faderift | closed | we could do revenge, revenge, revenge, revenge

Entry tags:

closed | we could do revenge, revenge, revenge, revenge

WHO: Anders, Byerly, Colin, Lexie
WHAT: Planning the downfall of one trash-heap Templar
WHEN: Nowish (before we all start spouting the opposite of nonsense and Anders leaves to be tragically murdered rifp)
WHERE: The balcony of the apartments, where all the best vengeance plotting happens
NOTES: cw: probable discussion of sexual assault, suicide attempt may come up, maybe some links later?

The weather is not fine, on the whole, but it is fine for this manner of gathering: the sound of light rain, the droplets themselves hardly visible in the light haze of mist that is the remnant of the ambitious heavy fog that covers the city below that has made it all the way up to Hightown, and mild enough to sit out on the covered balcony of Alexandrie and Colin's apartments. It is mid-afternoon, but even so, candles had been set out along with luncheon to combat the particular shade of dour grey seemingly unique to Kirkwall. Alexandrie's staff sets a fine table, even in the relative informality of the balcony setting, and while the purpose of the gathering is hardly the meal, Alexandrie primly insists on conversation about lighter matters until the last plate has been cleared and replaced by a cut-crystal decanter of brandy set out on a tray with four small matching glasses.

"So. The matter of Balfour," she begins, taking up the decanter and raising it slightly along with her eyebrows—anyone? The man is denied both given name and title; not a small mark of disrespect from the mouth of the ever-solicitous Alexandrie. "I assume we are all in agreement that he is well deserving of what recompense we can deliver."

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Colin ate little, while trying to distract himself with the conversation. As Lexie brings up the subject at hand, he quickly offers his glass to be filled. Once a finger or two of brandy have gone in, he tosses it back before holding the glass out to be refilled. His mother used to insist that all Antivans have a strong tolerance for brandy surpassing their tolerances for other types of alcohol. He's going to test that tonight.

"What do you need to know about him?" he asks with greater composure than he feels.

He nods to Lexie. The gathering... he has mixed feelings on who Colin has chosen, especially after Byerly's latest on the crystals, but it's Colin's choice so Anders is doing his best to e neutral and reserved and helpful.

"I only remember him vaguely. He wasn't one of my harassers. Does he have fondness for any foods or drinks in particular that could be laced with something to make this easier?" He'd prefer outright murdery things, but if they have to shame him, sleeping draughts might suffice. But really, why is Byerly here if he doesn't care about how mages are oppressed?

Byerly, for his part, offers nothing save a small, opaque smile. He says nothing, asks no question to prompt Colin along; he simply holds out his glass to be filled, and takes it, and does not drink.

Alexandrie, who fills it, looks briefly over at Anders—infamous for cutting straight through the dance and literally setting the whole thing ablaze. "You ask for important information for a surety, but I think there are touches that must come first if this is to be smooth and complete." She returns the level clarity of her gaze to Byerly. Silence will not do here.

"He is one of yours, mon cher," she says to his languid opacity. Noble. Fereldan. Perhaps a piece in a greater game his crown plays. He is here because of Colin, because he knows what has been done, and he is here because she will neither play his board nor allow another to flick at its pieces without his knowledge inasmuch as she can prevent such a thing. Such is the friendship she can give that he may accept.

"If he were of Orlesian nobility I should know the dance best, but this is your floor." She looks away then, lowering her eyes slightly to pour her own glass and set the decanter down in its place with a quiet tick. "He is a brute and a coward, and has the oily cleverness of one such, and the protection of his name and rank. Know you the colour of the rest of the Balfour family?"

He barely stirs for a moment. Then he takes a breath, and says -

"I am acquainted." A moment; he rubs his thumb around the outside of the glass and says, "The father is a familiar type. I'm sure we all know the sort. Cruel to his children, crueler to others. He once informed me that I was the shame of my family - the shame, singular, as if we haven't many shames. But it speaks to the sort of fellow that is, that he'd say that to a man he hasn't seen in some thirty years. Without prompting."

By smiles slightly upwards. Then, shrugging -

"The older brother's all right." A breath. "The father will protect the son. Not from loyalty, not from love, but from a sort of jealousy. A desire to have the family be something it is not. Honorable, respectable, honored and respected. You understand."

A dull glint comes to Colin's eyes, like some deep hurt coming to the surface.

"Because of how it reflects on him. Lutair's the same. Everyone he touches is a reflection of him. Doing anything except reflecting him is an insult. Though obviously if you're too much like him, you're a threat. He's got to have someone to lord it over."

So I reflected his cruelty by becoming his victim. He moved and I flinched, he smiled and I cowered, and he saw himself in every angle of my fear of him. Now, he gets to see himself in my revenge. One last, longing look into the mirror.

"Is this too great a compliment to pay him?" he asks quietly. "If the last thing he sees is me, reminding him how important he is."

Edited 2019-05-17 05:42 (UTC)

Sometimes the only good response really is setting things ablaze. This family has shaped and protected a predator. Anders is entirely ready to prune the whole lot of them off the tree of Thedas... but there will be politics involved and he'll let the other two say their piece there.

Colin's comment, though, is entirely up his alley.

"Fuck him and what it might or might not do for him. He doesn't matter. He's dead." One way or another. "What matters is what you need. Do you need to be there, or do you need to be elsewhere? And taking him out isn't becoming him. You'd be becoming him if you tormented him, and that's not the plan as far as I understand."

Byerly speaks in a wry murmur. "An unsurprising sentiment, considering its source."

But he doesn't linger on that; this is not the correct time to begin rehashing who started which wars and all of that. Instead, he smooths down his moustache and says, "We cannot merely think of the personal consequences of delicious revenge. I remind you that the Bann is a Bann. He is not particularly beloved, but he is a Bann. An attack - say, drugging or poison, or perhaps causing a magical explosion in someone's ancestral home - " All right, one brief jab, but that's the last one - "Would be an affront that Ferelden could not ignore. At best, the consequences would fall upon us alone; at worst, it would fall upon...whatever this group is calling itself now."

It's a slip, admitting which of those two outcomes would be the worse one. Ah, well.

If it is a slip, it's not one Alexandrie seems to mind. She's nodding along. Greatly desired as it might be, Lutair's demise—whether social or otherwise—is a side project that takes both time and resources when both are becoming scarce. That is harm enough to their fight, any more becomes a problem. She turns again to Anders.

"Whatever one thinks of the nobility, of the Templar, they are still the nobility and the Templar. It is a structure of power, and baldly disturbing its web in any structural way will have consequences we do not wish to incur,” her tone is so carefully mild that it strays into the barest reproof. “Snipping a few strands, however...” a shrug and a small smile.

"Moreover," to Colin now, more gently, her hand straying to lightly touch his, "I might suggest that we have here an opportunity not just for vengeance, but perhaps something larger. Kill one man for his unrecognized, unpersecuted crime, and he dies." She shrugs. Good. She wouldn't be sorry in the slightest, but— "If instead we arrange it such that his father would make a glad sacrifice of him to hold the family separate from such deeds to seek after that honor and respect he so enviously covets...” It is said levelly, for all that Alexandrie's lips thin to press so near to Byerly's old wounds.

“If Lord Balfour seizes upon the opportunity loudly enough, to reach as many ears as he may and gain the most benefit by it, the Chantry may be forced to to publicly glance on the affronts of his son and consequently the affronts of others like him," for there are others, of that she has no doubt, "and on the inhumanity of what they have allowed, lest the public look upon its soldiers in a time of war, when they are in need of succor from the countryside, as savage manipulators who will simply take what they are not given...” Well.

“Perhaps the hand of the Chantry then should fall on more than he, to give proof of its justness.”

Colin stares at her for some time, then slowly shakes his head.

"No," he says flatly. "That would be a trial, and I wouldn't get justice, I'd get covered up. By both the Bann and the Chantry, with their reputations to protect. Nobody cares about mages. Least of all when I was born poor and my entire family is dead. No wealth, no connections, no scandal. I think if there was a scandal, it would have to be unrelated and we would have to reveal it to his political allies and enemies first. But I'm not a scandal. I don't think I'm even a crime. I might be a minor embarrassment, but that's all."

And Byerly lets out a soft breath - the slightest acknowledgment of his old shame. But immediately afterwards, he makes a quelling gesture, hand palm-down, for Alexandrie's eyes. This is not a time to indulge himself; it is a time to indulge others.

So he says to Colin, "My dear boy, you have recruited two of Thedas' foremost experts in turning minor embarrassments into major scandals. What did you bring us into this for, if not that?"

"You may both know politics, but you do not know them as they apply to mages. The only time one does care about what's happening with mages is, of course, in the case of the aforementioned explosion."

His expression and voice are flat. This isn't a place to rise to clear bait, but to address it and remove it from the conversation and move on. And maybe allude to something a bit more recent.

"I understand you've little care for our oppression, Rutyer, but what Colin is saying is part and parcel of it. Templar abuses against mages are not going to surprise anyone or damage anyone. Trust me; every official channel possible was tried in Kirkwall when mages were being murdered and worse literally daily for a wrong glance or saying no, and no one cared. If you want to make this into something larger, you'll have to find victims that aren't mages and cowardly bullies like this particular Templar is not going to try his tricks on anyone who can fight back without threat of instant execution. You'll have to make something up."

He's not here for his political astuteness, something he was aware of when he showed up but has been made even more blatant in these last few moments. He's here because he knows the mage angle through and through, and knows what official responses are. They don't care.

"That may have been so, but circumstances have changed. The Circles are broken," an inclination of her head to the eminent cause, "Their loosed mages pull some political weight," enough to have gotten the phylacteries they had, a few other concessions, "and the Chantry has only just raised a new—and young—Divine in the shadow of the memory of a quite popular and more liberal Grand Cleric whose supporters, and those of Grand Cleric Elise, the Sunburst Throne may wish to make some visible effort to placate in order to stave off quarreling within the Grand Cathedral in these early days.

"And quickly. The eyes of the Chantry have turned North and wish to stay there, and they will wish to dispense with any distractions. That haste would aid us as well. As will the March itself." Here, Alexandrie finally drinks. "A Chantry at Holy War must be at its Holiest. Impurity within, amplified enough, the story told well enough, would damage that. There may be yet more at play, somewhat with the family, some other threads that can be drawn in." She rotates her glass slightly in the candlelight and then looks at the mages of their little conspiracy. "Think you these things enough of an opportunity to counterbalance apathy?"

Edited 2019-05-17 22:03 (UTC)

Colin feels ill. One thumbnail travels along the creases in the woodgrain of the tabletop, the hand shaking as it does so.

"If other Templars testified against him, maybe. But the Chantry would most likely just postpone the whole affair unless there was a reason to make an example of him, and quickly. Desertion. Shit like that. But it's all a lot more likely to make me a target than him. In the end, it's my word against his, and he'll make sure that either no one believes me, or I'm not able to get the word out at all. Meanwhile, I'll have declared everything that happened to everyone I know, and like it or not, it's my shame, not his. All anyone will hear on his part is how laid he got in the Circle."

By lifts the brandy as Colin speaks and wets his lips with it. No more than that. When the boy is done, he lowers the glass and asks quite simply -

"What is the source of all these refusals?" A tilt of his head to the side. "Are you afraid?"

"First is precedence." Anders takes his first sip of the brandy, knowing the second will be the hard one. "Multiple ages of mages being abused in this way and others with no actual punishment. In the eyes of those with power we are not people. We are curses and sins."

Not even just the eyes of people with power, too. But this isn't about rousing a group. It's about being informative for two people who have not had any experiences with this.

"That answers you as well, believe, Alexandrie. It's not a scandal if you killed a sin because likely it was deserved. It's not a scandal if you raped a curse because that's not a person. But secondly..."

He swallows and briefly contemplates another sip of wine before moving on instead. "When you've been seriously injured, there's permanent scars and changes. You don't want to go and drop your guard on the field and invite people to make the damage worse. Speaking of what one has been through and having people weigh that, try to decide if you deserved it, forcing you to relive it over and over is similar enough to getting your ribs crushed yet again after your breathing has finally gotten tolerable."

Hopefully that can explain it enough to people who have probably never been abused.

"There is fear, but there's no shame in that fear. There's vitally important self-preservation to that."

Edited (Sorry! Phone tagging is hard. ) 2019-05-18 14:05 (UTC)

Alexandrie hardens to marble as Anders speaks, her chin raising and posture straightening even farther.

"Then we shall frame it in the way all people understand and respond to: the having of absolute power, the ready willingness to abuse it, and the most powerful entity in the world allowing this without care," she replies, her enunciation clipped. "And you may speak to this room again of private humiliation made public and the consequences thereof when you have made even the slightest attempt to do more than make assumptions of its occupants." Hypocritical, perhaps, as she's done little enough to inquire after Anders' history—what of it isn't splattered across the public sphere, but Alexandrie's anger has never been alloyed by the inconvenience of equity.

"But if you truly do not wish for it to be about you," she says, turning to Colin and softening slightly for him, "I have one remaining thought that should allow for a larger consequence." Pause for effect. To the room, and to Byerly in particular with a look that makes it question rather than statement:

"The assassination of Grand Cleric Agathe has yet to be solved."

"He's just making a point, Lexie," Colin says, not looking up from where his thumbnail is worrying the woodgrain. After some time, he takes a deep breath, in and out. Something changes just as he is about to speak. The dullness in his eyes sharpens. The line of his jaw sets.

"I'm fucking terrified," he says to Byerly at last, clasping his hands before him. "And I don't have the faith in the system you do. Last time I dealt with Lutair, I was almost made Tranquil. But I wasn't. I wasn't murdered, either. And all I can think is, if I tempt fate, I chance at least the latter. Anything could happen. But I don't think it will."

He thinks in silence again. Alexandrie's audacious idea about Grand Cleric Agathe causes a twitch in the corner of his mouth. But he needs to reconsider the first option. He needs to hear it out, at least.

"Byerly," he sighs, "how would you make people care about what he did? How would you bring him to justice through a system that doesn't work for people like me?"

His anger at Anders' words nearly, for one moment, makes Byerly lose his temper. A blessing on Lexie; her recrimination of the mage lets him keep his cool. Maker forbid he be provoked enough to share his tales of, say, Richars in this company. Maker forbid that Lexie be forced to utter the name Rolant. But her anger gives him enough safety that all he feels the need to do is smile very sweetly at Anders, and say, "My dear Lexie, there's no need to recriminate an ignorant man. He recriminates himself every time he opens his mouth."

Then, turning to Colin - Byerly truly does swallow his anger, focusing instead on the boy before him. He lifts his eyebrows, and lets out a breath, and says, "Please, dear heart, don't ever accuse me of having faith in the system. Only a child would. What I do have faith in is our...peculiarly Fereldan way of doing things. We operate on favors. And I happen to have a favor or two to call in."

Though - he does touch his chin thoughtful. "I must say, though, Lexie, I am most intrigued by that point you brought up. It would cause no true change, but it would be delicious."

"Maker's breath." He's kept his cool, he's been as detached as possible despite the fact that they've been talking about things that have happened to so many he's lost along the way, and apparently he's come in with them already entirely decided that his input is worse than worthless.

"You both asked questions and I answered them. I'm not ignorant of trauma and I explained what was there beyond fear because you asked about fear. I'm not ignorant about being treated as less than a person by everyone in authority, so I answered the questions asked. There were no assumptions in anything I said or, for that matter, how I said it because I know quite well how to deliver news and answers without judgement. I'm the go-to person for treating the sexual infections, for the Maker's sake."

Clinical is something he can do. It's not easy when he's talking about what he's passionate about, but he's managed it and these two are snapping at him. It's beyond frustrating when he's here to help the closest thing he has to family in the Free Marches.

"Now can I ask how such a framing might even begin, and can you answer without treating me like I'm beneath you, or is that asking too much? I've been polite and patient and not had an outburst at comments about the chantry or my sentiments being unsurprising as if you know me. Which you don't. So stop assuming I'm assuming and focus on the matter at hand."

Colin doesn’t precisely smile, but there is a peculiarly pleasant look on his face when he speaks.

“If the four of you can’t work together and be polite with each other, I am going to ask you all to leave and we won’t do this at all.”

A serene threat, slightly undercut by the fact that he meant the three of you and not the four of you. As sometimes happens in conversation, he counted the number of people present instead of the number of people he is talking to.

From the too-exacting smile, the minute flare of her nostrils, and the subtle tightening of her gloved fingers on the glass, anyone well versed in reading body language will know immediately that whatever Alexandrie was in the process of opening her mouth to say was not going to be something oriented toward polite teamwork. But Colin's interjection slicks her ruffled feathers back down, and she redirects the part of her lips to a small sip of brandy instead.

"A jaunt to politesse, then," she murmurs afterwards with the smooth regulated tone she employs with strangers; Alexandrie the woman has changed places with Alexandrie the courtier. "If you would elucidate on the potential use of your 'favors' before we consider the riskier and far more public proposition of framing an abusive Templar and those who aided and abetted him for high treason against the Chantry, Byerly?"

Byerly's smile towards Anders is perfectly pleasant. "To your utter lack of explosive outbursts," he replies, his glass lifted towards the man. But that's as insulting as he gets, in deference to Colin; instead, he nods to Lexie and answers her matter-of-factly.

"Nothing particularly rousing, I fear, my dear," he says. "I would that I could present you with some truly exciting prospect. Instead, it's simply dull politics as usual." He leans back, throwing an elbow over the back of the chair behind him. "Balfour's neighbor - Bann Uthor of Dyer's Valley - has a rather vested interest in seeing the Bann's interests disrupted. A healthy dose of familial unrest would take Balfour's attention elsewhere, leaving Uthor with free rein to poach some of the freemen at the edges of Farland."

A rolling shrug. "Uthor to bring the charges and to press the case. Uthor is liked and respected; Kenneth is not. Others would go along with it for potential gain, or for spite. And then - perhaps a small intervention to ensure that dearest Kenneth understands that the protection of his son would cause...consequences." By way of a circumspect explanation - "I've a few choice bits on his personal history in my little bag of tricks."

He does not quite look at Colin, and he does not quite look at either of the others. Instead, his gaze is on the far wall. If he returns the jab he's out, and isn't that quite the story of his life.

"We still need charges that a court will see. Particularly when the new Divine has shown support for mages to be reduced back to the lack of rights we had before." His voice is wooden. "Colin's is not a case that would have any traction."

"It's considered an acceptable evil, in the name of containing mages to protect innocents. Since mages are, by definition, presumed guilty of something so they don't count as innocents."

Colin glances away thoughtfully. "I was...seventeen? No, sixteen. And Kinloch Hold was considered one of the best-behaved Circles. Trying to put this under the authority of the crown would be tricky at best. The Chantry won't like it."

"This shall likely not be about making or convincing anyone to recognize truth or to support mages or to care for the abuse of them," Alexandrie replies after a moment with what gentleness she can muster. "It shall be about creating circumstances such that the Chantry, or the nobility, or the Crown, believe it is in their own best interest to sacrifice him. To give them something tangible to gain by it that outweighs any loss.

"Perhaps no-one would see your case on its own merit. As you say, justice does not work that way for mages, and they are not alone in that. No-one cares if the son of a Duke rapes a servant-girl. No-one cares if he kills her in the process. Unless you give them reason; threaten them with loss, or reward them with gain. The latter is better.

"The gain in the end, for you and those like you, is that those who are not privy to those dealings will, perhaps, begin to believe the Chantry does care. And that is, thread by thread, how you weave new truths."

"And honestly, dear boy, why do you think the Chantry would want to hold onto this incident? This is a point of humiliation for them. If they punish the templar, it raises hackles. If they fail to punish the templar, it raises hackles. If I were the Divine, I would be begging Queen Anora to take the mess off my hands."

He gives a languid shrug. "To kill a man is a simple thing. Death and destruction is the easiest path." A slight lift of his glass - not directly at Anders, in a show of remarkable restraint. "If all else fails, you can murder him later."

"So they care because we're paying them. With favors."

This is a lot more believable than Colin expected. He glances over at Anders, a gleam of hope in his eyes, before looking back at the other two.

"But they still can't prosecute what isn't illegal in the first place. Though I'm...not actually sure whether it's legal or not. It wasn't exactly part of our education."

"Death and destruction is the last path when the paths that are supposed to function do not." His gaze is even as he meets Byerly's. Colin's not going to call out any of the repeated jabs, apparently, but Anders doesn't dare actually jab back.

"Technically, it may be illegal. Rape is not legal. Where it gets blurry is if we are, by legal definition, people. We've some sort of inheritance rights now it seems," which is entirely worthless for a vast majority of them, "which isn't retroactive, but the personhood line may be complicated enough that it's humiliation. Though this leads to a whole other question: what do we offer the initial contacts to make them want to look into this rather than try to simply silence it?"

"Legal, illegal - what does it matter?" By shrugs with a single shoulder. "The sky is periodically on fire, one Divine has used the corpse of another candidate to step onto the Sunburst Throne, half-capes are fashionable again. All is chaos. And in times of chaos, precedent matters for shit. What matters is the question of - can you take that chaos and shape it to your will."

He flutters his fingers at Anders. "Well, that and who owes you a favor. Not even a flaming sky negates the power of an owed favor. And it just so happens that I am owed." A slight bow at Lexie - "And I suspect I'm not the only one who is."

Alexandrie tilts her palm upwards—of course, but—"Mine are less useful within Ferelden," she replies. "Two degrees of separation rather than direct. A favor owed by one whom I know to be owed quite dearly. I do not know how much can be wrung from it. Lucien is a snake, and grown bold in my absence by all accounts. I shall have to pick him up by the neck and shake him. It might be better if—" she cuts herself off with a brief glance skyward and flicks her fingers dismissively. What is the point of tracing the web of it all now? A glance and tilt of her head for Byerly: later.

"It matters little. Byerly and I are in agreement; the legal merit is almost entirely immaterial." Her eyes slide to Anders. They contain only detached courtesy now, and the tone of her voice matches it exactly. "Having never had access to the halls of power due to the place mages hold in the South, it is perfectly understandable that you believe the only options to be either trying to convince the emplaced system of justice that you should have rights as any other citizen of your class or the violent overthrow of that system." No judgement, there, only a statement of fact. "The Chantry views mages as you say. Justice works for mages as you say. And so, for you, those are the only options. For us," she indicates Byerly, "there are more, and for this purpose they have been placed at your disposal.

"What it will require is that the two of you are willing to trust that we know how to feel, draw out, and work the power made by men every bit as well as you may feel, draw out, and work the power provided you by the Fade."

“So the only question is whether I’m willing to be publicly humiliated to get justice.” It’s not sarcasm. Colin is very much weighing his options—is this worth it?

It’s worth more than another bottle of poison. It’s worth living for, if he can live in a world that isn’t constantly trying to drive him to that brink. Moreover, it could make life worth living for the next victims, a glimmer of hope for other mages, rather than supplying yet another corpse for the pile. He just has to accept what it means for him.

“It’s to be another walk through the Void again,” he sighs, “but I know the way.” He leans his elbows on the table, considering further, a hard gleam coming to his eyes. “This was exactly what he was afraid of me doing in the Circle. He threatened me with death and worse to keep this from happening. I’m ready to make it come true for him. I’m ready to make men like him think twice.”

Trust people to manipulate the system that's been manipulated against them for hundreds of years, trust it with the life of someone as vulnerable as Colin at stake? It's not something Anders can do, and it's no reflection on the two asking.

Luckily, it's not his faith they actually need and he knows it.

"I'll be here for you," he says quietly to Colin. "Anything you need."

Then he's looking over at the other two evenly. "You'll keep us appraised of how things are progressing and if there are any expected or unexpected challenges that arise?" He can't promise them anything - they'll not understand it based on how they've been acting - but he can hint at having resources. And, for once, use the wrong impression someone has of him. If Byerly thinks he's nothing more than a destroyer, then maybe Byerly will have greater motivation to not fail.

"There is no humiliation in this." It's a rare statement from Byerly Rutyer that carries no sarcasm, no irony, no double meanings. But in that moment, there is nothing but honesty from him. In that moment, his voice is soft and low, but unwavering: his conviction is powerful. It's a sentiment not just for Colin, but for Lexie, as well - not a new one, because in their younger days, he'd shared it often with her. But it bears repeating, always. There is no shame to being surrounded by cruel men. The only shame is in being a cruel man.

The earnestness disappears, of course, as quickly as it came. His eyebrows lift, and he shrugs, all the irony back in him. "But yes, dear fellow, we shan't work in secret. I promise. When revenge is nigh, you shall know it."

Byerly had been the only one to place her fall at Rolant's feet. It had taken her long enough to begin to believe it even in the slightest. That it wasn't entirely her fault for being such a tempting target. Her fault for being credulous, for moving, and looking, and smelling like prey. For believing him. For wanting to believe him. For walking blithely directly into his teeth.

What sin greater than naivete in Orlais?

"Mais oui," Alexandrie affirms. "If we manage this correctly," in her eyes: 'which we will,' "you will be brave and strong, and he will bear the full shame of his actions."

Colin gives a tight, hollow-eyed smile at Byerly, then Alexandrie.

"I appreciate it, but there's plenty of humiliation to go round. People defending him will have all sorts of things to say about me. I could even have been charged with his corruption, in the Circle."

Not that Greagoire was like that, nor Irving. He glances away, brow furrowed.

"The Templars who hear about this will have to condemn one of us. They're pretty eager to distance themselves from stories like mine. I wonder if we could make it easier for them to condemn him instead. Most of the Knights-Corporal in Kinloch Hold knew what he was doing, and they could ruin me if they united against me."

"There is no grounds for humiliation or shame," Anders says quietly. It's not exactly agreement. He knows what's going to be stirred up, and he knows Colin knows. There's no reason to make Colin feel it all over again right now.

"If there's some other sort of blackmail that can be put on the Knights-Corporal, if some of them are doing something underhanded to obtain lyrium, perhaps?" It might be cruel to use their addiction against them, but if they hadn't turned a deliberate blind eye to cruelty and suffering it wouldn't come up. "Divide them so they've reason to condemn this one."

Edited 2019-05-29 06:49 (UTC)

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