"I'm telling you Ril, he'll be here... He said he'd be here, and he'd have no reason to lie right? So he has to be here... Eventually," While it might have sounded like Ashton was trying to comfort the tranquil, all he really was trying to do was calm himself. It'd been an hour since the designated time his contact told him to expect him in the Hanged Man. The stool he sat on might as well not even be underneath him, seeing as he spent most of his time hovering anxiously just over it, madly tapping his feet. His composure was sorely lacking compared to that of the Tranquil next to him, if by definition alone.
The contact Ashton spoke of was a fellow the archer met during his less-than-innocent first year or so in Kirkwall. A man called Garrath. A fine man if one was to look over his unsavory business practices. Which was the polite way to say that he was a smuggler. Obviously, the deal for the day wasn't a simple meet and greet, and Ashton was awaiting a package from the man. A couple of items for Ashton, a bit of information, and something for Rilien, really. A favor owed ensured that the man would play along with Ashton's request, but he was no fool. Things like this never often came free, so for that end, Ashton had a pouch with a couple of soveriegns in it to ensure that the deal went smoothly.
"Dammit Ril, have you seen him?" Ashton asked. The first order of business though, was waiting for the bloody man to get there.
Rilien, quite obviously not sharing in his companion's panic, raised a single brow, as if to inquire whether Ashton was really asking whether or not he'd seen his contact. "No," he replied simply, folding his arms into his sleeves. The only reason he was even here in the first place was because Ashton had vouched for the quality of this contact in procuring certain... delicate materials, which he was now more than wealthy enough to purchase on the black market. Knowledge ran at a steeper price than simple goods, but the expedition earnings had been greater than he'd estimated; enough to purchase a storefront in Hightown, of all places, one with a couple of bedrooms above it. He'd kept the Darktown hovel, though, because he preferred to sleep away from scheming nobles where possible. It was more an old force of habit than something that was necessary here, but he was not one to abandon caution at first sign of relief.
The two tomes he was in the market for were both of arcane nature, rare and likely of such a nature that they would have been illegal if anyone who worked for the Chantry could even read them. Fortunately, this was generally not the case, and those that could probably wouldn't ever be in possession of a copy; mages guarded some secrets from their captors yet still. He was hoping to be able to take advantage of that, while remaining well clear of templars, but if Ashton's man didn't come through, he might have to be a bit more... direct in his acquisition. Perhaps by robbing the Circle.
Ashton narrowed his eyes at the Tranquil, leveling the stare for a few moments before exhaling a defeated sigh. "Don't know why I didn't see that one coming," he muttered shaking his head. The mere thought of Rilien saying something else managed to elicit a chuckle out of the archer. Personally, Ashton was waiting on a few key items as well, though not nearly as rare as Rilien's. Well. One of them was, the other not nearly as so. The first item Ashton waited on was the dragonbone appendage that he had lost in the Deep Roads. As he'd thought, some of the helpers took the chance to run off and pawn his prized trophy as soon as it appeared Ashton wasn't coming out with them. It was the closest Ashton had ever come to beating a man to death. Luckily, he was a resourceful man, so he didn't have to resort to bodily violence like a barbarian.
The next item was just some book Ashton heard in passing. Supposedly it wasn't that rare, and it was just an oddity more than anything. He didn't consider himself a big reader, but with the large chunk of change he had recently come into contact with, he could afford to splurge on himself a little. Supposedly, it was a good book too. Ashton opened his mouth one more time, most likely in order to spout something stupid when the door opened. Obviously, Ashton's eyes darted to the door and stared down the entrant. Finally. It was his man, dressed in dark clothing and a rucksack thrown over his shoulder. The sack, Ashton noted, was a bit smaller than the dragonbone he expected, but he hoped there was a good explanation for that. For Garrath's sake he hoped there was.
He spun around on his stool and ordered three drinks. The bartender bartended the drinks to both Rilien, Ashton, and the empty chair next to him, in anticipation of Garrath. Meanwhile, Ashton whispered under his breath to Rilien, "Alright. Be calm Ril... Why in the hell would I say something like that?" He amended, slapping a palm against his forehead. Of course Rilien was going to be calm, he was a tranquil for the Maker's sake. They don't come any calmer. Indeed, Rilien was rather puzzled as well. It was almost like Ashton assumed he'd never carried out a drop in a public place before.The next couple of actions were smooth, again displaying Ashton's cunning-- or so he'd like people believe. Garrath sat down beside Ashton, dropped the rucksack to the ground and downed his drink. Meanwhile, Ashton counted off a sovereign for the man. Instead of taking it and leaving though, Garrath cough. Ashton, rolling his eyes, counted off two more before the man silently accepted the coins and left, leaving the rucksack under the Archer's chair.
A minute or so passed when Ashton finally ventured to pick up the rucksack and turned the contents out on the bar. Unlikely that anyone would care for a couple of moldy tomes anyway. "Alright Rilsie, take what's yours, and I'll take mine-- oh, what's this," Ashton said, picking up a handwritten note addressed to him.
What to Ashton were 'a couple of moldy tomes' were to Rilien just slightly less important than his own life, and he swiped both of them up off the counter in a whip-quick motion. The first was simple enough to confirm at a glance, and this went immediately into an oiled leather bag, crafted so as to be waterproof, a purchase the Tranquil had made from the hunter's store. He was passable enough with leatherwork, but he lacked Ashton's expertise with hide-type materials, and there was no reason not to buy the best quality he could find.
The second book required a small degree of inspection, and for this, the Tranquil flipped to the center of the tome, cradling the book on one hand so as not to crack the fragile spine, trailing a digit down the page to the right, apparently tracking the progress of his reading. Of course, the runes in which it was written were not recognizable as any commonly-spoken language, and would likely appear to most as incomprehensible gibberish, which was rather the point of it all. Nodding slightly to himself, he slid this one, too, into the bag, cinching it tightly with the provided notched strap.
"I see no half-rotted dragon's forearm," he pointed out, casting a speculative eye over the items arrayed on the counter. "That's what's this letter's for apparently..." Ashton said, crumpling and tossing it. "Seems that my friend was late because he oh so kindly broke into my shop and left my arm under the counter... After taking a flank steak and bottle of stout that was for dinner tonight," Ashton said, the irritation in his voice marred with relief. Now that there was one less thing to worry about, he grabbed the remaining tome on the bar and placed it in the rucksack. That was his, and after what he paid, so was the bloody sack. He then gripped his own drink and tilted it up in a toast. "Pleasure doing business with you, Ril," he said, downing it. "Expect a favor from me eventually," Ashton added, a mischievious twirl in his lips.
It was at about this time that Lucien entered the bar. If the scratch marks on his dark armor and the cut bisecting the eyebrow of his good eye were anything to go by, he'd just come from a job, and probably a dangerous one at that. The plate on his chest looked as though someone had tried to smash it in with a hammer, but had failed to hit with sufficient impact. In reality, it had been his reflexes that saved him from that one, causing him to jump back before the impact, minimizing its force. It had still knocked the breath out of him, and a quickhanded rogue had narrowly missed his eye with a knife. He probably owed Violette his life again for the first dodge, and Rilien for the fact that he'd sensed the sneaky fellow coming.
Lucien was essentially a private person, and rather reserved, but when he did make friends, he made the best in the world, he was quite certain of this.
Speaking of friends, he was pleasantly surprised to note the presence of Rilien in the pub, which he would not have expected, along with Ashton, which was a little less odd but welcome all the same. He couldn't say he knew much about the man, but he seemed a good sort, if one who might occasionally go out of his way to seem the not-so-good kind. Crossing to the bar, he gestured for a mead and sat on Rilien's other side, a small smile erasing the traces of fatigue from his face. Now he looked like he'd been in a fight, won it, and had a great deal of fun doing so, which wasn't too far from the truth. "Evening, gentlemen," he greeted, a light note of mirth infusing the second word. It was an allusion to the recent windfall all three of them had recieved, though of course none of them were any closer to being real Hightown sorts than they had been before.
"Milord," Rilien replied, inclining his head. He'd caught on to the jest, of course, and replied in kind. It was true that he did not often use Lucien's first name, much to the other man's displeasure, but he didn't usually use the title 'Lord' either. Mostly because they both agreed that when one was Orlesian, being one of those was not a compliment, nor any indication of worthiness. As it was usually actual respect that Rilien wished to convey to his friend, he tended to speak the title that Lucien had properly earned, not the one he'd been born with. Of course, as jesting was presently called for, that rule was quite suspended. It was not difficult for him to call up things to say that were not necessarily genuine and to apply these as though they were humor. Generally, he used what he once would have found at least a little bit amusing to do so, but the hollowed statements lacked actual humor, at least for him.
Sometimes, he even managed to miss it. Right now, that was not particularly the case, largely because there was no factor present to interfere with his Tranquility.
He was not surprised to see Lucien here, though the other man's state was a smidge more worn than usual. Likely, he'd just returned from some hired job or another. It was highly unlikey that he still needed to do such things for the coin, which meant he was probably engaging in such activity to keep himself busy, or for the satisfaction of that absurd honor complex of his. For Rilien at least, it was not difficult to tell that for any likely definition of "good," Lucien was among the best of men, and so it had always perplexed him to a degree that the fellow himself seemed not to see it thus, and continued to toil as though he could only become such through his labor. Then again, perhaps that was part of the point. Whatever the case, the Tranquil thought it largely a waste of time, and little more accomplished by it than edging the former Chevalier a bit closer to death each time.
Foolish.
"Ah Lucien, looking as healthy as ever," Ashton quipped, noting the man's worn appearance. Even with the haul they had gained from the expedition, the man was still out gallavanting about like the shining knight that he was. Something about fact felt like it should deign a certain order of respect, but Ashton saw it as a man who was all work and no play-- something he intended to fix right away. "Sit a spell, and do regale us of your current adventures." An eyebrow ascended Ashton's brow, surprised at himself. Since when did he gain such a noble sounding accent? He hadn't been a noble since his first birthday. He blamed the man, and partly Rilien for putting on such a mock regal atmosphere. He'd have to break that too, it seemed.
He raised up two fingers, indicating that he wanted two drinks, one finger for himself, and the other for Lucien. "Let me buy you a drink, I'm already throwing money away," he said, chuckling to himself. The bartender heeded the order, and two drinks were placed in front of Ashton and Lucien. "But really, I would like to know what kind of trouble you've been getting into," Ashton added, a bit more honestly. He was interested in the man, and his ideals. He had enough money to retire his adventuring lifestyle, but he didn't. He didn't know a lot about the man, only that he was the very image of a knight, minus an eye, and fought using a common farming implement. Peg it as innocent curiousity.
"My thanks," Lucien said, accepting the tankard and taking a short draught whilst considering the question. His current adventures? Wasting his life, he was certain his father would say. After all, why do the small good when you could do the large one? He supposed there was something to that, and undoubtedly Lord Drakon would have preferred that his son stay in Ferelden and accept what her newly-minted royal family was offering. But... it hadn't felt right, and though his gut feelings about things had landed him in hot water more often than not, he tended to feel better about things when he was heeding them, for whatever that was worth. He wasn't truly sure why Ashton wished to know, but he saw no harm in sharing this much, anyway. It wasn't like it couldn't be discovered by talking to the right people, and he wasn't at all ashamed of it.
"Well, it's nothing so grandiose as spelunking in forgotten Thaigs," he prefaced with a smile, taking another drink and lowering the tin vessel to the countertop, though his fingers lingered about the handle. "Dealing with bandits, mostly. Darkspawn sometimes. Occasionally I'm hired to escort a merchant's caravan somewhere, particularly if it contains vital things like crops or metals for the smithies. And as you may have been able to guess, not very many people ever accept the offer of peaceful surrender." The smile grew, and he pointed to the cut above his eyebrow. "This is from a run-in with the Coterie. They were trying to unify a few of the raider groups working off the Wounded Coast. It had been a while since I was on a ship properly, and admittedly I was careless with my balance." He almost hadn't gotten away from the knife because of it.
"How about yourselves, then?"
"Research," Rilien replied simply. He had the instinct that he would eventually be letting Lucien in on at least some of what was going on, as the man was out and about over the countryside far more often than most of the people he knew, and there were yet ingredients to be procured if his plans were to come to fruition. But this was not the time or the place for that. "He's not wrong," Ashton noted, taking a dip of his tankard. "Though I'm more in the business of finding what was lost, and a bit of... Light reading," Ashton said, nodding. That sounded about right. He let the moment pass by unmolested before he posed another question. "Well, as rivetting as this current conversation is... I believe I'll change the subject, if there's no objections," He never was one for dry conversation. He liked a bit of meat to it. "Pardon my frankness Lucien, but... I'll take it you you're still accepting jobs," Sure, he assumed that the Chevalier did, considering his current state. Though it was never polite to just assume.
"Riddle me this then, if you've come into possession of a large chunk of change, then why are you still mercenarying about?" He asked, shooting a curious eyeball Lucien's way.
"It's simple enough, really," Lucien replied with a shrug, taking a sip from the tankard. "While I find the ability to materially support myself convenient, I don't work for the money." He wasn't going to pontificate, or extol the virtues of doing good for its own sake-- to do so would largely defeat the purpose altogether. Besides, he'd had enough of people forcing upon him their ideas of what was right and what was not to last several lifetimes, and was not desirous of being that kind of person towards anyone. Honor was not a matter of word, but deed, and it could be lived just as successfully without anyone ever being the wiser. Of course, it was not that he would refuse to explain any further if asked, only that he did not volunteer the information without cause. "A real knight in shining armor type, huh? Tell me Luce, where does need for honor come from? Surely you didn't wake up one morning and decided to be a bastion of righteousness," Ashton asked. Feeling that the question felt a bit out of line, he tried to clean it up a little. "Not that I'm judging... Just curious is all. Not everyday you can quiz a fabled knight," He added with a smile and a draught of his drink.
"I'm nothing so grand as that," Lucien protested, though his tone was calm rather than offended or particularly urgent. "Just a mercenary at the moment, thank you." His smile was wry, and he dropped his chin into his hand, looking down the counter at both of them. Rilien was understandably silent; he'd never had much time for talk of things like honor, and given what he'd been through, Lucien supposed he couldn't blame the Tranquil for that. He couldn't pin down why Ashton was interesed at all; most people weren't. He certainly didn't go out of his way to make it verbally apparent that honor was his motive, unless it was required to clarify something or rationalize a decision.
"The need?" he echoed slowly, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think it's anything so necessary as a need. Plenty of people function without a shred of it." There was something slightly dark in the pronouncement, a shadow of memory that fell over him at the wrong time. He brushed it aside. "I act as I do because I believe it is right. There isn't much more to it than that, truly." He paused a moment, trying to think of a better way to explain it than what essentially amounted to 'just because.' "I suppose... the main argument that I've heard against adopting a code like mine is that it's impractical. That it will allow others some advantage over me, that it might result in my death." He shrugged.
"I'm not unrealistic. I know that acting as I choose to do may very well get me killed. But we all die, and the people who live lives like ours hardly get to decide when. It just seems... more important to know that if death comes, I'll face it in what I hope is the right, and not the wrong. It's the part I get to control, after all." He smiled then, more fully. "And of course, there's the part where doing the right thing tends to, you know, help people out and suchlike."
"Fair enough. Curiosity sated. But still, it doesn't seem very..." He paused for a minute, trying to find the best word to describe it, but it came quickly enough thanks to a glance at Rilien, "Efficent. But then again, I can't judge. I'm not nearly decent a man as you," He said, a hint of the rare serious tone straining his voice. "It's hard a thing to find, this honor of yours. I know nobles willing to throw everything they own away just to see another burn." Another drink of his tankard and he continued.
"You know what? You sound a lot like my uncle. A lot more serious though, and more likely to switch me rather than talk about it-- right, meandering off topic. Uncle. He was.. Old fashioned, living off the land, good ol' survivalist. Honest as you could get. He didn't cheat people, he didn't lie, and he didn't steal. A good man, if a bit liberal with the switch. Tried to beat some of that in me. He failed, if you couldn't tell," He said, chuckling. "What he did tell me though, was to respect the hunt. Respect the living creatures, give them quick, clean deaths. Only kill what you need, and don't waste what you have-- Tears me up thinking about that dragon rotting away in the Deep Roads. Other than that? I'm a scoundrel," He said, grinning.
"Are you now?" Lucien asked, sounding a tad skeptical. While it was true that Ashton acted much more the rake than most, the mercenary couldn't say with any certainty that the demeanor reflected what he was actually made of. Still, he let it sit at that, not particularly inclined to put the other man on the spot. "As for the dragon, well... I can't claim that it was particularly clean, but it was certainly a good fight, and that has a merit its own, I should think. Wouldn't have been much of a dragon if the likes of us could do it in so quickly as a deer, no?"
"Yep, I am. So hide your daughters, hide your wives," he said with a wink and a laugh, downing the rest of his tankard. Well, with his business concluded, he stood from his stool and shouldered his rucksack. He tossed a couple of silvers down for the drinks and leaned between Lucien and Rilien, a hand resting on eaches shoulder. "Well, it's been fun lads, but I must take my leave. Got to get back to my shop before the rot from the dragon limb sets in. Busy, busy busy. I'll see you soon-- probably. We have a funny way of running into each other," he said, parting with another wink and another laugh.
The contact Ashton spoke of was a fellow the archer met during his less-than-innocent first year or so in Kirkwall. A man called Garrath. A fine man if one was to look over his unsavory business practices. Which was the polite way to say that he was a smuggler. Obviously, the deal for the day wasn't a simple meet and greet, and Ashton was awaiting a package from the man. A couple of items for Ashton, a bit of information, and something for Rilien, really. A favor owed ensured that the man would play along with Ashton's request, but he was no fool. Things like this never often came free, so for that end, Ashton had a pouch with a couple of soveriegns in it to ensure that the deal went smoothly.
"Dammit Ril, have you seen him?" Ashton asked. The first order of business though, was waiting for the bloody man to get there.
Rilien, quite obviously not sharing in his companion's panic, raised a single brow, as if to inquire whether Ashton was really asking whether or not he'd seen his contact. "No," he replied simply, folding his arms into his sleeves. The only reason he was even here in the first place was because Ashton had vouched for the quality of this contact in procuring certain... delicate materials, which he was now more than wealthy enough to purchase on the black market. Knowledge ran at a steeper price than simple goods, but the expedition earnings had been greater than he'd estimated; enough to purchase a storefront in Hightown, of all places, one with a couple of bedrooms above it. He'd kept the Darktown hovel, though, because he preferred to sleep away from scheming nobles where possible. It was more an old force of habit than something that was necessary here, but he was not one to abandon caution at first sign of relief.
The two tomes he was in the market for were both of arcane nature, rare and likely of such a nature that they would have been illegal if anyone who worked for the Chantry could even read them. Fortunately, this was generally not the case, and those that could probably wouldn't ever be in possession of a copy; mages guarded some secrets from their captors yet still. He was hoping to be able to take advantage of that, while remaining well clear of templars, but if Ashton's man didn't come through, he might have to be a bit more... direct in his acquisition. Perhaps by robbing the Circle.
Ashton narrowed his eyes at the Tranquil, leveling the stare for a few moments before exhaling a defeated sigh. "Don't know why I didn't see that one coming," he muttered shaking his head. The mere thought of Rilien saying something else managed to elicit a chuckle out of the archer. Personally, Ashton was waiting on a few key items as well, though not nearly as rare as Rilien's. Well. One of them was, the other not nearly as so. The first item Ashton waited on was the dragonbone appendage that he had lost in the Deep Roads. As he'd thought, some of the helpers took the chance to run off and pawn his prized trophy as soon as it appeared Ashton wasn't coming out with them. It was the closest Ashton had ever come to beating a man to death. Luckily, he was a resourceful man, so he didn't have to resort to bodily violence like a barbarian.
The next item was just some book Ashton heard in passing. Supposedly it wasn't that rare, and it was just an oddity more than anything. He didn't consider himself a big reader, but with the large chunk of change he had recently come into contact with, he could afford to splurge on himself a little. Supposedly, it was a good book too. Ashton opened his mouth one more time, most likely in order to spout something stupid when the door opened. Obviously, Ashton's eyes darted to the door and stared down the entrant. Finally. It was his man, dressed in dark clothing and a rucksack thrown over his shoulder. The sack, Ashton noted, was a bit smaller than the dragonbone he expected, but he hoped there was a good explanation for that. For Garrath's sake he hoped there was.
He spun around on his stool and ordered three drinks. The bartender bartended the drinks to both Rilien, Ashton, and the empty chair next to him, in anticipation of Garrath. Meanwhile, Ashton whispered under his breath to Rilien, "Alright. Be calm Ril... Why in the hell would I say something like that?" He amended, slapping a palm against his forehead. Of course Rilien was going to be calm, he was a tranquil for the Maker's sake. They don't come any calmer. Indeed, Rilien was rather puzzled as well. It was almost like Ashton assumed he'd never carried out a drop in a public place before.The next couple of actions were smooth, again displaying Ashton's cunning-- or so he'd like people believe. Garrath sat down beside Ashton, dropped the rucksack to the ground and downed his drink. Meanwhile, Ashton counted off a sovereign for the man. Instead of taking it and leaving though, Garrath cough. Ashton, rolling his eyes, counted off two more before the man silently accepted the coins and left, leaving the rucksack under the Archer's chair.
A minute or so passed when Ashton finally ventured to pick up the rucksack and turned the contents out on the bar. Unlikely that anyone would care for a couple of moldy tomes anyway. "Alright Rilsie, take what's yours, and I'll take mine-- oh, what's this," Ashton said, picking up a handwritten note addressed to him.
What to Ashton were 'a couple of moldy tomes' were to Rilien just slightly less important than his own life, and he swiped both of them up off the counter in a whip-quick motion. The first was simple enough to confirm at a glance, and this went immediately into an oiled leather bag, crafted so as to be waterproof, a purchase the Tranquil had made from the hunter's store. He was passable enough with leatherwork, but he lacked Ashton's expertise with hide-type materials, and there was no reason not to buy the best quality he could find.
The second book required a small degree of inspection, and for this, the Tranquil flipped to the center of the tome, cradling the book on one hand so as not to crack the fragile spine, trailing a digit down the page to the right, apparently tracking the progress of his reading. Of course, the runes in which it was written were not recognizable as any commonly-spoken language, and would likely appear to most as incomprehensible gibberish, which was rather the point of it all. Nodding slightly to himself, he slid this one, too, into the bag, cinching it tightly with the provided notched strap.
"I see no half-rotted dragon's forearm," he pointed out, casting a speculative eye over the items arrayed on the counter. "That's what's this letter's for apparently..." Ashton said, crumpling and tossing it. "Seems that my friend was late because he oh so kindly broke into my shop and left my arm under the counter... After taking a flank steak and bottle of stout that was for dinner tonight," Ashton said, the irritation in his voice marred with relief. Now that there was one less thing to worry about, he grabbed the remaining tome on the bar and placed it in the rucksack. That was his, and after what he paid, so was the bloody sack. He then gripped his own drink and tilted it up in a toast. "Pleasure doing business with you, Ril," he said, downing it. "Expect a favor from me eventually," Ashton added, a mischievious twirl in his lips.
It was at about this time that Lucien entered the bar. If the scratch marks on his dark armor and the cut bisecting the eyebrow of his good eye were anything to go by, he'd just come from a job, and probably a dangerous one at that. The plate on his chest looked as though someone had tried to smash it in with a hammer, but had failed to hit with sufficient impact. In reality, it had been his reflexes that saved him from that one, causing him to jump back before the impact, minimizing its force. It had still knocked the breath out of him, and a quickhanded rogue had narrowly missed his eye with a knife. He probably owed Violette his life again for the first dodge, and Rilien for the fact that he'd sensed the sneaky fellow coming.
Lucien was essentially a private person, and rather reserved, but when he did make friends, he made the best in the world, he was quite certain of this.
Speaking of friends, he was pleasantly surprised to note the presence of Rilien in the pub, which he would not have expected, along with Ashton, which was a little less odd but welcome all the same. He couldn't say he knew much about the man, but he seemed a good sort, if one who might occasionally go out of his way to seem the not-so-good kind. Crossing to the bar, he gestured for a mead and sat on Rilien's other side, a small smile erasing the traces of fatigue from his face. Now he looked like he'd been in a fight, won it, and had a great deal of fun doing so, which wasn't too far from the truth. "Evening, gentlemen," he greeted, a light note of mirth infusing the second word. It was an allusion to the recent windfall all three of them had recieved, though of course none of them were any closer to being real Hightown sorts than they had been before.
"Milord," Rilien replied, inclining his head. He'd caught on to the jest, of course, and replied in kind. It was true that he did not often use Lucien's first name, much to the other man's displeasure, but he didn't usually use the title 'Lord' either. Mostly because they both agreed that when one was Orlesian, being one of those was not a compliment, nor any indication of worthiness. As it was usually actual respect that Rilien wished to convey to his friend, he tended to speak the title that Lucien had properly earned, not the one he'd been born with. Of course, as jesting was presently called for, that rule was quite suspended. It was not difficult for him to call up things to say that were not necessarily genuine and to apply these as though they were humor. Generally, he used what he once would have found at least a little bit amusing to do so, but the hollowed statements lacked actual humor, at least for him.
Sometimes, he even managed to miss it. Right now, that was not particularly the case, largely because there was no factor present to interfere with his Tranquility.
He was not surprised to see Lucien here, though the other man's state was a smidge more worn than usual. Likely, he'd just returned from some hired job or another. It was highly unlikey that he still needed to do such things for the coin, which meant he was probably engaging in such activity to keep himself busy, or for the satisfaction of that absurd honor complex of his. For Rilien at least, it was not difficult to tell that for any likely definition of "good," Lucien was among the best of men, and so it had always perplexed him to a degree that the fellow himself seemed not to see it thus, and continued to toil as though he could only become such through his labor. Then again, perhaps that was part of the point. Whatever the case, the Tranquil thought it largely a waste of time, and little more accomplished by it than edging the former Chevalier a bit closer to death each time.
Foolish.
"Ah Lucien, looking as healthy as ever," Ashton quipped, noting the man's worn appearance. Even with the haul they had gained from the expedition, the man was still out gallavanting about like the shining knight that he was. Something about fact felt like it should deign a certain order of respect, but Ashton saw it as a man who was all work and no play-- something he intended to fix right away. "Sit a spell, and do regale us of your current adventures." An eyebrow ascended Ashton's brow, surprised at himself. Since when did he gain such a noble sounding accent? He hadn't been a noble since his first birthday. He blamed the man, and partly Rilien for putting on such a mock regal atmosphere. He'd have to break that too, it seemed.
He raised up two fingers, indicating that he wanted two drinks, one finger for himself, and the other for Lucien. "Let me buy you a drink, I'm already throwing money away," he said, chuckling to himself. The bartender heeded the order, and two drinks were placed in front of Ashton and Lucien. "But really, I would like to know what kind of trouble you've been getting into," Ashton added, a bit more honestly. He was interested in the man, and his ideals. He had enough money to retire his adventuring lifestyle, but he didn't. He didn't know a lot about the man, only that he was the very image of a knight, minus an eye, and fought using a common farming implement. Peg it as innocent curiousity.
"My thanks," Lucien said, accepting the tankard and taking a short draught whilst considering the question. His current adventures? Wasting his life, he was certain his father would say. After all, why do the small good when you could do the large one? He supposed there was something to that, and undoubtedly Lord Drakon would have preferred that his son stay in Ferelden and accept what her newly-minted royal family was offering. But... it hadn't felt right, and though his gut feelings about things had landed him in hot water more often than not, he tended to feel better about things when he was heeding them, for whatever that was worth. He wasn't truly sure why Ashton wished to know, but he saw no harm in sharing this much, anyway. It wasn't like it couldn't be discovered by talking to the right people, and he wasn't at all ashamed of it.
"Well, it's nothing so grandiose as spelunking in forgotten Thaigs," he prefaced with a smile, taking another drink and lowering the tin vessel to the countertop, though his fingers lingered about the handle. "Dealing with bandits, mostly. Darkspawn sometimes. Occasionally I'm hired to escort a merchant's caravan somewhere, particularly if it contains vital things like crops or metals for the smithies. And as you may have been able to guess, not very many people ever accept the offer of peaceful surrender." The smile grew, and he pointed to the cut above his eyebrow. "This is from a run-in with the Coterie. They were trying to unify a few of the raider groups working off the Wounded Coast. It had been a while since I was on a ship properly, and admittedly I was careless with my balance." He almost hadn't gotten away from the knife because of it.
"How about yourselves, then?"
"Research," Rilien replied simply. He had the instinct that he would eventually be letting Lucien in on at least some of what was going on, as the man was out and about over the countryside far more often than most of the people he knew, and there were yet ingredients to be procured if his plans were to come to fruition. But this was not the time or the place for that. "He's not wrong," Ashton noted, taking a dip of his tankard. "Though I'm more in the business of finding what was lost, and a bit of... Light reading," Ashton said, nodding. That sounded about right. He let the moment pass by unmolested before he posed another question. "Well, as rivetting as this current conversation is... I believe I'll change the subject, if there's no objections," He never was one for dry conversation. He liked a bit of meat to it. "Pardon my frankness Lucien, but... I'll take it you you're still accepting jobs," Sure, he assumed that the Chevalier did, considering his current state. Though it was never polite to just assume.
"Riddle me this then, if you've come into possession of a large chunk of change, then why are you still mercenarying about?" He asked, shooting a curious eyeball Lucien's way.
"It's simple enough, really," Lucien replied with a shrug, taking a sip from the tankard. "While I find the ability to materially support myself convenient, I don't work for the money." He wasn't going to pontificate, or extol the virtues of doing good for its own sake-- to do so would largely defeat the purpose altogether. Besides, he'd had enough of people forcing upon him their ideas of what was right and what was not to last several lifetimes, and was not desirous of being that kind of person towards anyone. Honor was not a matter of word, but deed, and it could be lived just as successfully without anyone ever being the wiser. Of course, it was not that he would refuse to explain any further if asked, only that he did not volunteer the information without cause. "A real knight in shining armor type, huh? Tell me Luce, where does need for honor come from? Surely you didn't wake up one morning and decided to be a bastion of righteousness," Ashton asked. Feeling that the question felt a bit out of line, he tried to clean it up a little. "Not that I'm judging... Just curious is all. Not everyday you can quiz a fabled knight," He added with a smile and a draught of his drink.
"I'm nothing so grand as that," Lucien protested, though his tone was calm rather than offended or particularly urgent. "Just a mercenary at the moment, thank you." His smile was wry, and he dropped his chin into his hand, looking down the counter at both of them. Rilien was understandably silent; he'd never had much time for talk of things like honor, and given what he'd been through, Lucien supposed he couldn't blame the Tranquil for that. He couldn't pin down why Ashton was interesed at all; most people weren't. He certainly didn't go out of his way to make it verbally apparent that honor was his motive, unless it was required to clarify something or rationalize a decision.
"The need?" he echoed slowly, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think it's anything so necessary as a need. Plenty of people function without a shred of it." There was something slightly dark in the pronouncement, a shadow of memory that fell over him at the wrong time. He brushed it aside. "I act as I do because I believe it is right. There isn't much more to it than that, truly." He paused a moment, trying to think of a better way to explain it than what essentially amounted to 'just because.' "I suppose... the main argument that I've heard against adopting a code like mine is that it's impractical. That it will allow others some advantage over me, that it might result in my death." He shrugged.
"I'm not unrealistic. I know that acting as I choose to do may very well get me killed. But we all die, and the people who live lives like ours hardly get to decide when. It just seems... more important to know that if death comes, I'll face it in what I hope is the right, and not the wrong. It's the part I get to control, after all." He smiled then, more fully. "And of course, there's the part where doing the right thing tends to, you know, help people out and suchlike."
"Fair enough. Curiosity sated. But still, it doesn't seem very..." He paused for a minute, trying to find the best word to describe it, but it came quickly enough thanks to a glance at Rilien, "Efficent. But then again, I can't judge. I'm not nearly decent a man as you," He said, a hint of the rare serious tone straining his voice. "It's hard a thing to find, this honor of yours. I know nobles willing to throw everything they own away just to see another burn." Another drink of his tankard and he continued.
"You know what? You sound a lot like my uncle. A lot more serious though, and more likely to switch me rather than talk about it-- right, meandering off topic. Uncle. He was.. Old fashioned, living off the land, good ol' survivalist. Honest as you could get. He didn't cheat people, he didn't lie, and he didn't steal. A good man, if a bit liberal with the switch. Tried to beat some of that in me. He failed, if you couldn't tell," He said, chuckling. "What he did tell me though, was to respect the hunt. Respect the living creatures, give them quick, clean deaths. Only kill what you need, and don't waste what you have-- Tears me up thinking about that dragon rotting away in the Deep Roads. Other than that? I'm a scoundrel," He said, grinning.
"Are you now?" Lucien asked, sounding a tad skeptical. While it was true that Ashton acted much more the rake than most, the mercenary couldn't say with any certainty that the demeanor reflected what he was actually made of. Still, he let it sit at that, not particularly inclined to put the other man on the spot. "As for the dragon, well... I can't claim that it was particularly clean, but it was certainly a good fight, and that has a merit its own, I should think. Wouldn't have been much of a dragon if the likes of us could do it in so quickly as a deer, no?"
"Yep, I am. So hide your daughters, hide your wives," he said with a wink and a laugh, downing the rest of his tankard. Well, with his business concluded, he stood from his stool and shouldered his rucksack. He tossed a couple of silvers down for the drinks and leaned between Lucien and Rilien, a hand resting on eaches shoulder. "Well, it's been fun lads, but I must take my leave. Got to get back to my shop before the rot from the dragon limb sets in. Busy, busy busy. I'll see you soon-- probably. We have a funny way of running into each other," he said, parting with another wink and another laugh.