Two burly longshoreman stood in the way of the Inquisitor. Others began to converge on the man. Street urchins began to strip the armors of the dead Templars, searching for coin pouches. A few handy men picked up the Templar's swords.
Lucious was wounded and exhausted, but his training was excellent. As he looked upon the villagers, his face has the expression of someone you'd only mess with if your other option was being slowly roasted over coals, and even then only on second thought.
"The first one to lay hands on me will find out how the inquisition can make a man survive a fortnight of uninterrupted torture.", he said, softly but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, "And you all know that taking a templars or a holy mans belongings leads to being cursed by the gods, don't you?", he added with a look towards those picking on the templars.
The peasants were frightened, confused, but not as willing to just submit as those in the south would have been. They didn't know just how many more templars and inquisitors the ship contained.
Their hesitation gave Lucious enough time to leave the scene. Tomorrow, he would put a hefty bounty on the head of the spellcaster who had wounded him. On the head only. He had no intention to have the villagers as enemies, the common people were usually afraid of magic and often good allies. He just had to make sure they knew their place. He would need a show of force in the morning, and a few friendly gestures.
And he would need prayers, in case the spellcaster attacked again.
