Don't you have classes yourself?

Realising this, you quickly head out into the corridor. Truth be told, you spent so much time yesterday fucking, that you're not entirely sure about your curriculum.

You wander the halls for a few minutes, debating to yourself on who to ask for help. Surely Vivienne would be busy, and even if she weren't, asking something that should be such common knowledge might dampen her positive first impression of you.

Luckily for you, someone approaches you. Unluckily, it's Ser Olivia.

The blond-haired Templar had earned quite a bit of infamy throughout the Circle. She was originally from Ferelden, the firstborn daughter of an Arl from suchandsuch a place. Growing up wild, spoiled and entitled, Olivia's luck ran out when her father decided to have her pressed into the Order's service, rather than inherit her when she came of age.

She had been transferred from Circle to Circle, first Calenhad, then Kirkwall, and a few of the other less reputable Circles, before she ended up at Montsimmard. Rumours and reports of her inappropriate behaviour towards mages had dogged her career. Of course, it now made sense why she had never been transferred away from Montsimmard, no matter how many nervous apprentices she cornered and had her way with.

"So, you've finally made it to the grown-up table." Olivia said, pinning you to the wall with one silverite-covered arm. For whatever reason, unlike most of the Templars up here, Ser Olivia was currently wearing full plate.

"Don't know why it took me so long to find out." She added, reaching down to stroke your cock. "You shoulda come looking for me."

While she was far from unattractive, you had always been a little wary of the knight. You remembered a couple of years ago, when Knight-Captain Janice had caught her sucking off one of your friends. The crazy bitch had had the gall to accuse him of using blood magic on her!

"Shouldn't you be in class, though?" Olivia asked, her blue eyes boring into you. "I looked for you in class. We don't have a runaway on our hands, do we?"

"N-no!" You stammer out as Olivia continues to carefully stroke your cock.

"What fun that'd be." Olivia whispers in your ear. "Hunting you across Orlais, catching you, claiming my prize and taking you back where you belong on the arse of my horse. My mummy used to let me do it with some of the knife-ears from the kitchen, you know."

"Er, is there a reason you were looking for me? Or that you're telling me this?" You laugh nervously.