[[ Sorry for taking so long! Also, I spent...forever trying to figure out how to reply, LOL]
It was amazing to Simon how quickly things had gotten out of hand. He doubted the Chantry had thought things would be this bad, or they wouldn't have sent him. Or perhaps they still would have. He was, after all, one of the few Templars in Denerim who...well, didn't act much like a Templar. It was easier for him to slip into the mindset of a commoner than some of the others, who had been so dedicated to their faith. Simon remembered his life before the Chantry had taken over. He remembered living on the streets, remembered the cruelty of the people. Cruelty that was on grand display amongst the slavers. And was able to quell his reactions, to blend in with them.
Their treatment of the slaves was, while not surprising, completely disgusting. They were elves, but they were still living beings. Beings with identities and feelings and families. And yet here they were...stolen from their homes and beaten by one of their own. The head slaver was an elf (a fact that surprised Simon enough on its own; weren't elves supposed to look after their own people?), a cruel man named Keraer. Too many times had Simon seen the man go after the slaves with a sadistic sort of glee, drawing pleasure from their cries of pain and laughing at their cries for help. It twisted Simon's heart into knots, and he was tempted to go in and help them. But his goal was a greater one. It would do little good for him to break cover just to save one or two slaves. For one thing, they'd be lucky to get out of the countryside alive. And the plans to export the rest of the slaves would be expedited, and they would be lost forever. Simon didn't think he could live with that. So he waited, patiently, playing the role of the dedicated guard. Dedicated to his post, if not a little disinterested in the 'wares' themselves.
So he stood, stoic but alert, in the position he had been assigned. He spoke very little to anyone, but maintained the appearance that he could mess them up if they decided to give him trouble. And he could. This he knew. So far, things seemed to be working according to plan, with the slavers begrudgingly accepting him as one of their own. He was viewed with suspicion, this he knew, but not enough to give him trouble. The only trouble he faced was the knowledge that he was running out of time. Pieces were falling together for the slavers faster than anticipated, and soon the elves would be on their way to...Maker knows where. He was going to have to figure something out, and quickly. For now, he stood his ground. Even as he saw Keraer approaching.
At the man's words, he gave a curt nod, narrowing his eyes he let himself into the room with the man and the young girl. Simon let out a breath, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening almost painfully. He wanted to help them. He wanted nothing more than to go in and put a permanent end to Keraer's abuse. But he kept the endgame in mind (even if he didn't know quite what it was going to be), choosing instead to do just as he was told, take a walk. He made a few rounds around the small building again, earning a glare from another guard. No one chose to say anything, however, thanks to the pointed glare he shot back at them. Almost as though he was daring them to accuse him of anything. After some time, he returned to his post, waiting for the slaver to exit.