Christian slowed his pace and turned towards her, the briefest of worried smiles flickering on his face. “High Cleric.” He acknowledged. After a brief moment, he said his piece.
“I’m glad you decided to see a healer… I apologise for striking you as I did. The damage was not intentional you understand, but I have fought for some time, it is not easy to turn off that brutal need to slay an opponent before they slay you.” He looked slightly ashamed, for it was considered disrespectful to strike a woman in any respects, although this was somewhat lessened by her more than ample skill.
His left hand still clutched protectively at his damaged ribs, although the discomfort was hardly enough to encumber the seasoned warrior and he bore himself with more resilience then most men when injured in such a way. After a brief moment of silence, he shook his head resolutely. Finally he regained his composure, for walking in guilty silence the entire journey to the healer was less than desirable.
“High Cleric, have you heard the news circulating among every hall of the Chantry? That the undead in this corrupt land have begun to wage war?””