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There's something unnerving, Asala thinks, about the way Wardens move. It's not unnatural exactly, but it's still off somehow, in a way that makes the base of their horns itch. It's too fast, too directed, too smooth. Even with the years of intense, punishing training they undergo, the best Crows could never hope to move like that.
Davrin draws back, muscles tensed. It's a move Asala knows. He's going to try to build momentum, knock Hissera off balance and turn the match to his advantage. But he's a warrior, and Hissera... well, she's a rogue. She was fast when she trained as a Fledgeling, and as a Warden, she's faster. She darts forward, pressing her advantage. Her training blade hits Davrin's chestplate with enough force to unbalance him. He's flat on his back before Asala even has time to process it.
Hissera grins, the light glinting against the blue crystal in her horns. "That round is mine," she says, offering a hand. Davrin takes it, and she pulls him to his feet as though he's weightless even in his armor.
Wardens, Asala thinks again, are unnerving.
"Another round?" Hissera asks.
"Absolutely," Davrin replies. As though nothing has happened. As though he hasn't been knocked flat on his back three times. "I'm going to take you down, Thorne."
"I'll believe it when I see it," Hissera says with a laugh. She twists her wrist, changing her grip on the faux rapier. "Let's go."
It's no wonder, Asala thinks as they watch the Warden pair continue sparring, as though it hasn't been hours. That the Crows no longer work in Ferelden.