Entry tags:
[CLOSED] nevarra gonna give you up
WHO: Division Heads
WHAT: Deciding which Nevarran relative to visit for Thanksgiving.
WHEN: Nowish, whatever that means.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Prose, but with the spirit of action spam. Tag order is flexible. Don't overthink it etc.
WHAT: Deciding which Nevarran relative to visit for Thanksgiving.
WHEN: Nowish, whatever that means.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Prose, but with the spirit of action spam. Tag order is flexible. Don't overthink it etc.
A chiliagenarian elf, an ex-qunari, two spies, and a pirate walk into a war room.
--Is, some might say tragically so, not the set up to a joke. However, if there is any principle which Riftwatch holds dear, then surely it must be the sentiment 'Work with what you're given' and here the five Division Heads can be found studded about the heavy old war table and emboding that very ideal as Riftwatch turns its attention toward the civil war breaking even now across Nevarra.
(So, yes. There is probably going to be some spirited debate.)
"We'll need to move quickly to see that whichever Nevarran noble houses remain undecided consolidate behind the Van Markhams," says Flint in the tones of a foregone conclusion nearly the moment they're all present and accounted for.

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"Van Markhams?" he asks, nonplussed. "Did I miss something?"
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Tempting as it is to leave it there, the accusation clearly requires explanation.
"A few months ago, Flint and Silver argued quite passionately that we should back the Van Markhams' attempted coup by giving them letters recovered from an earlier mission. The Provost and I voted against it. And yet now those same letters are in Van Markham hands."
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It'd sure suck, though. Luckily, Yseult doesn't sound mad, just disappointed.
"And what did those letters say, just so we're all on the same page?"
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"And say it like you've been naughty," By says - yet while that normally would sound wry and playful, here it sounds flat. Just going through the motions of being amused by this.
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(Fuck off, Rutyer.)
"The letters are correspondence between Aurelia Pentaghast and a Venatori agent coordinating the capture of Perendale by Corypheus' forces, and what was meant to be a subsequent counter attack from Nevarra to liberate the city and win Aurelia backing to take the throne. The papers fell into our hands some time ago. And when I say our hands, I mean the Inquisition's. There's no telling who has copies of those documents now."
All of this is true.
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But she's not stupid. "You had dirt, and everybody agreed not to use it. Now we're getting together to agree on some other shit. Not to stir shit, but how're we gonna make sure whatever decisions we make don't get 'accidentally' fucked again?"
She doesn't look at Flint when she says accidentally. She's disappointed, but there's no point in fracturing their alliance when she doesn't know all the details.
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Eyes open. "But, as fun as it is to see you two fight like starving roosters, let's set that aside for later so we can actually get shit done."
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"He's demonstrated that he has a personal agenda that he's happy to allow to override any duty to this organization or any respect for us or this process. If he cares so little for it, he shouldn't be involved in it."
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"A pity that the Van Markham cause is made so suspect." He smooths down his mustache, then, and looks over at Flint, tilting his chin up slightly as if to acknowledge his continued presence.
"You like a child on the throne? A pretty boy, by all accounts, but pretty does not a statesman make. And we could have made use of those letters if it were the Pentaghast woman."
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Fucking disappointing.
"Then I say we ought to state our cases on who we'd like to support. Individually. I can't say I've made up my mind yet." And she's half-tempted to give up her vote in a sign of humility, or trust, or commitment... but considering Flint's out, it's become dangerously valuable.
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To Thranduil: "What is it that you suggest we do not do for nothing?"
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"You can't seriously be entertaining the idea of supporting Pentaghast. In what possible way could we even begin to defend her actions now?"
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"What actions?" he asks, simpering like the sweetest of ingenues. "Oh, the ones attested to in those forged letters? Dreadful thing, the frame job they tried to do on her. Good thing we have these three ne'er-do-wells who tried to stir up all this trouble right here."
With his hands, he traces the outlines of three invisible villains.
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"A hostage is effective if seems that those holding the hostage...would do something." A little reluctantly, he admits - "We do not precisely have the most hardened reputation here at Riftwatch."
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She turns back to Thranduil and Byerly. "If marriage is off the table, couldn't we give both sides a hostage of equal... importance? Keeps them both acting pretty."
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He’s inspired.
“That would sever her bonds with the Venatori readily, no? Or make her enough enemies among them.”
To Eshal, “I fear they might act in haste if each held the other’s hostage, and the Van Markhams may not agree. We have nothing to use to make them do so.”
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"That," Byerly says, and wonders why he's sticking out his neck, "perhaps would not be entirely honorable. To use young Master Artemaeus so." And that matters why, Byerly? "We should not wish to be transparently dishonorable in Lady Pentaghast's sight - sometimes, warriors such as she are squeamish about that sort of thing." Good enough.
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But as for the fucking present: "I still say we can get more use out of him alive than dead, at this point. If we'd killed him on-sight, that'd be another thing, but it's too late now. Spinning 'we kept him, then conveniently offed him when we were coincidentally brokering a treaty for something unrelated' isn't impossible for Diplomacy, but it'd take almost all our resources and damage Riftwatch's reputation either way."
A moment.
"So we've decided on Pentaghast, then. It's just a matter of how."
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"Fuck Pentaghast and fuck Van Markham. What none of you seem ready to discuss is how you persuade anyone outside this room that this isn't madness. Aurelia isn't who you have to convince; it's the other Nevarran noble houses who are choosing sides. It's Orlais, already losing ground to this war. It is Rifwatch, which is practically half Orlesian and the rest rebel mages and radicals and all of them defined by their personal agendas."
Including those around this table, confessed Ferelden spies and all.
"How are you going to convince any of them that we should be pointing in the same direction - against Corypheus - if you're prepared to support a woman who has been so defined by the conflict of her interests with ours? It doesn't matter what Nevarra can be made to believe; there are people here in the Gallows who know the truth in those papers who won't forget it. Who will see this as proof for why they can't afford to fight for any cause that isn't their own because they cannot afford to trust any part of theirs to us."
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"You have seniority," she says, addressing Thranduil directly, "and my respect. But I would... it's not helpful to continue to entertain his ideas. He just wants us squabbling."
A flashed look at Flint. Prove her wrong.
"Like I said, we agreed on Pentaghast. Now it's a matter of how. From what's been said, I no longer think a peace treaty can be... done."
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"I don't want to sound contrary, but - I think we must continue to entertain the Captain's ideas." A small half-shrug, and a bow to Flint. "He is the head of Forces, and we cannot embark upon this campaign without our forces backing us. We must be united."
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"If you can't convince me, when you know what I did and want, then you won't have any chance of persuading the rest of the people outside this room who you know nothing about."
It isn't much - this feels like the absolute narrowest of finger holds. But it's enough to get him to sit back down. Flint sinks quite low in his chair.
"You may as well get your practice in," he growls, then sets his knuckles hard against his mouth and lapses into silence.
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"What we need," and she looks back at the others now, each in turn encompassed, "Is an actual plan. It hardly matters which side we'd prefer to support when we don't have any real means to do so. The letters were our only bargaining chip with either side. Offering to create evidence that they were forged isn't impossible, but it is complicated and it's not as though we are a trusted voice in Nevarra."
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"It's war," Eshal agrees. "People are afraid and want stability. Some may have deeply-held political opinions, but generally the promise of safety wins out. That is a fact." Unspoken: The Qun, the Qun, the Qun, I know because of the Qun. She opts not to bring it up, if only because it seems like an answer better left in reserve if anyone questions her.
She's not looking at Flint anymore.
"So our plan must offer safety and stability. Even if it leads to war, the after war promise must be safety and stability, and that you will know what you are doing tomorrow and it won't be war. Starting from there, the Pentaghasts have had Nevarra safe and stable for how long? I can't count that high." She can, but that's not the point. "Now- how do we manage the rest?"
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The rest gives her greater pause. "But we can't just concede that there will be a war and focus on the after. If they're warring against each other, they can't fight Corypheus. Tevinter may be content to focus on dismantling Orlais for now but they will look east at some point. Cumberland is nearly as rich a prize as Val Royeaux. And in the meantime, we need their support."
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