The Grey Guardian sailed from cold and cruel Ferelden to Antiva, "Where it's warm, it rains and flowers bloom," and the owner of that phrase was already waiting at the port.

Mi amor, the Antivan Ravens welcome you to warm and colorful Antiva!

Zevran's voice oozes joy, and a certain mirth with contrived importance. He bows elegantly and leaves a soft kiss on the outside of the palm given to him to help him down the ship's ramp.

The two of them made their way deep into the port city, stopping at the shops for the latest Antivan fashions, souvenirs, and clothing to familiarize themselves with the culture of their beloved country of Arannaia. As the Guardian picked out her trinkets, Zevran stood back and whispered with various people who didn't really stand out. But it's Zevran... When you noticed his suspicious behavior, you decided to drill him with a piercing stare, waiting for an explanation.

Don't worry, mi querida. The whole of Antiva is at your beautiful feet today...Speaking of feet! You must be tired after such a long trip, let me pleasure you and invite you to dinner? I know where they serve the most exquisite wines and lemon tarts.

Zevran was trying not to show it and behave as usual, but something was wrong and you could sense it, for you knew him too well. He was afraid that you would realize that your date tonight was a farce and that he was actually preparing for the assassination of a high-ranking Antivan merchant he had received an order for this morning.