Your quartermaster - he was your quartermaster, correct? I have the right of it? - is lost. And you are loosed from the strictures of the Inquisition. I presume you have a plan or two.
[A pause. Why do these conversations always happen in circumstances where he can't simply attempt to stare Byerly Rutyer into submission?]
I thought I might start with raiding the shipping in the harbor. The difficulty would be in escaping the lowering of the chain after, but I sense if we acquired possession of the dockside compound at roughly the same time that the Viscount could be persuaded to release us if it meant avoiding a prolonged occupation. There's no Champion easy to hand with which to cut my head off and I doubt there is anyone in Kirkwall who feels like hosting yet another prolonged occupation.
To the end that we leave here rich men and then retire to Llomerryn, which I hear is still eating itself in the East. We should have gone there to begin with, you might say, but had we done so we'd have nothing but a timely retreat with which to broker business. But with the winnings from Kirkwall, I would be well-equipped to take possession of the point and do whatever I pleased. Perhaps I would begin by fattening my purse off the Exalted March's engorged supply lines. From there? Who can say.
[ It seems the dear captain wants him off-balance. Of course, heaven knows the man doesn't need to be up to something nefarious to be secretive. His very nature is secretive.
Well. A smooth lie - ]
Not particularly. What about you? Does your heart bleed for anyone apart from your man?
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I thought I might start with raiding the shipping in the harbor. The difficulty would be in escaping the lowering of the chain after, but I sense if we acquired possession of the dockside compound at roughly the same time that the Viscount could be persuaded to release us if it meant avoiding a prolonged occupation. There's no Champion easy to hand with which to cut my head off and I doubt there is anyone in Kirkwall who feels like hosting yet another prolonged occupation.
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To what end?
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Is that what you want to hear, Mr Rutyer?
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I have no desires, Captain Flint. I am but a vessel for the truth.
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[A sudden shift of temperature and tone - no less sharp edged, but something like a knife turned the wrong way around. Not a threat. Just there.]
Has anyone ever spoken on your incredible capacity for patience before?
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You know, I think you're the very first to comment on it.
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[Shifting still--] Did you know any of them well?
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Well. A smooth lie - ]
Not particularly. What about you? Does your heart bleed for anyone apart from your man?
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[It sounds like he's being honest. Or partly so. Or, or, or.]
You're a fortunate man, Rutyer. You must extend some of that patience to the rest of us.
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Tell me, Mr Rutyer. Is there any limit to what you believe yourself entitled to?
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[This isn't for you, Byerly Rutyer.]
Is there something you need, or are you just testing depth?
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