[ The hall is empty. The floor, near to it. The tower. Absence is what caught in his mind to begin with, an empty room to put this question that keeps rocking to and fro across old floorboards, that he won't hang on Isaac's bloodied head, nor drop into Leander's waiting void. That he can't seem to quiet.
It's empty, but he checks first, before he finds his way into Flint's office, lets the heavy door close silent at his back, and asks, ]
Do you think-- [ There's no hello. ] that it would attract more suspicion if I went back, or if I didn't?
[There is a wide table at the center of the room - the dumping ground for reports in the midst of being processed, for annotated maps, and for stacks of chart books in such perpetual consultation that they're never return to their shelves. Today, the maps of Nevarra (which have been there for weeks, tucked under campaign notes on Orlais and intelligence on the trade bound for Val Chevin) lay on top of everything, weighted down with whatever is capable and easy to hand: a book, a candle burning and melting onto the plate beneath it, a paperweight in the shape of a dog.
Flint looks up from his war table in miniature. If he's surprised by the intrusion, he doesn't show it.]
Lock the door behind you. [With that clarified--] I imagine it would depend on what you intended to do when you got there.
[ This is impulse, not plan. But he does turn the lock. Cross toward the table. Gestures in a general sort of way toward the summer palace, the Van Markhams -- Hunter Fell. ]
There are as many as three dozen Fabrias on the estate. Near that again in staff. Few of them fighters.
Start there. What good would you being there personally do any of them?
[Lest it seem like he isn't taking this seriously, he pauses to summon a scroll from a stack of them - unrolls it halfway, then dismisses it for a second which turns out to be a more detailed survey of the land in question. He pins that open over top the rest.]
It was done in the moment. None of us are dead, and as of yet there's been no news that their our involvement has been noticed. There are worse outcomes.
[Think nothing of it isn't accurate - he would prefer Ilias give it some thought -, but the end point is the same.]
Meanwhile, I can't say I would endorse building on the potential that Van Markham could afford mages some degree of latitude by dicing up his knights from the inside. Could your family be persuaded to support him in some meaningful way that might encourage passing them over?
[This is a conversation somewhat divorced from reality, he knows. If the situation is bad enough, it may already be too late to make any difference to the Fabrias. But sometimes these things move more slowly than anticipated.]
[ An incline of the head; there are worse outcomes, yes — like the ones presently looming on the horizon, for example, which may or may not determine the amount of concern he can muster for the state of Flint's organs in the future. Still, a mental note: horse lessons. ]
At the risk of being put to the sword alongside him should he fail, yes. [ Clipped. But the air pushed from his lungs is relenting; a point ceded, the problem twisting its shape under pressure. ]
My grandmother will have made preparations. I gave her enough warning for that. [ And may have neglected to mention doing so. Never mind that— ] But if the ground shifts beneath her feet, the consequences of our actions will not wait for me to ride across the Free Marches to meet them.
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action;
It's empty, but he checks first, before he finds his way into Flint's office, lets the heavy door close silent at his back, and asks, ]
Do you think-- [ There's no hello. ] that it would attract more suspicion if I went back, or if I didn't?
no subject
Flint looks up from his war table in miniature. If he's surprised by the intrusion, he doesn't show it.]
Lock the door behind you. [With that clarified--] I imagine it would depend on what you intended to do when you got there.
no subject
[ This is impulse, not plan. But he does turn the lock. Cross toward the table. Gestures in a general sort of way toward the summer palace, the Van Markhams -- Hunter Fell. ]
There are as many as three dozen Fabrias on the estate. Near that again in staff. Few of them fighters.
no subject
[Lest it seem like he isn't taking this seriously, he pauses to summon a scroll from a stack of them - unrolls it halfway, then dismisses it for a second which turns out to be a more detailed survey of the land in question. He pins that open over top the rest.]
no subject
Fingers ghosting over the edges of the new scroll, ] I can turn a man's organs to mince with barely more than a thought.
[ Is one idea. Speaking of, ]
My apologies for the horse, by the way.
no subject
[Think nothing of it isn't accurate - he would prefer Ilias give it some thought -, but the end point is the same.]
Meanwhile, I can't say I would endorse building on the potential that Van Markham could afford mages some degree of latitude by dicing up his knights from the inside. Could your family be persuaded to support him in some meaningful way that might encourage passing them over?
[This is a conversation somewhat divorced from reality, he knows. If the situation is bad enough, it may already be too late to make any difference to the Fabrias. But sometimes these things move more slowly than anticipated.]
no subject
At the risk of being put to the sword alongside him should he fail, yes. [ Clipped. But the air pushed from his lungs is relenting; a point ceded, the problem twisting its shape under pressure. ]
My grandmother will have made preparations. I gave her enough warning for that. [ And may have neglected to mention doing so. Never mind that— ] But if the ground shifts beneath her feet, the consequences of our actions will not wait for me to ride across the Free Marches to meet them.