Magister. That's one of the titles he remembers Dorian mentioning. The mention of being a slave and the pain combined with the elf not actually being a templar settles the Archivist marginally. "I'm sorry. I... they sold me as a slave when the city changed, but my master was... he was just trying to rescue me from anyone else. He was kind. He's my contract partner now, I mean. I- technically... I'm the master, but it- I'm not really... Well. He whines when he has to run his own bath or make his own coffee. It's easier to just... take care of that.

"There are good people here. Regardless of the mark on their throats. And there are awful people, too. I'm sorry you'll have to deal with them because of that mark." Jon rubs a hand over his face. "Is there anything that helps with the pain? I could help you get it?"