faderift | [open] Te Vene or Not Te Vene

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[open] Te Vene or Not Te Vene

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: Learn how not to get immediately killed in Tevinter
WHEN: Justinian
WHERE: the Gallows library
NOTES: will update as needed

In the summer evenings, Benedict can be found holding court in the library, sitting at a table stacked with books and usually bearing a glass of wine or tea. Unless occupied by his pupils, he's often doodling listlessly on a sheet of parchment, quite a lot of them having amassed around him over the idle hours.

As advertised in his crystal announcement, he's here to teach the language and customs of the Tevinter Imperium, at least enough to make a successful tourist or, Maker forbid, prisoner.

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Hanzo gives Benedict the driest, weariest look he can possibly muster. It's one that he's familiar with - you don't grow up with a younger brother without some ire developing between the two of you. It's obvious that he's frustrated even as he slips inside to make sure that the other man doesn't suffer. It's part of the role he's decided to shoulder, even if he's clearly frustrated with it. It's what he expected, but at the same time...

"Then perhaps you ought to ask me the questions." It's not that Hanzo wants to set himself up as the defender of Tevinter youth - he doesn't care very much about most people enough to want to step in and his connection to his homeland is thin and barely there at best - but his promise is heavy on his tongue. "I might have better answers for you."

Edited 2018-06-29 00:00 (UTC)

Though Benedict wilts slightly at Hanzo's look, he's not used to receiving such treatment-- at least not from people whose opinion he cares about. He casts a vaguely wounded, incredulous look back, then diverts his gaze to Myr, still without saying anything. Let's see how this plays out.

"Gladly. I'd as lief come to you if I'd known you had them." Myr doesn't look at Benedict because, well, that's impossible, but there's certainly an impression he would if he could.

He lowers his voice for the actual question; this is obviously not something to be shared with the entirety of the library. "The brand your captors put on your templar escort. What is it?"

Then, after a breath, an additional piece of information: "I'm from Hasmal. My father was Tevene. I know these things aren't meaningless."

Not meaningless, nor harmless. He puts the thought of a branded corpse rotting in a warehouse on the docks firmly out of his mind.

Edited 2018-06-29 00:31 (UTC)

"I was on that trip. I would know as well as anyone." He's Tevinter as well, after all. But, no, Hanzo hadn't known anything about the marks until he had pressed Benedict and it was only careful promises and discussion that had allowed him to learn what he had wanted.

Glancing around the library, he hesitates for a brief moment before he breathes out a soft noise. There's a time for lying and a time for truth and, in this moment, he has to dance the middle of it carefully.

"I am from Tevinter. My parents are unimportant," a lie, a bold faced on, in the wake of the truth of the Shimada empire, but one he must tell all the same. "I know the nature of marks and brands as well as anyone. These are brands, but I am still investigating the truth of them."

He glances at Benedict, still a little sour, but he had made a vow.

"I am using my connections to investigate, but the process is slow. That is all I - we - know." All he is willing and able to tell.

At this point, Benedict's stillness is punctuated by shaking, his dark eyes shifting from Myr to Hanzo and back as they converse. His gaze toward Hanzo is grateful, if frightened; he's unimaginably relieved to have an ally at this time, even as something in the back of his mind niggles at how cruel it is to treat Myr this way. Myr, who saved his life, and has always been a listening ear.
Bene presses the heels of his hands over his eyes, drawing them down his face as silently as he can. If it weren't for the actual full-fledged terror he holds for the Templars, this might be easier.
But it's not.

Whether or not Hanzo meant the words as a rebuke, Myr hears them as one and feels a moment's guilt for it. "So you would," he admits, softly. "And I owe Benedict an apology for not seeking you out instead."

He can do no less than listen to Hanzo's explanation closely, given the lengths he's gone to already to get it; he doesn't interject through any of it, though his fingers tighten on his staff as the older man concludes his explanation. Something isn't right here--Myr can recognize that much, because none of this quite fits together. But--

There's a point past which you don't pry. Not when someone's that afraid of what you might turn up. He breathes out slowly, not quite a sigh, and smoothes his worried expression to one of studied neutrality. "Right. I imagine it must be. Will you tell me if you find anything significant?"

Truthfully, he expects a no--but he's got to ask. He's got to try.

"You know him better. It stands to reason that you would seek him over myself." It wasn't meant as a means to scold him. Hanzo knows why Benedict would be the first person to be asked - he was the one who wanted to return home. They were there as escorts; in Hanzo's case he knew very little about the nature of the mission. He only wanted to see Tevinter again one more time.

It's obvious that the other man isn't fond of the answer, but Hanzo isn't going to settle down and tell him the truth. While he hasn't outright lied he has kept some things back, to protect himself and to protect Benedict. If the truth comes out before Hanzo has done what he can to fix it... It will not end well for either of them.

"If I learn anything relevant I will inform you." It's not the same kind of promise he had made to Benedict, but it's something. He can control the information, then, rather than worry about it being taken out of his hands. "And I will make sure that Benedict does the same."

Benedict looks uncertainly at Hanzo when this claim is made, his mind roiling with questions akin to how exactly that isn't already an outright lie. But he holds his silence, knowing on some level that Myr is aware he's here, but also aware that to betray himself now would be admitting his cowardice. He'll just.... sit tight.

"If I learn anything relevant I will inform you."

That's the best Myr could hope for in this situation--better than a "no," but far from a promise of full disclosure. "Thank you," he says, softly. "I'll be glad to hear from either of you, in that case, and pray your inquiries get speedy answers."

There's really nothing else for him to do or say beyond that. He offers Hanzo's rough direction a polite nod and a quiet, "Maker walk with you," before making his retreat from the library.

"And with you." It seems like the polite response, even if Hanzo's views on the Maker aren't quite as simple as they might otherwise have been.

He waits until Myr is gone from earshot before he turns to Benedict, crossing his arms and giving him a level, measured look. He feels very much like an older brother for the first time in a decade and he's not entirely certain how to deal with the situation, other than to glare and glower and act as though he's twice as irritated as he actually is. It never really worked on Genji, but...

"Did you think he was simply going to walk away? He is blind, not foolish. He was waiting for you and would've waited until dinner, and how long do you think you could have held your breath?" Hanzo scoffs quietly. "You are putting yourself in a dangerous situation."

A long sigh of relief escapes Bene when Myr is finally out of earshot, and he slumps down slightly, apparently exhausted from the effort of having been 'hiding' for the duration of that conversation. Hanzo receives a smile, a bit too crafty to be innocently relieved, but a bit too open to be entirely manipulative.

"But he's gone," he replies, pointing out his obvious victory.

"Due to my intervention."

Hanzo walks over, settling to stand on the other side of the table, still looking stern and frustrated. He has no time for the smile, especially when he's the one getting himself deep into this situation. He had promised he would handle it, but it is beginning to appear as though there's more work to be done than he anticipated.

He breathes out, touching his hand to his forehead. He thinks he has a headache coming.

"We must decide a way to remedy this situation."

Sternness is wasted on Benedict, for the most part; in his lifetime, someone being stern means they're frustrated he outsmarted them, and seeing as most people are powerless to change anything he does, it hardly registers as something to be concerned about. Violence is another matter, but that's hardly the case here.

He leans back, folding his arms over his chest, still looking a little smug even if his smile has dwindled. "It seems remedied to me," he replies, "no one can demand further from you without suggesting you're a liar."

"Do you think they care much for my honour or trustworthiness?" Hanzo shakes his head. He's still a man from Tevinter, no matter what might happen or how he might prove himself. Prejudices will stand above anything else, especially if he is tangled up with a man who had been imprisoned by the Inquisition so far. If anyone investigated into him and learned more about his past... Hanzo is not sure what fratricide would earn him here.

He sighs, resisting the urge to sink into a chair.

"And what if they manage to discover the nature of the brands?" He shakes his head. "It's a matter I've been considering since you told me."

Ugh, now he's being all dramatic and old like he knows everything-- Bene sighs disapprovingly at Hanzo, thoughtfully pushing his hair back off his face.
Then he stops, realizing something.

"...they can't go to Minrathous."

"Clearly." Hanzo is not impressed by anything Benedict has done in the last twenty four hours and he is more than happy to go out of his way to make that clear. He turns his head away as he considers, thoughtful and almost pondering. There are some solutions that appear easy, but... How easy, he thinks. How simple. Too simple, surely.

"Removing their brands will not be easy, I imagine. Not if your mother was behind it." He can feel his nails digging into the skin of his palms, discomfort settling like an awkward weight on his stomach. "What of replacing them? Having them 'stolen' by someone of equal status? It would not be the first time a slave had been taken from another master, especially so far from home."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Bene hisses, suddenly sitting bolt upright in his chair, quite awake now. "Having them stolen, creating a feud between two houses in the magisterium, how would that be preferable to a few shit-for-brains Templars getting murdered?" Tell us how you really feel, Artemaeus. "--not that I-- want that." He settles back down, curling his fingers over his mouth in thought.
"You've never met my mother before recently, have you." Or he'd know that pissing her off is a one-way ticket to lying facedown in a gutter with all your assets liquidated and your spouse in her bed.

"Would you rather have them all killed as soon as they step foot in Tevinter? That is the course of action that lies ahead of you. Either we find a means of removing the brands, you tell them what has happened to them or we replace their brands with someone else."

It's clear, Hanzo thinks, who he means they ought to be replaced with. He might not be in the position to have any control in Tevinter, but here... It might be enough. It might cause an international incident, but it would mean that Benedict's mother would attack what remained of his family which... Would not necessarily be a problem for Hanzo. He's not entirely sure how to explain that to Benedict, but...

"They are important to the Inquisition so they should be important to you, no matter what brains they have. Let your mother begin a feud with the Shimadas. It would not cause me harm."

"Regardless of what is done with the brands," Bene says testily, pressing two fingers to his temple, "they will have to know what they are in order to convince them to get branded again." Maker, what a disaster.

"It would be wiser to contrive to keep them out of Tevinter entirely. Convince them they've no reason to go. Or there's something more pressing to deal with here."

"That is a short term solution for what is a long term problem. How do you intend to keep them out of Tevinter forever? How do you intend to keep them away from other people from our country?"

This is tiresome and frustrating and he's wondering why he got tied up in this in the first place. He can only blame Wren.

"How do you intend to suggest to a series of Templars that they should not go on a dangerous diplomatic with the entire Inquisition? They have every reason to go and nothing is as important as an alliance or truce with those people."

Edited 2018-07-02 21:22 (UTC)

Bene falls silent for a time, arms crossed, hunched in what appears to be a sulk as he mulls over the question. Think, damn you.

"They could..." he mumbles, "...be injured." Now you're thinking like an Artemaeus.

"How do you intend to injure them? If you do it yourself you could be imprisoned and punished. You would be questioned as to why you had done it when you had so recently been freed from your shackles. What reason do you have to turn on the Inquisition now?"

Hanzo sighs, drooping just a little. He's tired - old and tired and frustrated.

"If you can think of another solution - one that works - I would be glad to hear it. There is a risk to mine, true, but will your mother be willing to admit that she had enslaved members of the Inquisition? When we are on her soil, as guests? It would be more likely that the replacement family will be blamed and she will take advantage of the chance to remove a rival."

"Oh as if I'd be stupid enough to do it myself," Benedict hisses miserably, sinking lower in the chair. He chews the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed, dark eyes staring into the middle distance, concentrating.

"...I'll see what she thinks." Still very much in a pout, he cuts his eyes to Hanzo. "And the Templars, you think they'd go along with it?"

There's a comment to be made about the level of Benedict's stupidity, but he's sure it's not the best idea to say it aloud. Instead, he sighs something like relief, adjusting his weight before he nods his head. He's not sure he trusts Benedict's mother, but it's as good a thing as any.

"I think they would prefer to be under the control of someone who can free them than someone who would allow them to be murdered."

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