When the Viscount heard their report of what had occurred, dreary eyed and clearly exhausted, he was not pleased in the slightest. "Madness. Madness!"
The Keep was still for the most part at this time of night, as most of the city slept at the moment, save for some of the rowdier bars and brothels. Sophia wanted to sleep, too, but she was determined to deliver a better report of the occurrences tonight than she had last time Petrice and these fanatics had been involved. Ignoring the issue wasn't going to make it go away, no matter how uncomfortable or doubtful it made her feel. "The fanatics we've been struggling against were responsible, Father. A Mother Petrice was involved, though it was actually she who led us to the captives. I don't believe the Grand Cleric had any part in this." For that, she was most relieved. Petrice she had no problem seeing as evil. Elthina... she could not.
"Chantry involvement," he father muttered, "even if they are fringe elements. It could not be worse." He sighed, clearly trying to find some light in all this. "But you defeated them? All of them?" Sophia shifted her weight onto the other foot. "We did not kill them, but the rally was disbanded. If they're fool enough to try something like this again, we'll stop them again." And honestly, they probably would. Being beaten in a fight did not often stop fanatics. Killing them would have been wrong, but when she thought about it, if they tried again and succeeded in causing the war they sought, many more lives would be lost than just theirs. But she couldn't allow herself to think in hypotheticals.
"Then that, at least, is something. Not that it matters now. You said two of them survived the ordeal? Then there's no hope of keeping this from the Arishok, I suppose. Is there a chance he will refrain from violence still?"
Lucien answered first, his tone resigned. âIf there is, I think it a long shot,â he said, sighing through his nose. Those delegates had been killedâthe Arishok wasnât going to care if it was two or four. The best option they had was trying to get him to acknowledge the difference between a fringe element and the majority. And for a man who saw the whole of this society as polluted already, that might honestly be too fine a point for him to bother with. In some ways, Lucien could understand this. In others, he desperately wished it were otherwise. The longer this dragged on, the more certain he was that no matter what they did, people were going to die for this. Lots of people. It was becoming far too blurred to even place the blame in one spot particularly. The whole thing was a confluence of unfortunate circumstances and obstinate thinking. Perhaps it could have been avoided, if things had been different sooner. But probably not now.
Amalia, who stood, arms crossed and against a wall, stepped forward, dropping her limbs so that they hung loosely at her sides. It would be a mistake to assume that this meant she was relaxed, however, and if the imposing nature of her black armor was not sufficient to convey that, the stern look on her face might do it. âThere may be one chance remaining to you,â she said, though for once, her tone did not ring of its usual dead certainty. âI will see what I can do, but if you, and these fanatics more importantly, do not recognize it when you see it, there will be no stopping him. Lives will end, and those in this room will not necessarily be spared, whatever his estimation of them.â The pronouncement was grim, and she schooled her face into neutrality. She felt⊠she wasnât exactly sure how she felt. By and large, these were worthy people, and she did not desire that they would die. But if what she had in mind did not work, then there would be nothing she could do.
âYou will want to pay the Arishok a visit. Even redundant knowledge can change thinking when it comes from the right source.â It was her way of saying that they needed to deliver their information themselves, as well as letting it reach him through the survivors. âIn the meantime⊠I do not suggest optimism.â
Sophia wondered where Amalia would land if all of this came down on their heads, and the Qunari chose to become hostile. Unlike any of those in the compound, Amalia was actually trying to keep the peace, actively assisting in pacifying the Qunari and the fanatics rather than hoping for a way around it all. Sophia had no wish to be on opposite sides of a conflict with Amalia, and not only because she was relatively certain she wouldn't survive the encounter. Despite her coldness, Amalia seemed like a good person to Sophia, and she'd done much to help her in the past. As for the lives in the room... well, they'd have to go through Sophia first if they wanted to harm any of them.
"We'd best be off to the docks, then," Sophia said. If his delegates had returned, the Arishok would likely be awake to receive them, and while it might not be wise to speak to him at this hour of night, delaying with this news was a worse choice.
The walk to the dockside compound seemed longer than usual to Amaliaâs way of percieving, but perhaps that was because she was thinking so rapidly during the course of it. She kept her own counsel, but there was no mistaking the fact that the contingencies and possibilities were running through her analytical with dizzying celerity. There was so much that must be done, and she was not yet convinced of the utility of any of it. Her steps, always light, were leaden with the weight of her thoughts. No matter how she tried, she could not shake from her mind the image of the vhenadahl on fire, of the Alienage burning. If she did nothing, she could allow it to come to pass. It would. She knew her acquaintances, her⊠friends was such a strange wordâwere strong, but she also knew the strength of the Antaam, and between a small but tough group of humans and elves and the might of the Qunari strongarm, well⊠sheâd never been one to lie to herself.
Would the battle-lines have to be drawn this way? The demands of the Qun were at once situational and absolute. Answering these demands would make the Arishok and his army into antagonists, more than they already were, and when the time came to stand against them or allow them to pass, she knew not one who would willingly step aside. The lines would be drawn, and what she saw, at night when she could not control her thoughts, would come to pass. She knew it more surely than they did, because they did not understand the Qun, and therefore they did not understand the Arishok. They thought he had choices, but there was only one choice, and if the path to war continued to be laid out before him in such a fashion, he would step forward onto it, without a heartbeatâs worth of hesitation. There was bad blood on the ground, and it was beginning to stink.
Amalia paused when they at last reached the compound itself, because Imekari was there, waiting for them as sheâd said she would be. Amalia felt a small flutter of pride, swelling somewhere between her lungs. How far this one had come, of the strength of her own will and volition. There was something, then, that must be said. Before she reached the gate guard, the Qunari stopped in front of the little mage and spoke. âIf you enter this place, it is not as my student, and it is not as Imekari. You go as Saarebas, and as Ash-Talan, one who seeks the truth. You have passed your test, Aurora, and the rest, you must discover on your own.â Amaliaâs mouth formed a half smile, but her eyes were solemn with a weight she did not quite understand when she placed a hand on the younger womanâs shoulder. Like most of her kind, the Qunari did not touch people often, and never without meaning.
She was about asleep, even positioned as she was. Aurora had taken up a perch on a nearby crate across from the Qunari compound as she waited for the rest of her companions. She sat cross-legged with her chin cradled in her hands, patiently dozing. Going with the others to visit the Viscount would have been far too strange for her to handle. She was an apostate, she did not make visits to the Viscount. So instead she had decided to make a stop at home first, pleading with Milly to do something about her aching ribs. While the woman was (politely) a little miffed, she did what she could in such a short amount of time. That something being a number of bandages wrapped around her chest, easily visible at her neckline.
Once the others arrived, Aurora sprang from the crate-- which had been a mistake, as the sudden movement sent shocks of pain all over her chest. If she was this sore now, then tomorrow would be worse. Getting out of bed the next day would be by far the hardest thing she'd have to do this week-- aside from hearing Milly dote on her. Still, Aurora recovered quickly enough and before long she found herself in front of Amalia. Then something happened that she wasn't expecting. Amalia was never one of the most touchy people she'd met. Whenever she did touch her, it was usually in the form of a punch or a kick, but never had she had a hand on her shoulder.
"Saarebas... Ash-Talan," she repeated, hand reaching up to Ketojan's amulet. It'd been a while since she last heard Saarebas, but she'd never forget its meaning. She smiled as she nodded. Something which is dangerous. "And the seeker of the truth. Thank you, Amalia," Aurora said in earnest. It was a reminder of what she was. Of what she stood to lose if she grew weak. It was also a warning, a warning her enemies would do well to heed. Though part of her wanted to ask what was the truth she was seeking, but she knew that the answer would have to come from her, and not Amalia.
Amalia was all business again in the following moment, however, and her hand returned to her side, whereupon she approached the guard and gained them access. Flicking her glance to Lucien, she gestured that he should go first. He had greater success than most speaking to the Arishok, and this was not news that could come from her.
When the group arrived before the Arishok once more, it was clear that he was expecting them. The two surviving delegates were not present, but the Arishok still had a number of guards around him, and even while the rest of the city slept, the compound seemed quite awake. It wasn't surprising for a military camp, which was exactly what the Qunari had turned this place into. He rested his hands lightly on his knees as they approached, Lucien at the fore.
"So, you could not rescue all of the delegates, but you dealt with those responsible. How do you explain what was done to them?" Despite surviving, the two Qunari that had returned were heavily injured, both from the fight and from before, when they had been helpless at the hands of the fanatics.
Lucien grimaced, but as usual, there was nothing for it but the truth. âFanatics,â he said, his expression grave. âThey used your delegate to incite others of their kind. I think it perhaps obvious from the state we found them in that it was not a merciful process.â Behind him, Amalia shifted slightly, moving her weight from her left foot to her right. She looked faintly ill at ease, but perhaps that was understandable, given what theyâd seen, and what she knew would come next.
"I accept that," the Arishok said simply, keeping a stony facial expression as ever. Sophia's confusion at the easiness of his acceptance must have shown on her face, for he soon added on to his answer. "I have seen every vice and weakness of your kind, and how few of you take responsibility. Your Viscount remains a fool, but you are not." The shock of hearing her father insulted was not so great the second time around, so Sophia was able to contain her displeasure to disgruntled exhale from her nostrils.
"Panahedan, then. I will keep one good thought about your kind."
As soon as the group (sans Amalia, who had remained behind) was clear of the compound and the door shut behind them, Nostariel released a long sigh. She rather wished she had her staff to lean on right nowâthe day had been long, and she was tired. But there was more work yet ahead of them, if that was anything to go by. âDid that⊠sound like a goodbye to anyone else?â Surely, he would have phrased things differently if heâd ever intended to see them again. He certainly had before. But there was something so⊠final about that pronouncement, as though the course was already set and there was nothing more to be done about it. If so, they would really just have to trust in Amalia, and hope that whatever she planned would be sufficient to change things. Nostariel wasnât sure that was fair to expect of anyone, but if there was any person out there who could make someone think differently than they had before, it was Amalia. The Warden was certain sheâd had that effect on everyone here, and some people not here besides.
If it was a goodbye, maybe it meant he'd be leaving and taking all of his warriors with him. The thought was almost laughable for how hopeful it seemed. No, they wouldn't be so lucky. Luck had always been against them, if it had existed at all. Their efforts seemed to only delay the inevitable at this point, but if it could be delayed, then every effort to do so needed to be made. For the moment, Sophia had something she wanted to ask Aurora.
"Aurora," she said tentatively, "If it's alright with you, do you think we might speak privately some time? Not at the Keep, of course." Considering what her stance towards the apostate had been years ago, and what it still lingered on now, that was probably a good deal to ask, but they'd already been able to trust each other enough to fight together, so surely simply speaking would not be so difficult? "About... What exactly?" Aurora asked almost defensively. She'd like to know a bit of what Sophia had planned before meeting with her alone. It might have been a long time ago, but this still was the same woman who wanted to put her in the circle once upon a time.
"I have no intention of trying to imprison you, if that's what you're wondering," Sophia said, her tiredness filtering into her words a little. It was very late, but she didn't know when the next time she'd see the apostate was. "I'm just... curious about a few things, is all. You may decide where we meet, if you like." Aurora nodded, grateful that it didn't involve the circle. "I see," she began, pausing in order to weigh her options. After a bit, she turned toward Lucien and asked, "Do you mind if we borrow your house?" He was the most levelheaded of them all, and if the conversation took a wrong turn, she felt like he could handle it. That, and Aurora really didn't want Sophia to know where she and Milly lived. Lucien, of course, didn't mind in the slightest, and said as much.
The Keep was still for the most part at this time of night, as most of the city slept at the moment, save for some of the rowdier bars and brothels. Sophia wanted to sleep, too, but she was determined to deliver a better report of the occurrences tonight than she had last time Petrice and these fanatics had been involved. Ignoring the issue wasn't going to make it go away, no matter how uncomfortable or doubtful it made her feel. "The fanatics we've been struggling against were responsible, Father. A Mother Petrice was involved, though it was actually she who led us to the captives. I don't believe the Grand Cleric had any part in this." For that, she was most relieved. Petrice she had no problem seeing as evil. Elthina... she could not.
"Chantry involvement," he father muttered, "even if they are fringe elements. It could not be worse." He sighed, clearly trying to find some light in all this. "But you defeated them? All of them?" Sophia shifted her weight onto the other foot. "We did not kill them, but the rally was disbanded. If they're fool enough to try something like this again, we'll stop them again." And honestly, they probably would. Being beaten in a fight did not often stop fanatics. Killing them would have been wrong, but when she thought about it, if they tried again and succeeded in causing the war they sought, many more lives would be lost than just theirs. But she couldn't allow herself to think in hypotheticals.
"Then that, at least, is something. Not that it matters now. You said two of them survived the ordeal? Then there's no hope of keeping this from the Arishok, I suppose. Is there a chance he will refrain from violence still?"
Lucien answered first, his tone resigned. âIf there is, I think it a long shot,â he said, sighing through his nose. Those delegates had been killedâthe Arishok wasnât going to care if it was two or four. The best option they had was trying to get him to acknowledge the difference between a fringe element and the majority. And for a man who saw the whole of this society as polluted already, that might honestly be too fine a point for him to bother with. In some ways, Lucien could understand this. In others, he desperately wished it were otherwise. The longer this dragged on, the more certain he was that no matter what they did, people were going to die for this. Lots of people. It was becoming far too blurred to even place the blame in one spot particularly. The whole thing was a confluence of unfortunate circumstances and obstinate thinking. Perhaps it could have been avoided, if things had been different sooner. But probably not now.
Amalia, who stood, arms crossed and against a wall, stepped forward, dropping her limbs so that they hung loosely at her sides. It would be a mistake to assume that this meant she was relaxed, however, and if the imposing nature of her black armor was not sufficient to convey that, the stern look on her face might do it. âThere may be one chance remaining to you,â she said, though for once, her tone did not ring of its usual dead certainty. âI will see what I can do, but if you, and these fanatics more importantly, do not recognize it when you see it, there will be no stopping him. Lives will end, and those in this room will not necessarily be spared, whatever his estimation of them.â The pronouncement was grim, and she schooled her face into neutrality. She felt⊠she wasnât exactly sure how she felt. By and large, these were worthy people, and she did not desire that they would die. But if what she had in mind did not work, then there would be nothing she could do.
âYou will want to pay the Arishok a visit. Even redundant knowledge can change thinking when it comes from the right source.â It was her way of saying that they needed to deliver their information themselves, as well as letting it reach him through the survivors. âIn the meantime⊠I do not suggest optimism.â
Sophia wondered where Amalia would land if all of this came down on their heads, and the Qunari chose to become hostile. Unlike any of those in the compound, Amalia was actually trying to keep the peace, actively assisting in pacifying the Qunari and the fanatics rather than hoping for a way around it all. Sophia had no wish to be on opposite sides of a conflict with Amalia, and not only because she was relatively certain she wouldn't survive the encounter. Despite her coldness, Amalia seemed like a good person to Sophia, and she'd done much to help her in the past. As for the lives in the room... well, they'd have to go through Sophia first if they wanted to harm any of them.
"We'd best be off to the docks, then," Sophia said. If his delegates had returned, the Arishok would likely be awake to receive them, and while it might not be wise to speak to him at this hour of night, delaying with this news was a worse choice.
The walk to the dockside compound seemed longer than usual to Amaliaâs way of percieving, but perhaps that was because she was thinking so rapidly during the course of it. She kept her own counsel, but there was no mistaking the fact that the contingencies and possibilities were running through her analytical with dizzying celerity. There was so much that must be done, and she was not yet convinced of the utility of any of it. Her steps, always light, were leaden with the weight of her thoughts. No matter how she tried, she could not shake from her mind the image of the vhenadahl on fire, of the Alienage burning. If she did nothing, she could allow it to come to pass. It would. She knew her acquaintances, her⊠friends was such a strange wordâwere strong, but she also knew the strength of the Antaam, and between a small but tough group of humans and elves and the might of the Qunari strongarm, well⊠sheâd never been one to lie to herself.
Would the battle-lines have to be drawn this way? The demands of the Qun were at once situational and absolute. Answering these demands would make the Arishok and his army into antagonists, more than they already were, and when the time came to stand against them or allow them to pass, she knew not one who would willingly step aside. The lines would be drawn, and what she saw, at night when she could not control her thoughts, would come to pass. She knew it more surely than they did, because they did not understand the Qun, and therefore they did not understand the Arishok. They thought he had choices, but there was only one choice, and if the path to war continued to be laid out before him in such a fashion, he would step forward onto it, without a heartbeatâs worth of hesitation. There was bad blood on the ground, and it was beginning to stink.
Amalia paused when they at last reached the compound itself, because Imekari was there, waiting for them as sheâd said she would be. Amalia felt a small flutter of pride, swelling somewhere between her lungs. How far this one had come, of the strength of her own will and volition. There was something, then, that must be said. Before she reached the gate guard, the Qunari stopped in front of the little mage and spoke. âIf you enter this place, it is not as my student, and it is not as Imekari. You go as Saarebas, and as Ash-Talan, one who seeks the truth. You have passed your test, Aurora, and the rest, you must discover on your own.â Amaliaâs mouth formed a half smile, but her eyes were solemn with a weight she did not quite understand when she placed a hand on the younger womanâs shoulder. Like most of her kind, the Qunari did not touch people often, and never without meaning.
She was about asleep, even positioned as she was. Aurora had taken up a perch on a nearby crate across from the Qunari compound as she waited for the rest of her companions. She sat cross-legged with her chin cradled in her hands, patiently dozing. Going with the others to visit the Viscount would have been far too strange for her to handle. She was an apostate, she did not make visits to the Viscount. So instead she had decided to make a stop at home first, pleading with Milly to do something about her aching ribs. While the woman was (politely) a little miffed, she did what she could in such a short amount of time. That something being a number of bandages wrapped around her chest, easily visible at her neckline.
Once the others arrived, Aurora sprang from the crate-- which had been a mistake, as the sudden movement sent shocks of pain all over her chest. If she was this sore now, then tomorrow would be worse. Getting out of bed the next day would be by far the hardest thing she'd have to do this week-- aside from hearing Milly dote on her. Still, Aurora recovered quickly enough and before long she found herself in front of Amalia. Then something happened that she wasn't expecting. Amalia was never one of the most touchy people she'd met. Whenever she did touch her, it was usually in the form of a punch or a kick, but never had she had a hand on her shoulder.
"Saarebas... Ash-Talan," she repeated, hand reaching up to Ketojan's amulet. It'd been a while since she last heard Saarebas, but she'd never forget its meaning. She smiled as she nodded. Something which is dangerous. "And the seeker of the truth. Thank you, Amalia," Aurora said in earnest. It was a reminder of what she was. Of what she stood to lose if she grew weak. It was also a warning, a warning her enemies would do well to heed. Though part of her wanted to ask what was the truth she was seeking, but she knew that the answer would have to come from her, and not Amalia.
Amalia was all business again in the following moment, however, and her hand returned to her side, whereupon she approached the guard and gained them access. Flicking her glance to Lucien, she gestured that he should go first. He had greater success than most speaking to the Arishok, and this was not news that could come from her.
When the group arrived before the Arishok once more, it was clear that he was expecting them. The two surviving delegates were not present, but the Arishok still had a number of guards around him, and even while the rest of the city slept, the compound seemed quite awake. It wasn't surprising for a military camp, which was exactly what the Qunari had turned this place into. He rested his hands lightly on his knees as they approached, Lucien at the fore.
"So, you could not rescue all of the delegates, but you dealt with those responsible. How do you explain what was done to them?" Despite surviving, the two Qunari that had returned were heavily injured, both from the fight and from before, when they had been helpless at the hands of the fanatics.
Lucien grimaced, but as usual, there was nothing for it but the truth. âFanatics,â he said, his expression grave. âThey used your delegate to incite others of their kind. I think it perhaps obvious from the state we found them in that it was not a merciful process.â Behind him, Amalia shifted slightly, moving her weight from her left foot to her right. She looked faintly ill at ease, but perhaps that was understandable, given what theyâd seen, and what she knew would come next.
"I accept that," the Arishok said simply, keeping a stony facial expression as ever. Sophia's confusion at the easiness of his acceptance must have shown on her face, for he soon added on to his answer. "I have seen every vice and weakness of your kind, and how few of you take responsibility. Your Viscount remains a fool, but you are not." The shock of hearing her father insulted was not so great the second time around, so Sophia was able to contain her displeasure to disgruntled exhale from her nostrils.
"Panahedan, then. I will keep one good thought about your kind."
As soon as the group (sans Amalia, who had remained behind) was clear of the compound and the door shut behind them, Nostariel released a long sigh. She rather wished she had her staff to lean on right nowâthe day had been long, and she was tired. But there was more work yet ahead of them, if that was anything to go by. âDid that⊠sound like a goodbye to anyone else?â Surely, he would have phrased things differently if heâd ever intended to see them again. He certainly had before. But there was something so⊠final about that pronouncement, as though the course was already set and there was nothing more to be done about it. If so, they would really just have to trust in Amalia, and hope that whatever she planned would be sufficient to change things. Nostariel wasnât sure that was fair to expect of anyone, but if there was any person out there who could make someone think differently than they had before, it was Amalia. The Warden was certain sheâd had that effect on everyone here, and some people not here besides.
If it was a goodbye, maybe it meant he'd be leaving and taking all of his warriors with him. The thought was almost laughable for how hopeful it seemed. No, they wouldn't be so lucky. Luck had always been against them, if it had existed at all. Their efforts seemed to only delay the inevitable at this point, but if it could be delayed, then every effort to do so needed to be made. For the moment, Sophia had something she wanted to ask Aurora.
"Aurora," she said tentatively, "If it's alright with you, do you think we might speak privately some time? Not at the Keep, of course." Considering what her stance towards the apostate had been years ago, and what it still lingered on now, that was probably a good deal to ask, but they'd already been able to trust each other enough to fight together, so surely simply speaking would not be so difficult? "About... What exactly?" Aurora asked almost defensively. She'd like to know a bit of what Sophia had planned before meeting with her alone. It might have been a long time ago, but this still was the same woman who wanted to put her in the circle once upon a time.
"I have no intention of trying to imprison you, if that's what you're wondering," Sophia said, her tiredness filtering into her words a little. It was very late, but she didn't know when the next time she'd see the apostate was. "I'm just... curious about a few things, is all. You may decide where we meet, if you like." Aurora nodded, grateful that it didn't involve the circle. "I see," she began, pausing in order to weigh her options. After a bit, she turned toward Lucien and asked, "Do you mind if we borrow your house?" He was the most levelheaded of them all, and if the conversation took a wrong turn, she felt like he could handle it. That, and Aurora really didn't want Sophia to know where she and Milly lived. Lucien, of course, didn't mind in the slightest, and said as much.
The Chanter's Board has been updated. Offered and Lost has been completed.