The boisterous atmosphere didn't seem to bother Lucien at all. On the contrary, he was distinctly smiling as he stood against a far wall, beside Rilien closely enough that it was obvious they were in some way associated, but not engaging the Tranquil in conversation. At least, not verbally. The reality of the situation was simple: they didn't need to speak to communicate, as anyone who'd spent enough time on a battlefield with another person could have attested. Granted, there wasn't much to be communicated at the moment, but then that wasn't so bad. He was content to tip his head back to rest against the wall and sink into a little bit of nostalgia. Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away, this bard had been a frequent party guest of the empress herself, and the complex melodies he wove were a background tapestry to much of the mercenary's former life. Strange, that it could call to mind so much of that world even now, when he was in much the opposite situation.
The Tranquil's fingers played easily over the strings of his lute, occasionally lilting his voice into the air as well. Of course, he doubted much of it was heard, or rather listened to, but it was of no concern to him. The tavern paid him a flat rate for this kind of thing, and he'd thought it would be a pertinent sort of thing to do, to see just who it was that would be constituting this expedition. He was almost certain he would be inviting himself along, as for the most part, they did not inspire confidence. Beside thim, unspeaking but present, was Ser Lucien, and in this way, it was not so different from a few years ago, when they'd crowded the tavern with the rest of the revelers after the archdemon had fallen 'neath the hand of the Warden-Queen Cousland.
The last few notes faded, and Rilien shifted his grip on the lute, holding it at his side rather than in front of him. There appeared to be some form of contest occurring in the vicinity, and for the moment it was drowning out most else. "Ser Lucien," he acknowledged at last, "I was not aware that you would be participating in this venture. Were the Darkspawn in Denerim not sufficient?" He blinked, catlike and apparently uninterested, but it was an honest query, if also one tinged with that faint humor that one could only see if they knew to look for it.
Lucien chuckled under his breath, adjusting his posture and lifting his head again so as to properly meet his friend's unusual eyes. "You know me, Ril. I never pass up an opportunity to put myself in mortal danger." A joke, but only just. He did seem to find himself in peril more often than most people, including most mercenaries, but then, that was just the way he lived. Worthy causes were rarely the easy ones, after all.
To that, Rilien offered no reply. He had none, and none was needed. The Chevalier knew that the Tranquil thought his near-religious adherence to honor was foolish. Near-religious because the religious could only hope to approach Lucien's dedication. Most of them would never achieve it; Rilien was of the opinion that no ordinary person was even capable of it. They all thought about things like self-preservation. It was an interesting quandary: the very quality he disdained in the other man was the reason once-Bard yet drew breath and did not rot somewhere in an unmarked grave. It was difficult to give it the contempt it deserved, considering. So he didn't, choosing instead to occasionally comment upon it but otherwise leave it be.
Interesting to him were the cases where the cold, Tranquil logic he'd been cursed with met conflict. There was only one thing it could mean, and that was that his level of concern with a person had at long last overridden his cold calculation. This possibility, the very existence of the part of him that could still hold another person in regard, he had discovered only because of the man towering beside him. Rilien was never certain if he should thank Lucien for this, or disembowel him. Then again, he'd tried that once, and it hadn't worked out very well for him. Sparrow had Lucien to thank for her current lodgings, and if anyone else thought they owed him anything, well, that probably came back to the knight as well. Life was strange that way.
The Viscount's daughter had been trying to make her way from the bar with some wine, figuring it had to be at least a little better than the ale and being sadly disappointed, when she had been ambushed by a pair of the expedition's hirelings. "Again," she repeated to them, "I was not alone when I slew the dragon, nor do I think I could have killed the dragon alone. Just as much, if not more credit should go to the Dalish elf and the Qunari woman sitting over..." she had been about to point them out to the hirelings, as she'd seen them talking together at a table, but now both were gone, leaving Sophia pointing at nothing, and leading to a sigh. "Well, the point is, I wasn't alone. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
It was clear they didn't plan on excusing her, but Sophia had come here to see some people and to attempt to enjoy herself, not to be interviewed, and while she appreciated word of her actions spreading, the embellishments were... interesting. No doubt the charming dwarf had something to do with it, with his ability to command an audience in this establishment. At last making her way through the throng of people to where she had seen Lucien go, she sighed in relief and allowed herself to continue with the wine. Considering that this was supposed to be something of a party and not so much a trip into Lowtown to get herself into trouble, Sophia had favored a dress over chainmail tonight, certainly nothing fancy, a dark blue dress that looked as though it could have belonged to a merchant's daughter as much as the Viscount's. Her hair was down, falling in golden droves around her shoulders.
She found Lucien conversing, albeit not very much, with the bard, a white haired elf. "You know," she said, coming to a stop before the mercenary, "Hightown parties might win in the category of sophistication, but compared to this, they're sorely lacking in spirit." Indeed, noble parties were often disguises for whatever games the attendants wished to play, power moves hidden behind a birthday or a wedding. This was... simple, and undeniably more honest. She turned to introduce herself to the bard.
"I would love to hear you play more, you're very good. My name is Sophia Du..." she paused in a rather awkward moment, her face screwing itself up in temporary confusion when she noticed the brand upon his forehead. She knew it for what it was, but now that she thought about it, she had never really conversed with a Tranquil before. They'd always just been there if there had been mages around, or if she had required anything of the Circle. "...mar," she finished. "Forgive me for asking, but are you affiliated with the Circle here?"
The Tranquil was aware of a third party entering the conversational sphere, and he prepared himself to retreat from it. While he would always have words to offer the Chevalier if he required them, he was not a talkative person as a rule, and did not enjoy the subtle intricacies and power gambits involved in ordinary parlance. Unfortunately, he was directly addressed. The compliment, plain as it was, was one thing, and he was used to dealing with those. A small inclination of the head and another song would serve his purposes quite well, but for some unfathomable reason, the flaxen-haired woman chose to give him further address. Did she not see the...?
Ah, there it was. He'd been on the recieving end of that look more than once. Glancing once at his friend as if to say 'this is what happens when I'm forced to associate with people you know,' he was met with nothing, and sighed internally. Twisting his wrist, he brought the lute back up to playing position and worked at tuning it, occasionally plucking a string. The third one was a little off, actually... He didn't need to look to fix it, and instead flicked a glance between the woman and Lucien. He thought the part where the last Drakon was followed around by those of the female persuasion would have ended when his title was stripped, but to be fair, this one had not the air of a hanger-on. "...No." And that was as much as she was getting out of him on the subject.
Well, wasn't this quite a sight? He wouldn't call the attempted conversation anything so horrible as a carriage wreck, but it certainly was going about as well as he'd have imagined, which was to say very, very awkwardly. Deciding to spare Sophia the indignity of replying to that, amusing as he thought it would be, Lucien stepped in to smooth things over as well as he could. "Ah, I suppose you haven't met. Sophia, this is Rilien Falavel. He's a dear friend of mine, originally from Orlais as I am. Ril, well... the lady introduced herself, so I suppose I need not. She's also a friend." The statement was just slightly pointed. He didn't expect Rilien to change his demeanor simply because Sophia was a friend of his, but it was a subtle warning all the same.
He was cautioning the Tranquil against acting too against type. He had no idea how many of his sort Sophia had met, but if the number was at all large, it wouldn't take much to figure out that Rilien was not like them. Even he, who had interacted with very few, had been able to figure that out. He did not begrudge the Viscount's daughter her faith in the slightest, but if he could prevent his closest friend from being hauled into the Kirkwall Circle and executed, he would. Whatever that took.
The caution was correctly interpreted, and Rilien still wasn't sure why he bothered. Even so, he chose to amend his previous answer in his hollowest monotone. "I see. It is nice to meet you, Sophia Dumar, friend of Ser Lucien. However, I am on contract to provide accompanyment for this evening's festivities, and must continue to do so. If you will both excuse me." He dutifully ignored Ashton's whistle, letting both he and Sparrow pass without so much as a wayward glance, then relocated himself slightly further away, so as not to be intruding upon any further conversation between the parties involved. His instrument properly attuned, he started up another song, to add truth to his words as much as anything else.
Sophia's reaction to Rilien's simple no had been to stare rather dumbly for a moment, at least until Lucien spoke. Apparently the two were good friends, but Lucien explained no more, and then the Tranquil moved off so as to not disturb them, or perhaps to simply not participate in a conversation. He had said he was contracted to play tonight, and so it only made sense. The being a Tranquil part didn't make a bit of sense, though, but Lucien's clear statement of his status as a friend was enough to give Sophia pause in a situation where her suspicion would have otherwise overpowered anything else.
"I... suspect there's a story behind that one," she said, but she didn't feel like pursuing the topic further, having something else on her mind. "Shall we sit? There's something I wanted to ask you." She found the nearest table she could, which was easy enough considering that many of the hirelings in the Hanged Man preferred to stand and drink, and on this particular night, there had even been a decent sized space cleared for dancing, though the women present were considerably outnumbered by the men.
When they were seated across from each other at a table, Sophia took a drink of wine, ignoring the taste. "So I've been thinking... you've been working as a mercenary here in Lowtown. I have not heard the best things about many of the mercenary groups in the city, and I can't imagine making a go of it as a freelancer would a very efficient path. Forgive me for saying, but it seems a waste of your time, and your talents, to be forced into taking jobs for coin." She didn't state this expedition specifically, considering that this was a celebration for the members of said expedition, but she couldn't help but think it.
"You're the most honorable man I know. If Hightown had just a few more nobles that were like you, the city wouldn't be in nearly so bad of shape as it is. I just... feel like you deserve better. Oh! Not that I'm saying what you have is in any way inadequate, I just think men like yourself are far too few in this city to be spent on mercenary work, when they could be doing something more." There was more to this, she knew there was. He carried himself so well, acted with a dignity that no lowborn mercenary would learn. He said he had been a Chevalier, a Knight, many steps above a sell sword for certain. So why was he one? He was holding himself back for some reason, and she wanted him to stop, or at least find out why, so that she might help him as he had already helped her.
"If you want, after you return from this expedition, which you will return from," she said, her lips curling into a small smile. It was the closest thing to an order she'd given him since they had met. "My family could use your services. I could use your help. I would see to it that any needs are taken care of, so that you need not sell your blade for coin anymore. I... could ask the smithy to forge you a greatsword, if you like. The scythe seems such a difficult tool to use..." It was as much a question as a statement, as she was very curious why Lucien chose to fight with that particular instrument. Surely the Chevaliers hadn't taught him to use it.
Lucien was quiet while she spoke, as courtesy demanded. He was also, he had to admit, interested to hear what she had to say, and in the end, he wore a subtle quirk to his lips for the majority of it. It wasn't that he found her words humorous, only unexpected. When all had been said, he hummed a ponderous syllable in the back of his throat and raked a hand through his shaggy mane of hair. "I think," he said slowly, letting his words ferment just a little before he uttered them, in case he should decide against passing them over his tongue at all, "that you may be giving me a little too much credit. I do not mistake your offer for anything but the honor it is, and I am humbled that someone herself so worthy thinks so highly of me."
There was a pause, not necessarily uncomfortable, but laden with an implication he was not certain he was making sufficiently clear. There were some things that could only be said in the elegance of silence, but other things which required words. "Were my circumstances different, I would accept without hesitation. I would have you know this, so that you do not think my indecision is your fault. But there are things I have not told you about myself that may warrant your reconsideration. This was not an attempt at duplicity on my part, I swear to you; I simply never thought there would come a time when the information was relevant."
Lucien sighed, and for once, his shoulders slumped, as though a weight of some significance had been added to them. "I am... less informed than I should be regarding Kirkwall's diplomatic relations with Orlais, but I do not believe hiring that country's most contentious exile in recent years will do you any favors. The nobles were quite divided on the matter, and some would doubtless view the act well. But such a deed would be inherently a political one, and therefore one that deserves the most careful of considerations. Whether you intended to or not, you would be showing favor for my aunt and her allies and disfavor upon others, including certain mid-level Chantry officials." He finished off his brandy and gestured for another, but his single visible eye did not leave hers.
"It is a long story, and not all of it is mine to tell. But I promise you this: ask of me anything, and you will recieve only truth, even if that must be silence. I would also understand if you wish to rescind your offer in light of the circumstances, and I would certainly not hold it against you."
Sophia knew full well this was not the ideal location for this conversation, but considering that it would be a few weeks before she would be able to speak with him again, it seemed worth it to bring it up. What he had said, though, what he had hinted at... Sophia was able to put a few pieces of the puzzle together. "Of course. I should not have sprung this upon you here. If you feel comfortable sharing, perhaps we can discuss this further when you return, and a better opportunity is presented to us." There was no need to state what she thought she had learned about him, since this was not a conversation he wanted to have here, and she was certainly not going to try and force it upon him.
She took a longer drink of wine, noticing that the taste was diminishing with each sip. Perhaps the Hanged Man’s spirits were simply an acquired taste. Rather than try to shift the discussion to something else just as serious, Sophia decided on something else, Rilien’s music floating to her ears and bringing a slightly mischievous smile to her lips. This was a celebration, was it not? Then what was she doing sitting here speaking of mercenary work and greatswords? “I do have one question for you,” she asked, leaning forward. “Do they teach Chevaliers how to dance in Orlais?”
"With as much fervor as they teach us to fight," he replied lightly, standing and stepping out behind his chair. Bowing chivalrously, he extended one hand. "Would milady be so generous as to do me the honor?" The slightly-crooked smile was an indication that he wasn't giving it quite that much gravity, but manners were manners, be they in a lowbrow tavern or at a lavish party with all the world's wealthiest. Normally, he probably wouldn't have asked, as the music one heard in taverns was not conducive to the sort of dancing one learned for the ballroom, but Rilien was a world-class bard, and there were no two ways about that.
It was hard to give a dance of any kind gravity in the Hanged Man, and Sophia’s smile turned into something of a little grin when she took his hand, sliding to her feet, the pair heading for the space cleared for dancing. It certainly wasn’t similar to the settings she was used to, sparkling rooms and ridiculous gowns that she had to be sown into, gilded affairs that were always weighed down by one hidden agenda or another.
This was simply a chance to have some honest fun in a way that she couldn’t in Hightown, and for that, Sophia was glad.
The Tranquil's fingers played easily over the strings of his lute, occasionally lilting his voice into the air as well. Of course, he doubted much of it was heard, or rather listened to, but it was of no concern to him. The tavern paid him a flat rate for this kind of thing, and he'd thought it would be a pertinent sort of thing to do, to see just who it was that would be constituting this expedition. He was almost certain he would be inviting himself along, as for the most part, they did not inspire confidence. Beside thim, unspeaking but present, was Ser Lucien, and in this way, it was not so different from a few years ago, when they'd crowded the tavern with the rest of the revelers after the archdemon had fallen 'neath the hand of the Warden-Queen Cousland.
The last few notes faded, and Rilien shifted his grip on the lute, holding it at his side rather than in front of him. There appeared to be some form of contest occurring in the vicinity, and for the moment it was drowning out most else. "Ser Lucien," he acknowledged at last, "I was not aware that you would be participating in this venture. Were the Darkspawn in Denerim not sufficient?" He blinked, catlike and apparently uninterested, but it was an honest query, if also one tinged with that faint humor that one could only see if they knew to look for it.
Lucien chuckled under his breath, adjusting his posture and lifting his head again so as to properly meet his friend's unusual eyes. "You know me, Ril. I never pass up an opportunity to put myself in mortal danger." A joke, but only just. He did seem to find himself in peril more often than most people, including most mercenaries, but then, that was just the way he lived. Worthy causes were rarely the easy ones, after all.
To that, Rilien offered no reply. He had none, and none was needed. The Chevalier knew that the Tranquil thought his near-religious adherence to honor was foolish. Near-religious because the religious could only hope to approach Lucien's dedication. Most of them would never achieve it; Rilien was of the opinion that no ordinary person was even capable of it. They all thought about things like self-preservation. It was an interesting quandary: the very quality he disdained in the other man was the reason once-Bard yet drew breath and did not rot somewhere in an unmarked grave. It was difficult to give it the contempt it deserved, considering. So he didn't, choosing instead to occasionally comment upon it but otherwise leave it be.
Interesting to him were the cases where the cold, Tranquil logic he'd been cursed with met conflict. There was only one thing it could mean, and that was that his level of concern with a person had at long last overridden his cold calculation. This possibility, the very existence of the part of him that could still hold another person in regard, he had discovered only because of the man towering beside him. Rilien was never certain if he should thank Lucien for this, or disembowel him. Then again, he'd tried that once, and it hadn't worked out very well for him. Sparrow had Lucien to thank for her current lodgings, and if anyone else thought they owed him anything, well, that probably came back to the knight as well. Life was strange that way.
The Viscount's daughter had been trying to make her way from the bar with some wine, figuring it had to be at least a little better than the ale and being sadly disappointed, when she had been ambushed by a pair of the expedition's hirelings. "Again," she repeated to them, "I was not alone when I slew the dragon, nor do I think I could have killed the dragon alone. Just as much, if not more credit should go to the Dalish elf and the Qunari woman sitting over..." she had been about to point them out to the hirelings, as she'd seen them talking together at a table, but now both were gone, leaving Sophia pointing at nothing, and leading to a sigh. "Well, the point is, I wasn't alone. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
It was clear they didn't plan on excusing her, but Sophia had come here to see some people and to attempt to enjoy herself, not to be interviewed, and while she appreciated word of her actions spreading, the embellishments were... interesting. No doubt the charming dwarf had something to do with it, with his ability to command an audience in this establishment. At last making her way through the throng of people to where she had seen Lucien go, she sighed in relief and allowed herself to continue with the wine. Considering that this was supposed to be something of a party and not so much a trip into Lowtown to get herself into trouble, Sophia had favored a dress over chainmail tonight, certainly nothing fancy, a dark blue dress that looked as though it could have belonged to a merchant's daughter as much as the Viscount's. Her hair was down, falling in golden droves around her shoulders.
She found Lucien conversing, albeit not very much, with the bard, a white haired elf. "You know," she said, coming to a stop before the mercenary, "Hightown parties might win in the category of sophistication, but compared to this, they're sorely lacking in spirit." Indeed, noble parties were often disguises for whatever games the attendants wished to play, power moves hidden behind a birthday or a wedding. This was... simple, and undeniably more honest. She turned to introduce herself to the bard.
"I would love to hear you play more, you're very good. My name is Sophia Du..." she paused in a rather awkward moment, her face screwing itself up in temporary confusion when she noticed the brand upon his forehead. She knew it for what it was, but now that she thought about it, she had never really conversed with a Tranquil before. They'd always just been there if there had been mages around, or if she had required anything of the Circle. "...mar," she finished. "Forgive me for asking, but are you affiliated with the Circle here?"
The Tranquil was aware of a third party entering the conversational sphere, and he prepared himself to retreat from it. While he would always have words to offer the Chevalier if he required them, he was not a talkative person as a rule, and did not enjoy the subtle intricacies and power gambits involved in ordinary parlance. Unfortunately, he was directly addressed. The compliment, plain as it was, was one thing, and he was used to dealing with those. A small inclination of the head and another song would serve his purposes quite well, but for some unfathomable reason, the flaxen-haired woman chose to give him further address. Did she not see the...?
Ah, there it was. He'd been on the recieving end of that look more than once. Glancing once at his friend as if to say 'this is what happens when I'm forced to associate with people you know,' he was met with nothing, and sighed internally. Twisting his wrist, he brought the lute back up to playing position and worked at tuning it, occasionally plucking a string. The third one was a little off, actually... He didn't need to look to fix it, and instead flicked a glance between the woman and Lucien. He thought the part where the last Drakon was followed around by those of the female persuasion would have ended when his title was stripped, but to be fair, this one had not the air of a hanger-on. "...No." And that was as much as she was getting out of him on the subject.
Well, wasn't this quite a sight? He wouldn't call the attempted conversation anything so horrible as a carriage wreck, but it certainly was going about as well as he'd have imagined, which was to say very, very awkwardly. Deciding to spare Sophia the indignity of replying to that, amusing as he thought it would be, Lucien stepped in to smooth things over as well as he could. "Ah, I suppose you haven't met. Sophia, this is Rilien Falavel. He's a dear friend of mine, originally from Orlais as I am. Ril, well... the lady introduced herself, so I suppose I need not. She's also a friend." The statement was just slightly pointed. He didn't expect Rilien to change his demeanor simply because Sophia was a friend of his, but it was a subtle warning all the same.
He was cautioning the Tranquil against acting too against type. He had no idea how many of his sort Sophia had met, but if the number was at all large, it wouldn't take much to figure out that Rilien was not like them. Even he, who had interacted with very few, had been able to figure that out. He did not begrudge the Viscount's daughter her faith in the slightest, but if he could prevent his closest friend from being hauled into the Kirkwall Circle and executed, he would. Whatever that took.
The caution was correctly interpreted, and Rilien still wasn't sure why he bothered. Even so, he chose to amend his previous answer in his hollowest monotone. "I see. It is nice to meet you, Sophia Dumar, friend of Ser Lucien. However, I am on contract to provide accompanyment for this evening's festivities, and must continue to do so. If you will both excuse me." He dutifully ignored Ashton's whistle, letting both he and Sparrow pass without so much as a wayward glance, then relocated himself slightly further away, so as not to be intruding upon any further conversation between the parties involved. His instrument properly attuned, he started up another song, to add truth to his words as much as anything else.
Sophia's reaction to Rilien's simple no had been to stare rather dumbly for a moment, at least until Lucien spoke. Apparently the two were good friends, but Lucien explained no more, and then the Tranquil moved off so as to not disturb them, or perhaps to simply not participate in a conversation. He had said he was contracted to play tonight, and so it only made sense. The being a Tranquil part didn't make a bit of sense, though, but Lucien's clear statement of his status as a friend was enough to give Sophia pause in a situation where her suspicion would have otherwise overpowered anything else.
"I... suspect there's a story behind that one," she said, but she didn't feel like pursuing the topic further, having something else on her mind. "Shall we sit? There's something I wanted to ask you." She found the nearest table she could, which was easy enough considering that many of the hirelings in the Hanged Man preferred to stand and drink, and on this particular night, there had even been a decent sized space cleared for dancing, though the women present were considerably outnumbered by the men.
When they were seated across from each other at a table, Sophia took a drink of wine, ignoring the taste. "So I've been thinking... you've been working as a mercenary here in Lowtown. I have not heard the best things about many of the mercenary groups in the city, and I can't imagine making a go of it as a freelancer would a very efficient path. Forgive me for saying, but it seems a waste of your time, and your talents, to be forced into taking jobs for coin." She didn't state this expedition specifically, considering that this was a celebration for the members of said expedition, but she couldn't help but think it.
"You're the most honorable man I know. If Hightown had just a few more nobles that were like you, the city wouldn't be in nearly so bad of shape as it is. I just... feel like you deserve better. Oh! Not that I'm saying what you have is in any way inadequate, I just think men like yourself are far too few in this city to be spent on mercenary work, when they could be doing something more." There was more to this, she knew there was. He carried himself so well, acted with a dignity that no lowborn mercenary would learn. He said he had been a Chevalier, a Knight, many steps above a sell sword for certain. So why was he one? He was holding himself back for some reason, and she wanted him to stop, or at least find out why, so that she might help him as he had already helped her.
"If you want, after you return from this expedition, which you will return from," she said, her lips curling into a small smile. It was the closest thing to an order she'd given him since they had met. "My family could use your services. I could use your help. I would see to it that any needs are taken care of, so that you need not sell your blade for coin anymore. I... could ask the smithy to forge you a greatsword, if you like. The scythe seems such a difficult tool to use..." It was as much a question as a statement, as she was very curious why Lucien chose to fight with that particular instrument. Surely the Chevaliers hadn't taught him to use it.
Lucien was quiet while she spoke, as courtesy demanded. He was also, he had to admit, interested to hear what she had to say, and in the end, he wore a subtle quirk to his lips for the majority of it. It wasn't that he found her words humorous, only unexpected. When all had been said, he hummed a ponderous syllable in the back of his throat and raked a hand through his shaggy mane of hair. "I think," he said slowly, letting his words ferment just a little before he uttered them, in case he should decide against passing them over his tongue at all, "that you may be giving me a little too much credit. I do not mistake your offer for anything but the honor it is, and I am humbled that someone herself so worthy thinks so highly of me."
There was a pause, not necessarily uncomfortable, but laden with an implication he was not certain he was making sufficiently clear. There were some things that could only be said in the elegance of silence, but other things which required words. "Were my circumstances different, I would accept without hesitation. I would have you know this, so that you do not think my indecision is your fault. But there are things I have not told you about myself that may warrant your reconsideration. This was not an attempt at duplicity on my part, I swear to you; I simply never thought there would come a time when the information was relevant."
Lucien sighed, and for once, his shoulders slumped, as though a weight of some significance had been added to them. "I am... less informed than I should be regarding Kirkwall's diplomatic relations with Orlais, but I do not believe hiring that country's most contentious exile in recent years will do you any favors. The nobles were quite divided on the matter, and some would doubtless view the act well. But such a deed would be inherently a political one, and therefore one that deserves the most careful of considerations. Whether you intended to or not, you would be showing favor for my aunt and her allies and disfavor upon others, including certain mid-level Chantry officials." He finished off his brandy and gestured for another, but his single visible eye did not leave hers.
"It is a long story, and not all of it is mine to tell. But I promise you this: ask of me anything, and you will recieve only truth, even if that must be silence. I would also understand if you wish to rescind your offer in light of the circumstances, and I would certainly not hold it against you."
Sophia knew full well this was not the ideal location for this conversation, but considering that it would be a few weeks before she would be able to speak with him again, it seemed worth it to bring it up. What he had said, though, what he had hinted at... Sophia was able to put a few pieces of the puzzle together. "Of course. I should not have sprung this upon you here. If you feel comfortable sharing, perhaps we can discuss this further when you return, and a better opportunity is presented to us." There was no need to state what she thought she had learned about him, since this was not a conversation he wanted to have here, and she was certainly not going to try and force it upon him.
She took a longer drink of wine, noticing that the taste was diminishing with each sip. Perhaps the Hanged Man’s spirits were simply an acquired taste. Rather than try to shift the discussion to something else just as serious, Sophia decided on something else, Rilien’s music floating to her ears and bringing a slightly mischievous smile to her lips. This was a celebration, was it not? Then what was she doing sitting here speaking of mercenary work and greatswords? “I do have one question for you,” she asked, leaning forward. “Do they teach Chevaliers how to dance in Orlais?”
"With as much fervor as they teach us to fight," he replied lightly, standing and stepping out behind his chair. Bowing chivalrously, he extended one hand. "Would milady be so generous as to do me the honor?" The slightly-crooked smile was an indication that he wasn't giving it quite that much gravity, but manners were manners, be they in a lowbrow tavern or at a lavish party with all the world's wealthiest. Normally, he probably wouldn't have asked, as the music one heard in taverns was not conducive to the sort of dancing one learned for the ballroom, but Rilien was a world-class bard, and there were no two ways about that.
It was hard to give a dance of any kind gravity in the Hanged Man, and Sophia’s smile turned into something of a little grin when she took his hand, sliding to her feet, the pair heading for the space cleared for dancing. It certainly wasn’t similar to the settings she was used to, sparkling rooms and ridiculous gowns that she had to be sown into, gilded affairs that were always weighed down by one hidden agenda or another.
This was simply a chance to have some honest fun in a way that she couldn’t in Hightown, and for that, Sophia was glad.