It had been sometime since he had been to the cit. His blue eyes and countenance looked drained, and his youthful face seemed to age, even though it had only been a few years since he had entered into the city. Being up North when the mages were rebelling, and nearly dieing on several accounts, left him vulnerable and ashamed. For he was one who loathed the mage population, and took upon the calling towards the church and see that the will of Ansgar was upheld.
But through his journeys,
Kentamin Dhelsbar wasn't sure how he felt now. He felt torn between his realizations that mages were, in fact, people too, and also the underwritten fear tickling in his veins towards them.
He needed to return to the church, needed to resupply, and needed to refocus on his religion and purpose. He wasn't paying too much attention, his mind on the battles up North. He was still a good few blocks away from the New Church of Ansgar when he rounded a bend and bumped, quite literally into another.
Taken aback, Kentamin bowed his head humbly.
"Forgive me, I wasn't watching where I was going," he muttered, a weariness to his voice, and to his disposition.