faderift | [closed] We are never the culprits

WHO: Martel and Hermione
WHAT: Hermione's still interviewing rifters about their magic.
WHEN: End of Drakonis (so now, basically).
WHERE: Library. Where else?
NOTES: Nerds being nerdy. And maybe angry. But mostly nerdy.

Hermione was ticking off the days since her arrival, growing steadily more anxious as time went on. On the one hand, Thedas had all sorts of problems that needed solving, and she wouldn't feel right, going back home and continuing on with her schooling and her life when mages here were being scorned simply for being able to do magic, or where an ancient magister was wreaking havoc upon the entire world. But on the other hand... would she ever get back home?

She usually wrote it off as useless nay-saying. Of course she'd get back; if not with the Inquisition's help or because of her own ingenuity, then because Harry and Ron and all the others would come through for her. She wasn't the only brilliant witch at Hogwarts, after all. There was no reason to think that someone wouldn't figure out where she'd gone and how she'd gotten there and how to bring her back.

The more she thought about it, though, the more desperate her situation seemed, and she didn't like desperation. So instead, she threw herself into her work, sitting in the library and copying over notes into a more legible format. After all, she had no way of knowing whether she'd met all the rifters in attendance in Skyhold yet, so there was always the chance that more would see her notice on the bulletin board and come looking for her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I've no title," he says, and doesn't linger on it; she can call him Martel or nothing at all. If he were still the Margrave...what would it matter? There's no Damerel here. The ties he builds in Thedas have nothing to do with blood, and for all he neglects to explain it, Damerel has long since been stripped from him, along with any right to be called sir or my lord. He was in a veritable constellation of stars, once upon a time, an aristocrat knight -

It was a long way to fall. And he doesn't linger on it, now.

"As for the difference between sorcery and witchcraft, no, it doesn't. I don't claim any familiarity with the practises, but the official difference is that anything not practised by sanction of the church in the defense thereof is sacrilege punishable by death. If the heretic in question is incidentally a pretty Styric woman who draws the jealous eye of her Elene neighbours, all the better to draw a crowd to her execution."

Speaking of women's rights. Martel's disdain for the attitudes he describes is not subtle.

She looks a little surprised by that. Margrave is a royal title, one he would have been born with, if things worked the same in his world as it does hers. For someone born to a title to now claim he has none....

But that isn't any of her business, not when it comes to someone she's only just met and is trying to figure out how to address. "Then... just Martel, then? I don't want to offend."

Ah. The differences between the two schools of magic in his world seems to lie chiefly in whether the church can make any use of it. And from the sounds of it, accusing women of witchcraft isn't too dissimilar from the witch hunts of old that she's more familiar with.

"In other words, if the church doesn't stand to gain anything from magic, it's by definition evil, and it's more likely than not that women are perceived to be practitioners of this 'evil' magic?" Her face showing more than she'd probably like it to, she looks down as she jots down more notes and mutters, "I already see more similarities than I'd like to."

Martel considers how to clarify the matter (and if he knew she'd misunderstood his former titles, he'd clarify that, too, but it'll have to wait), leaning back in his seat as he chooses his words. The problem with conversations like these, he's found, is that so often they rely on assumptions that are entirely alien to one person or the other; foundation knowledge taken for granted that can't be, that isn't either of those things to the person hearing the explanation.

It's a nuisance, but it's a nuisance that he's becoming accustomed to. At some point, that will mean he trips over it less - with any luck.

"All magic," he says, finally, "is considered sinful heresy by the church. The official stance of the Church of Chyrellos is that there is no, by definition, 'good' magic. That women are more often accused has less to do with magic than it does the cowardice of cruelty. You see, I had to beat her to death; she was a witch."

That his tone doesn't change in the slightest is somewhat chilling.

A quirk of his mouth and he moves along-- "The fundamental difference isn't the practise itself, it's the practitioner. A church knight - a member of one of four militant orders - is considered to be of sufficient moral character and personal faith to more safely imperil his soul for the sake of King and God."

And it is always his.

"There is, further - I came from an Elene country. There are four Elene nations, each represented by one of those orders. There is no Elene practise of sorcery. The orders each have a Styric tutor, who teach the novices the dedicated practise of the god that they follow. A Pandion knight and Cyrinic knight will practise sorcery with very slight differences - much of it identical, a few subtle differences that are often as not down to what interests their tutor and their tutor's patron more."

It's frustrating, having to break down just about every word to its very core just to make sure you understand the full scope of what someone is saying, and it's a frustration Hermione hasn't properly learned how to deal with yet. For now, understanding the nuances behind the roles of magic in different worlds is proving to be enough of a challenge, especially when she hears about places where it's regarded less favorably. Much as she tries to be diplomatic in her approach, she is prone to a rather fiery variation of righteous anger. Thankfully, she knows better than to take it out on the undeserving.

Usually.

Bristling visibly at the thought of beating women to death and using the flimsy excuse of witchcraft to justify it, Hermione scowls deeply up at Martel, hoping he's only using that as an example and not saying that he's actually participated in that sort of thing. As inquisitive as she is, though, she doesn't know that this is a question she wants answered, at least not until she can use more of her magic to hex him soundly if she doesn't care for his response.

"So a knight is thought to be better than the average person, which allows them to take on a bit of the damage one acquires when performing magic. Women, on the other hand, are thought to be just the opposite." It's hard not to be insulted by that prospect, for more than one reason, but she presses her pen down hard against her paper and scratches out her notes as best as she can, glad that she has more control than to simply let the magic spill over and destroy the library.

"And the full extent of what one learns is dependent on regional and individual differences. I suppose that much isn't too different from home. What we learn in the United Kingdom is much different from what they teach in the French and Scandinavian schools. We all still know the same basic spells, but some of them come with a bit of a different sort of flair."

It is, if nothing else, likely a safe bet that a man engaged in that behaviour wouldn't have discussed it in such frank and educated terms, nor described it as an act of cowardice; few are that self-aware, and fewer still understand themselves well enough and have a willingness to depict their own shame to a stranger. Particularly one who might then need to protect herself, when it would be so much simpler to give her no warning at all.

Some of them, in all likelihood, were indeed practitioners. Surprise someone from behind with a strong blow to the head or a knife between the ribs and all the magic in the world won't save their life from a person determined to take it. Once, in his youth and with his brother knights, Martel broke off a switch from a tree and ran down some of the perpetrators on horseback, beat a man bloody until he would not be returning to his village unaided.

It isn't a memory he's particularly proud of. It didn't change anything. It didn't solve anything. The Styrics who died remained dead and the Elene villagers who suffered their punishment only resented it and suspected the Styric-touched knights of secret heresy, unduly influenced by the Styric witch that guided them in Demos. Knowing all that he knows about the impotence of that righteous fury so applied, he'd still probably do it again.

"Men of the church are thought to be better than everyone," he says, dryly. "It isn't an opinion that holds up long if you spend a great deal of time in the Holy City."

Even after living through years of lies and wartime espionage, Hermione still likes to think that most people are, at their core, honest. If Martel had done these distasteful things in his past, and he feels real remorse over them, there's no reason to assume that he wouldn't have described them the way he just had. Except, of course, for shame, but somehow, she didn't take him for the sort to wither in the face of shame. At least, not from the whole two minutes of conversation they'd had so far.

"Again, at least that much isn't different from home," Hermione brings up, hoping she doesn't unintentionally make an embittered remark about how illogical organized religion can be. She's managed to hold her tongue on that front so far, if only because religion is such a remarkably prevalent topic in Thedas. Which leads her to look up at Martel as she asks, "Is religion as important to your world's history as it is here? It seems that hardly a day can pass by without hearing some sort of commentary about the Chantry. It's not quite the same where I come from, though admittedly, that changes significantly depending on what part of the world one might be in at any given time."

[closed] We are never the culprits

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