Taken aback by the chilly response he received for what he'd thought had seemed a perfectly polite and sincere address, Alderic hesitated in his reply, lips parted and brow drawing together faintly in an expression of mild, confused dismay. It did not surprise him that an apostate would be defiant and frightened under the circumstances, but to know that she believed he might actually consider executing her merely for her peaceful admission- what manner of monsters did she think Templars were, truly? Almost worse, when he looked down to the face of his fellow Warden he saw that same mistrust quietly hardening the young dwarf's expression. Rhocanth as ever chose his words carefully; Alderic understood now what his determined flattery of the elf and her strange companion had been aimed at this whole time. It shocked him, the sudden realization that he was so mistrusted, and to be honest it wounded his feelings. He'd only recently gotten to know Rhocanth, but he'd thought they were becoming friends. Apparently the other man had more serious reservations about Alderic's duties than he'd originally let on.
"I have no intention of harming you," he managed in reply to Aeolyn, obviously startled that she would think such, "but we need to discuss what must happen next. I do think it would be best if you accompany me to the chantry, as soon as possible." The edges of his eyes crinkled with concern. He remained oblivious to Israa's silent judgement, his back to the woman as he spoke.
"The men from the incident downstairs may come looking for you again. I wish to avoid a confrontation if it can be helped, miss Aeolyn," he pointed out sympathetically. He spread both palms skyward before him as he spoke, a gentle gesture of good faith; half surrendering, half inviting. "You have already taken the most difficult step simply by confessing your apostacy. Please, allow me to help you."