CLOSED: The whispering at the reckoning

[pinprick]

WHO: Teren, Alistair, and Nathaniel
WHAT: Discussing how much to tell the Inquisition about some Wardeny secrets.
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Camp Shady
NOTES: Following the general poll to the Wardens about whether to tell the Inquisition about the Architect, the three seniormost Wardens discuss the results.

Nathaniel got hold of a home brew he's pouring into a mug. It's dark and smooth and not too bitter, and he passes it around for them all to sip from as they gather by a fire in the camp. When it comes back to him the first time, he pauses pensively.

"I was in favor of the alliance with the Architect when it was made," he admits quietly. "I thought if there was a chance to end the Blights for good before any more came to pass, we should take it. Lately we've seen where that sort of thinking leads."

He takes a drink and passes the mug.

Comments

[byblow]

"Don't worry, Howe. We all make mistakes," Alistair says with airy, facetious superiority while he lifts the mug to his mouth. Like he's never made a questionable choice in his life. Like his son isn't a vessel for Urthemiel's soul.

[doneisdone]

Before Alistair can take a drink, Teren snatches the mug from his mouth and puts it to her own. She's ailing, she needs it more.
She at least put her hair up for the occasion, but still looks like she got trampled by fifteen dragons, and feels it too. Fortunately, she's feeling good-natured today. Something about being outside, even if she's in a robe instead of proper clothing.

"And that was how long ago?" she asks, "where is he now, and can you be sure he'll remain beholden to the alliance?" She passes the mug back to Nathaniel.

[pinprick]

"Alliances are never based on certainty, or they would never be made." Nathaniel takes a drink from the mug. "They're based on shared ideology. Or necessity, sometimes. Both drove this one. But that was eleven years ago, and he's gone to ground. None of us have any idea where he is."

He passes the mug to Alistair.

[byblow]

Alistair takes the mug and holds it poised in the air, looking sideways at Teren with one eyebrow arched--a position that suggests willingness, but not particular eagerness, to pass it along to her if she insists.

"I'd say he could be dead," he says in the meantime, "but we've seen how bad his kind are at staying that way. But it doesn't really matter right now whether he's on our side or not, does it? If he could help against Corypheus, we need to look for him. If he's teamed up with him, we need to look for him twice as fast. We could spend all night guessing what he's up to, I suppose, but one of you will have to volunteer to be my pillow and the other one has to hold my feet."

[doneisdone]

Teren welcomes herself to the mug held aloft, takes a small drink from it, then passes it along.
"Sounds to me as though his opinions are irrelevant," she points out, "unless we are able to get them from him personally. Why not seek him out? Do we even have any leads? Even the slightest inkling of where he might be?"

[pinprick]

"Jonas would, if anyone," Nathaniel drinks. "Maker only knows what has happened to him. I'll write Fergus and see if he has any news, and ask him to write the queen if he hasn't. With the Inquisition behind us, the queen might respond more quickly. Other than that, we might keep an ear to the ground. Start looking for rumors of unusual darkspawn. For that, we would need the Inquisition's resources. They're the only ones who have agents in enough places to look for such things."

He takes another swallow and passes the mug directly to Teren, since Alistair doesn't seem to want it.

[byblow]

At mention of the Couslands, Alistair's face predictably darkens--and there's a moment when he cracks his mouth open, in preparation to offer to reach out to Eamon Guerrin, but then shuts it without saying anything. He hasn't exchanged words with the man in years.

"While you're at it," he says instead, after a pause, "you could ask him to see if Queen Anora would accept any Wardens back in Amaranthine. I know we're something of a risk now--more of a risk--but if there's trouble with the darkspawn, we don't have anyone in Ferelden at all. We could move a handful from Valeska's Watch, if she'd have them. Promise to only send the well-behaved ones."

[doneisdone]

"Do those exist?" Teren quips, accepting the mug again, taking a drink, and then, since they've almost depleted it, passes it back to Nathaniel to finish. It's just good manners.
"It's true," she concedes after a moment, becoming serious again, "if anyone's going to find a great bloody talking darkspawn, it's going to be a Warden. Or someone either very observant or very unlucky." She settles back with a wince. "Ought we run off like a pack of bloodhounds, then? Scour Thedas for any sign of the blighter?"

[pinprick]

"That would be the most direct approach, yes." Nathaniel drains the mug and sets it aside. "Then if it's decided, I will write to the Inquisition's leaders about the Architect. Something they can pour over on their own time, while we lay out our plan. When they are ready, we can let them in on the discussion, and our efforts to find him."