The knight's face brightened, only a little, and he dipped his head again in a nod more reserved than his smile.
A spark of boldness, quickly stifled, almost led him to say that at least this time the slavers were not in the employ of the throne. No, no matter how much he may respect Lord Piers, and no matter what slight jabs made on the part of the other, he could not let himself join in. He was only a knight, and even a noble could find themselves in a predicament if he allowed his tongue too much free reign.
"Very much so, ser," answered Ordhan gravely. He paused, wavering between expressing loathing for the Tevinter or frustration with those charged with guarding Denerim's people--but the last was a thing he was as guilty of as anyone, or had been, rather, and the first did not seem fitting. "I deeply regret it was not found out sooner," he concluded.
This was a thing easier to speak of than matters concerning himself; selfish of him, perhaps, that injustices against Ferelden's people would be a thing more comfortable to think of than his own petty insecurities, but he could not help himself.