Post #2572508 in The City of Chains, a roleplay on RPG

There was something about being seen together in public, in a setting like this, that drove home the fact that they were together. Sometimes, Lucien almost believed he’d deluded himself into thinking it, but at present, it had a solidity he could not deny. Comparatively, it was tame compared to some of the things he’d been known to do as a youth, and much, much more reckless than anything he’d done since, simply for all the ways it could go wrong. It was hard to deny the satisfaction of it, though. Something about this, walking out of the theater’s atrium with linked arms, watching the way her face lit up when she was amused or delighted by something, hearing her thoughts on the acting or the story they’d just seen, it was… dangerous, honestly. Because he didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in his life, and his instincts told him it wouldn’t last for exactly that reason.

He was resolved to ignore them.

“I saw this particular show staged in Orlais once,” he admitted. “The set was much grander, but I like this version better. Not everyone dies at the end.” He wondered which version was the less-edited one from the playwright’s original. Probably this one, since the author was Antivan. They didn’t have the same cultural obsession with tragedy and dramatic irony as Orlesians did.

The walk back down from Hightown was pleasant, as dusk was just settling in over Kirkwall, cooling the air outside, but not so much that it became uncomfortable. When the time came to choose a direction, however, Lucien glanced down at Sophia and raised an eyebrow. “Tired of me yet, or do you want to risk a while down at the barracks?” He’d certainly walk her back to the Hanged Man if she preferred, but his father had just sent him another shipment of the family vintage, and he was loath to lose her company in all honesty.

And Sophia was loath to return to the Hanged Man. There was a lot to get used to, for someone who had spent their entire life growing up in Hightown, in a noble's manor or the Viscount's Keep. There was so much less noise in Hightown, and especially in the Keep. Here the streets were hectic, the interior of almost every building in Lowtown's center filled with sound, either from within or beyond. It was difficult to focus when she was alone, and harder to sleep. It would take a while to adapt, but she was confident that she could. Just not right now.

Right now Sophia had put herself in a little two-person bubble, one that seemed like it might break if she let go of Lucien. Feeling that way, she had maintained at least some kind of contact with him the entire evening so far. She was abusing her new privilege, surely, but she couldn't come up with a reason to feel guilty about it. For the moment, he was hers, and she was resolved to take advantage of that as fully as she could.

"Is that even a question? I'm hardly done with you yet." She tugged him away from the street towards the Hanged Man, and they headed off towards the barracks. The streets were fairly crowded, but it was remarkable how little she noticed any of the faces. There was some talk about the two of them, unsurprisingly, for those who listened. Varric had proven that to Sophia quickly enough. It was only a tiny voice in the back of her mind that cared what they said, though. It was easily drowned out.

"Any progress with the new arrival?" she asked, turning her head to look up at him as they walked. She had met Estella briefly the day before, but the girl didn't exactly respond with a welcoming attitude. Sophia knew hardly anything of her, only that she was hanging around with the Lions, without actually joining them. A refugee, if she had ever seen one.

“She’s coming around,” Lucien replied. He’d been trying to coax her into training with the Lions, not having failed to notice the interest with which she observed their drills. So far, she was proving reticent, as though she were afraid to try for some reason. Perhaps she was intimidated—she was yet quite young, and many of the Lions were not. Still, at least one of them was even younger than she was, and Cor had been nothing but eager to learn. It was something deeper than that, he thought, but it would take time and patience to get through to her. “Slowly, but surely.”

They reached the barracks, entering via the front door. As usual, a few of the others were scattered variously around the front room, which was quite large. Even Estella was off in a corner, only one chair away from Cor, which was a positive sign. Both appeared to be reading quite intently. A few of the others were playing cards or chess, and from the fact that Donnelly had already lost his shoes and shirt, the game was Wicked Grace. Lucien suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Closer to the front, however, was a less-expected face.

“Amalia,” Lucien greeted amicably. “I thought you’d have returned home by now.” She’d graciously agreed to help with some of the drilling today, taking his recruits through a series of basic stretches that had rendered basically everyone quite aware of just how inflexible they were. Oddly enough, Idris had been by far the most supple, something that he had teased the others about for some time afterwards.

“Lucien, Sophia,” she said by way of reply, her expression rather at ease, for her anyway. “I was invited to remain for cards, but I fear I will not be in the future.” Apparently, one was not expected to win the game called Wicked Grace having never played before. When she had discovered the penalty for losing a round, however, she had refused to do so. What a strange hobby to have.

“I stayed because I have a question, one that both of you might be able to answer, but if another time is better, I can leave.”

Sophia couldn't help but smile at the idea of Amalia playing Wicked Grace with the others. It was... more of a game for the uninhibited, to put it one way. She hadn't seen the woman much recently, but that had always been true, she supposed. Perhaps she would see her more now, staying in Lowtown as she was.

"We can certainly spare some time for you." She glanced up at Lucien. "Shall we go somewhere more private, then?"

“Let’s use the veranda,” Lucien suggested, referring to the private area off the back of his office, the one with the view of the ocean. Once everyone was properly situated—himself and Sophia on the bench and Amalia actually perched on what was usually a footrest—he poured two glasses of wine, then looked over at Amalia with an obvious question on his face.

“No, but thank you,” she replied. Lucien knew she wasn’t exactly a Qunari anymore, but she didn’t have any particular desire to imbibe even so. She’d never really seen the appeal, and probably never would. He accepted this easily and returned the cork to the bottle, setting it off to one side. Amalia figured she might as well make her question evident now, since the setting was about as comfortable as it could get. “I was… actually intending to ask you to explain a few things about human governance to me. I think your thoughts will also be of value, Sophia, so I am glad you are here.”

Governance… well, that was a bit of a broad topic area, but he supposed he was reasonably well-qualified to talk about it, just as Sophia was. “Was there anything specific you wanted to ask about?”

She nodded slightly. “Qunari are governed, mostly, by an idea. Even those who decide how to handle various portions of our lives are always guided by the Qun, though that can sometimes mean different things to different people. But, even considering that there are people assigned to make these decisions, we don’t have anything like… an aristocracy. There are no kings, nor even… Divines.” There were people at the top of each branch of the Qun, to be sure, but they did not rule in any significant sense. They made decisions where needed, but the Qun itself was rule and law. Here, it seemed that whomever was born into the right circumstances could decide almost as they liked, with no guiding principle. It was the reason why such atrocities as genocides and mass starvations and civil wars were possible. The Qunari did not have those things.

“I wish to know why it is that one’s parentage is seen as giving one the right to rule, while it gives others nothing at all.”

That was... a bit of an interesting question for Sophia to try to answer. Also a slightly awkward one. It occurred to her that, with Amalia remaining in the city so long after the departure of the other Qunari... she must be something different now, unless her duty to the Qun had for some reason demanded she stay. Amalia had never cared to ask about why humans governed themselves the way they did before, so she had to assume something had changed for her to ask about it now. Sadly, Sophia wasn't certain she could give her any kind of reassurances that their way was somehow better.

"Well... you might note my current situation as evidence that I also don't really agree with that principle, of a rule transferred based on bloodlines. I would say that qualities of character should place someone on a throne, though what those qualities are or how to seek them out, I can't say I know." She also couldn't say that she saw them in herself, whatever they were. It was more than being a good person. She had a decent enough opinion of herself to acknowledge that she did right by most people, that she was practiced in generosity, courage, selflessness... but ruling, leadership, it required a certain kind of endurance, a mental strength, to make difficult decisions. A good person might not be able to make necessary sacrifices when she needed to. Their judgement could be fogged by attachments, things they cared about too much. That was what Sophia felt was stopping her, the great barrier between her and moving on to... whatever was next.

Still, perhaps she could at least offer Amalia something. "There are many ways countries justify it, of course. Divine right, if they believe their bloodline was chosen to lead." She certainly didn't feel very highly about that one. "It can often be political. In the absence of a Viscount, Kirkwall's nobility will elect a new one, based on who the majority believe will best move the city forward. Or at least... they're supposed to." It clearly wasn't happening at the moment, though. No real candidates were stepping forward, the last two Viscounts having been slain, and the recent and brewing troubles in the city making the position an utterly unattractive one. Meredith was strongly keeping order in the meantime, and for the nobles, it seemed to be enough, for now.

"Or perhaps it's just about stability. About believing in the future of the nation. A land with no heir, no reliable source to transfer power to, will fall into doubt. It leaves room for those who seek power for themselves to try and make a claim. This can, and has, torn places apart. With a strong heir, the people can feel more secure." She shrugged, before taking a sip of the wine. "It's far from perfect, obviously."

Lucien nodded slightly, twisting the stem of his glass in his fingers. “Orlais has used most of those justifications, at one point or another. The ‘divine right’ excuse flew for a while because our first emperor was basically responsible for the institutionalization of the Chantry in Thedas. But even his bloodline was usurped eventually, by the Valmonts.” There were amusing statues in some older parts of the Empire depicting Lions eating dragons and the like, though it was less a consumption and more a trick of paperwork. That was how empires got along from day to day, ruler to ruler, unless something especially tumultuous occurred.

He wiped a nonexistent smudge from the rim of the glass with the pad of his thumb. “Something else to consider might just be that it isn’t a family that rules, but families. Weaker or stronger, there is always a structure of nobility surrounding any individual ruler. Though they aren’t especially useful in the world down here, nobility do usually have some skills, ones they have been trained for from birth. In Antiva, a country that relies primarily on trade and export to function, that skill is business, and the aristocracy is filled with merchant princes. In Orlais, that skill is in the Game, in manipulating other nobles to get what one wants out of them. So the aristocrats are those especially skilled in this manipulation. It’s just not something a commoner would know how to do, in either case, because they have no reason to know it.” Commoners needed to know how to work, or farm, or barter, or any number of other skills, but at least where he came from, they would be swiftly devoured by the nobility should they even be allowed to attempt the Game.

“Oftentimes, especially good players can get themselves a throne, or something close enough. In that sense, at least, those who can do the most with the power are also the ones who can obtain it. And that, I think, makes sense on some level.” He grimaced slightly. “Of course, not everyone is even given a chance to do that. It is a rare peasant who will ever see the inside of a palace as anything but a servant, let alone be given the option of knowing how to play the Game, and I don’t think there’s any good reason to suppose that those people continuously ignored by my countrymen would not make the best leaders of all of us. But it all reinforces itself—and that makes it very difficult and slow-going to change it.”

Amalia thought she understood now—unlike emotional matters, more political ones were easy enough for her to grasp, because there was logic in them. Very limited, egoistic logic, of course, but once she accepted as a premise that everyone, or at least most everyone, wanted what was best for themselves, it was easy to see how systems like this had developed. Some people had acquired more wealth and resources than others, and used these to build systems that would ensure that their families could continue to do so. Rarefying that tendency for enough generations could quite plausibly lead to systems of nobility and monarchs that operated in just the way Sophia and Lucien suggested they did.

“That much power, for one person…” she mused thoughtfully. “It seems like the kind of thing that could either go very well or very badly. That much risk—I am surprised people accept it, allow it.” Then again, perhaps they had little choice.

"Sadly, not a lot of people will have the power to change anything about it." Or perhaps not sadly. There was a certain danger to anyone having the power to change the way the world functioned around them, but it was also true that there were many good people who wouldn't abuse that ability, if they were capable of grasping it. "Though no few would-be dictators have been overthrown by the people choosing not to allow it."

It was an interesting state of things, to watch Amalia being the one to learn, rather than feeling solid in what she knew, and Sophia could admit she never expected to be teaching her anything.

“And it isn’t usually that hopeless,” Lucien added. “Except in the truly extreme cases, the rest of the nobility holds enough power to check the monarch to some degree. The problem is when they mostly agree on what to do and it’s still terrible.“

“Like Alienages.”

Lucien nodded slowly. “Yes. And worse.” His voice was weighted by something, but she could not identify it and she did not press the issue. Amalia had not failed to observe that human nobility had certain distinctive traits, and that Lucien bore all of these, to one degree or another, save perhaps the incessant conviction that he was right in whatever he did. Sophia lacked that too, fortunately. But she did not need to inquire more deeply, nor did she desire to, if it would make him uncomfortable.

Instead, she accepted what they said with equanimity, and smoothly stood. “Thank you. That was… most illuminating. I’ll leave you to the wine.” A flicker of a smile passed over her face, and then she was gone.

Snippet #2572508

located in Kirkwall, a part of The City of Chains, one of the many universes on RPG.

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