Free the imposter He can go - just as soon as he shares whatever secrets he wheedled from the rest of Orlais.
Result: The coin of the realm He gives up his secrets easily, desperate to win your mercy. A priestess' indiscretion. The hidden truth behind a merchant's success. The name of a noble family concealing their son's apostacy.
+1 Secret, +10 Freedom, -10 Dignity
2.
Imprison the imposter He can rot in the dungeon. A taste of Serault justice.
Result: A warm welcome
'Carver' begs for mercy. You have none. Your guards drag him down to the cells under the Tilted Tower, where the stone walls creak and the rats scurry. Let him try his tricks on them. Serault is spared his schemes, and the lords and ladies of her high houses praise your judgement.
+3 Authority, -10 Freedom, +10 Dignity, +10 Prosperity
Available if the Marquis greets Carver Hawke as a Templar:
1.
Grant him hospitality Who would know more about the chantry's recent troubles than a templar?
Result: Indiscretion Your servants bring smoked venison, steaming on long green beans and piled with sweet cranberries. Carver eats like a wolf. A rich wine loosens his tongue, and between gulps he tells you about the schism between the templars and the chantry. When he leaves the next morning he is tight-lipped, fidgeting with the reins of his horse. He knows he said more than he should.
+1 Secret, +10 Freedom, -10 Dignity
2.
Cast him out Now the Templars have abandoned the chantry, what authority do they have? Brutes with swords.
Result: Serault fears no-one. Not even Templars. You condemn Carver for the templars' renunciation of the chantry and banish him before your court. Your courtiers applaud. Templars are not loved, here. Many remember what the order did to your ancestor. He might have been abomination, but he was still Serault. He deserved better.
+3 Authority, +10 Dignity
Available if the Marquis greets Carver Hawke as a Warden:
1.
Welcome him The Maker knows his order receives little gratitude. "A Warden never brought good news," it's said.
Result: Unfamiliar luxury You dine on fat partridge, simmering in a pot with sweet onions and pale beans. Then a plate of round cakes, peppered with poppyseed and laced with honey. Your cook has baked Serault antlers into their crusts. Carver isn't used to such kindness. "Serault has always been a friend to the Wardens," he says, nursing his steaming cup of spiced wine. "Your ancestor," he touches his nose, rather than say the name, "did important work for us. Vital work." Interesting.
+3 Secrets, +10 Freedom, -10 Dignity
2.
Turn him away Wardens always want something. Recruits. Arms. A dangerous, sinister service they'll never explain.
Result: Troubles for another day The world is just emerging from the Fifth Blight. There won't be another for decades, perhaps centuries. "Come back then," you tell Carver. He bows, his face impassive. He's used to it. Your courtiers commend your judgement. Serault has her own problems. And with the Divine due, the last thing the realm needs is to be dragged into one of the Wardens' injurious follies.
+3 Authority, +10 Dignity
