[ He gestures with hands spreading apart, one dipping away. His knee bounces. ]
Well. Not on the road. You know. Near it. [ Sensing that this is not the strongest point in his story he carries on, just a little too fast: ] I got hit in the head and such and Denis and Madame Denis took me to La Roque-Gageac and took care of me for a real long time, and they didn't have to do that, they could've just left me where I was and I would've died. And I was real grateful that they didn't, so when I got better I stayed and helped on the farm and at the forge a bit in the village. They don't have anybody to help since their sons died and the smith too, and it seemed like the least I could do, them saving my life and all. Except I guess they don't have anybody anymore now on account the rift. There's no way to get this out so I can go back, is there?
[ Rusty goes a little grey at that off-hand threat(? offer? comment?), which seems all the more serious for its casual delivery, and the momentum of his answer and whatever next one he'd been gearing up for sputters out. ]
Please don't cut off my hand, sir. The only trades I know need hands. I'll--I'll be straight with you, alright? I don't like lying, I've never been much good at it, I just don't want to die or get tortured or bring trouble on the Denises or nobody. Truth is I was in the army, sir, at Ghislain. With the Anders out of Nordbotten. I got my head cracked in there and the rest is like I told you.
[ Rusty is a bit slow to take up the pencil, hesitating with his mouth open before shutting it again in a frown. He writes, haltingly and carefully, a few times scribbling things out and trying again.
After ten or fifteen minutes, he's provided the names (with questionable spellings and some actual question marks) of a number of Tevinter commanders and Warden leaders, some year-old gossip about overall numbers and especially Tevinter numbers, and a rough map:
[The sum of which Flint studies for agonizingly long, silent minutes, the latter of which requires being turned around before he realizes that, no-- he had it the right direction up the first time.
On the scale of Very Sensible Paranoia and Ah Yes, I've Dealt with Idiots Like This Before, the proliferation of actual question marks steers this firmly toward the latter.]
I don't suppose you've made contact with anyone since leaving La Roque-Gageac? Someone who was part of the invasion force, I mean. Not just anyone you happened to meet on the road between here and there.
[ A necessary clarification, as Rusty had just started counting off on his fingers, preparing a mental list of the people he met on his journey to Kirkwall. He stops, and shakes his head. ]
[ Rusty frowns some more, thinking about that one for a minute. He's not sure he is an Ander soldier really, anymore, and he's also not sure whether he wants to be useful to Riftwatch. Flint is reassuringly normal and in fact reminds him very much of one of his commander's commanders, but that doesn't erase all the stories he's been hearing all this time. ]
I don't know. I don't know what you all do here besides [ a little gesture with his palm, like he's beaming the anchor around ] rifts and mage things.
I do know some about fighting darkspawn. I'd help with that, if I'm able. And I can do a bit of smithing or help with the animals.
[ His frown sticks, troubled and thoughtful in equal measure. ]
We didn't know there was darkspawn with us until they attacked, sir. At Ghislain. We don't hold with darkspawn where I come from. I can't believe Wardens would do that. And demons and--all the rest. I didn't know the V-- the Tevinters were the ones that did that until Messere Buillenne told me what he saw. I don't think most of my folk'd support it either if they knew.
[--is honest, even if the sound of it is dust dry. It cracks open a variety of other minor problems, certainly, but there is some satisfaction to be had from the fact that not every soul in their enemy's force has been tempered into some kind of wild-eyed zealot. What a comfort it is that every army in the world includes blind foot soldiers.]
And should you think of some method by which to pass word of it to either the Anderfels or the army, I'd be happy to hear of it.
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Well. Not on the road. You know. Near it. [ Sensing that this is not the strongest point in his story he carries on, just a little too fast: ] I got hit in the head and such and Denis and Madame Denis took me to La Roque-Gageac and took care of me for a real long time, and they didn't have to do that, they could've just left me where I was and I would've died. And I was real grateful that they didn't, so when I got better I stayed and helped on the farm and at the forge a bit in the village. They don't have anybody to help since their sons died and the smith too, and it seemed like the least I could do, them saving my life and all. Except I guess they don't have anybody anymore now on account the rift. There's no way to get this out so I can go back, is there?
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Please don't cut off my hand, sir. The only trades I know need hands. I'll--I'll be straight with you, alright? I don't like lying, I've never been much good at it, I just don't want to die or get tortured or bring trouble on the Denises or nobody. Truth is I was in the army, sir, at Ghislain. With the Anders out of Nordbotten. I got my head cracked in there and the rest is like I told you.
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A beat follows, after which a drawer on the desk is opened. Flint produces a series of blank sheets of paper from it.]
Can you write?
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Well enough.
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[The paper is set before him, graphite from the tin cup on the desk accompanying it. If it's worthwhile, it can be copied in ink later.]
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After ten or fifteen minutes, he's provided the names (with questionable spellings and some actual question marks) of a number of Tevinter commanders and Warden leaders, some year-old gossip about overall numbers and especially Tevinter numbers, and a rough map:
he's trying ok ]
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On the scale of Very Sensible Paranoia and Ah Yes, I've Dealt with Idiots Like This Before, the proliferation of actual question marks steers this firmly toward the latter.]
I don't suppose you've made contact with anyone since leaving La Roque-Gageac? Someone who was part of the invasion force, I mean. Not just anyone you happened to meet on the road between here and there.
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No sir. Not since the battle.
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Right.
[The graphite is returned to its tin cup with a hollow tak.]
You'll forgive me for being skeptical of an Ander soldier in our midst. How exactly do you plan to make yourself useful to us?
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I don't know. I don't know what you all do here besides [ a little gesture with his palm, like he's beaming the anchor around ] rifts and mage things.
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[And in the process, Riftwatch and her allies are likely to fight the same force he'd been shaken free of.]
The 'rifts and mage things' work toward that goal.
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[ His frown sticks, troubled and thoughtful in equal measure. ]
We didn't know there was darkspawn with us until they attacked, sir. At Ghislain. We don't hold with darkspawn where I come from. I can't believe Wardens would do that. And demons and--all the rest. I didn't know the V-- the Tevinters were the ones that did that until Messere Buillenne told me what he saw. I don't think most of my folk'd support it either if they knew.
no subject
[--is honest, even if the sound of it is dust dry. It cracks open a variety of other minor problems, certainly, but there is some satisfaction to be had from the fact that not every soul in their enemy's force has been tempered into some kind of wild-eyed zealot. What a comfort it is that every army in the world includes blind foot soldiers.]
And should you think of some method by which to pass word of it to either the Anderfels or the army, I'd be happy to hear of it.