Discussions Happening Over Dinner
I skimmed the letter so eagerly that it was difficult for me to absorb what it said, but the words about red crystal certainly caught my attention. The last paragraph confused me though:
I continue to enjoy my visit to Wycome, and I confess that I hope I do not hear the noisy clatter of the Inquisition's armored troops ruining my quiet afternoons. The elves of Clan Lavellan, by contrast, are quiet, like their poor cousins here in Wycome's alienage, and it might be a welcome change to my daily regime to see them in the future.
"What is she asking for?" I demanded. "Does she want us to send troops?"
"No," Leliana answered, coming closer so she could also see the letter. "Do you see how these words dip slightly below the line of the others?" she asked, pointing.
Now that she drew attention to it, I did see that. Not. Troops. Change. Regime. Those were the words highlighted.
"In her last letter, Deshanna was worried for the elves in the alienage," I told them slowly. "Cullen's troops are already in place - we could simply march on and take the city."
"Leaving your clan exposed," Leliana pointed out.
"Lady Volant would not have urged caution regarding the movement of troops without reason," Josephine insisted. "It may be that the city guard is already poised to descend on the alienage. It would take time to march troops, and time before the city fell. Plenty of time for a purge of the alienage."
"Creators," I sighed, cursing my own blindness. "You're right, of course. What are our other options?"
"Why not mimic the strategy you ordered in Halamshiral?" Leliana asked. "I already have agents in place within the city. We could easily begin moving the most vulnerable out, sending them to shelter with your clan, if your Keeper would be amenable. We can replace their numbers with more scouts and a few of Cullen's elven soldiers, perhaps even some members of your clan, all of them smuggling in weapons. Thus, when the blow falls, the alienage will not be undefended."
It felt as though a weight had lifted from my chest. "Yes - yes. Ir abelas, of course I should have thought of that. Fear for the safety of my clan makes me…" I couldn't find a gentler word that still fit. "Stupid," I finished.
"Fear has been known to do that on occasion, my dear," Vivienne put in dryly. "Well, it seems to me you have more pressing matters to sort out. Send a messenger if you manage to organize them in time to practice some etiquette tonight, darling. If not, then I will see you in the morning."
"Actually," I said before she could leave, "could we have dinner together tonight? I want to hear how your potion-making progresses, and there was another matter I wanted to discuss with you." I had been too exhausted from spending hours upon hours dancing the last two nights to tackle the delicate subject of the judgments I intended to make.
"Delighted, my darling," she replied with what might or might not have been sincerity.
"I'll have something sent up to my chamber for us," I told her, then bade her goodbye for the present and followed Josephine and Leliana to the war room.
We sent a runner for Cullen and began drafting a letter to Deshanna. Once the Commander arrived, we started in on troop movements.
Cullen always advocated for marching in with the army - it was his job, after all - and he might have been somewhat more concerned by the red lyrium poisoning the water than he was with protecting the alienage. He backed down in the face of the united - and disapproving - front that Leliana, Josephine, and I presented, though, and then helped us work out who should go, and when, and how many weapons we could spare for the elves in the city.
It would have been easy to continue debating and planning all night, even after we had sent the raven to Deshanna, but my advisors eventually gently but firmly put an end to our meeting. As it was, I had just enough time to bathe and change into slightly more formal clothing before meeting Vivienne, which I did at Josephine's suggestion. Apparently dressing up for dinner was an Orlesian custom, and though I understood it was all about showing off wealth and power, all I could think of was how much time and money they must waste having the multiple outfits they wore each day cleaned.
I thought Vivienne was pleased to find me freshly bathed and wearing far more lace and gilt than I usually bothered with, with my hair arranged in a complicated braided knot on top of my head, though she probably wouldn't have approved so much had she seen me chatting with the servant who had done my hair.
"You look lovely tonight, my dear," the Enchanter told me, leaning in to kiss the air near my cheeks.
"You always look lovely," I replied, because it was true.
She brushed the compliment aside and followed me up the stairs, to the table that had been set for us.
It was, apparently, impolite to discuss business over dinner, and so we shared light stories from our pasts. Vivienne was a sparkling conversationalist when she decided to put forth the effort, and she did so now, describing court events and the various faux pas - both sartorial and social - of those in attendance. I suspected that it was a subtle sort of lesson, a way for her to help me better understand the court in a more relaxed atmosphere, but I didn't mind. I needed a better understanding the court, after all. Anyway, it wasn't as though she dominated the conversation. She asked me questions about my own experiences growing up among the Dalish and listened with every appearance of interest.
Over wine at the end of our meal, Vivienne told me a little more about the potion she was brewing, though it was evidently a long and involved process that wouldn't be finished until around the time we left for Halamshiral. "Then I have only a few weeks to see it administered before it loses its potency," she said, and a shroud of melancholy seemed to fall over her.
"Which member the Council of Heralds did you say it was for?" I asked.
"I didn't," she replied, shaking off her mood, her lips twitching up slightly. "His name would mean little to you as he certainly won't attend the ball."
Josephine had given me information on the Council of Heralds to look over, but it was true she had prioritized those we knew would be in attendance.
"What did you wish to speak to me about?" Vivienne asked before the silence could grow uncomfortable - and before I could press the subject of the potion.
I took a breath. "The mages who used blood magic to bind and corrupt Wisdom," I said. I looked toward the blurred view beyond my windows. Solas assured me it was magnificent, though I hadn't yet taken the time to seek it out in the Fade. "I…had to stop Solas from killing them on the spot," I told her in a low voice. "They truly didn't understand what it was they were doing to Wisdom, even though they knew blood magic was wrong, of course. I'm not going to order death for them now."
Vivienne's expression had grown remote, but it wasn't outright disapproving. "Nor Tranquility, I suppose."
"Tranquility is just death in which the victim is forced to remain tethered to the world instead of being freed to journey to the Beyond," I told her with some acid. "It's a coward's path. If I think someone deserves death, I will kill them ."
"I won't argue with you on that point, my dear," she replied. "Our disagreements on the matter are mere details and not worth arguing over. I respect your adherence to principle. But I presume you agree that some penalty is warranted."
"Certainly," I agreed swiftly. "They must make reparations as best they can. Though I confess that I haven't entirely worked out what best means in this scenario."
Vivienne sat quietly for a moment, sipping at her wine. "You know I have little sympathy for the loss - if it can truly be called such - of a demon, but resorting to blood magic demonstrates an alarming weakness of character," she said. "Of course you realize I would see the inherent threat in such weakness ended through death or Tranquility. Mages must at all times be above reproach."
"Mages are people, Vivienne," I replied. "No one is at all times above reproach. Moreover, people are capable of change."
"Is it truly worth the risk, my dear?" she asked me sharply. "With all the damage a mage might wreak on the powerless and innocent?"
I tilted my head, considering. "The mage rebellion was inevitable, so - "
She made a soft sound of disapproval and surprise. "Inevitable? Certainly not."
I peered at her across the table, studying her expression, though even with my ability to see more clearly at Skyhold, it gave away very little. "One of the things Dalish fear from the Circle - have always feared from the Circles, as far as I am aware - is the moment it all implodes. We worried that the templars would purge all mages, and hunt us down afterward. The Circle has always been unsustainable. It's clear, I think, to anyone who stands entirely outside the system. You can't…separate people from their families, their children, their responsibilities , place them in a situation ripe for abuse, and expect them to remain mentally stable."
That seemed to take her aback slightly, though I could tell she wanted to argue further. "Not all Circles engendered - or tolerated - abuse," she insisted.
"Enough clearly did to rot the entire system from within," I argued right back. "My point was - look at how much damage the mage rebellion did. Even allowing that the same amount of destruction would have occurred under a more lenient system, is it truly better to have it concentrated into a few years rather than having it spread over centuries?"
"And if more destruction would have occurred under a more lenient system?" she countered coldly.
"Are we only counting damage to those entirely outside the system, or does the damage done to mages and to the templars the Chantry used up and then tossed aside count for something?" I asked.
She drew in a sharp breath, and I thought that at least my point about the templars had landed.
A sudden thought struck me, and I followed up with an entirely different question before she could regain her balance. "Do you have any ideas for reparations the blood mages might make?"
I surprised her again. "And why would you desire my advice?" she wondered.
"Because you're clever, and good at…seeing weaknesses in others and exploiting them in ways that don't seem especially harsh from the outside, but that hit their targets like perfectly aimed daggers," I replied.
Her lips quirked slightly, and I could tell she was somewhat pleased that I had noticed. "If you will not strip them of their magical abilities, strip them of all social power," she replied. "Give them menial work that visibly places them beneath even servants - socially speaking. Give them over to assist the servants, perhaps."
I turned over the suggestion, appreciating the principle behind it, but for one detail: "Doesn't that imply that the work servants do is punishment, rather than being essential and honorable?"
She waved my objection away. "It should be a simple matter to couch the punishment in terms which avoid such an interpretation, my dear. Orate on the necessity of their learning to function within a community, of respecting the efforts of all its members, or something of that sort - doubtless you can write such a speech better than I."
When she put it that way, I supposed I could frame it as everyone deserving the aid of magic, including servants. In the beginning, when we had first arrived at Skyhold, I had done my share of helping out wherever it was needed, even if that meant no more than heating water for laundry or magically expelling rats from the kitchens. It was unlikely to come across as hypocrisy if I insisted others perform such tasks.
"That's a good idea," I told Vivienne, "though I will want to speak with the chatelaine to make certain she has no objections. But regardless of whether it works out precisely as you have suggested, the principle behind it is probably well worth pursuing. Ma serannas."
"I am glad to be of assistance, my dear Inquisitor," she replied graciously - and perhaps with a bit more open sincerity than she usually allowed herself. Then she hesitated. "Did you know, my dear, that when the mages rebelled, they declared any mage who refused to join in their rebellion an ally of the templars and therefore an enemy?"
"I did notice that portion of the declaration," I said. Josephine had given it to me months before, to read while I was on my way to meet Vivienne and then hire the Chargers.
"The clause was one Fiona opposed, but she did not wield final veto power and was overruled. We have spoken - a little - about the intentions behind the declaration and its real-world consequences," the Enchanter went on. "It is a small - very small - comfort to me that she foresaw precisely the problems which arose, argued vehemently against the clause, and has apologized for failing to persuade enough of the other mages to have it struck. I appreciate a woman who sees where she and those she allies herself with are in error, even if I cannot forgive the mistake."
"My understanding was that its purpose was to protect individual Circles, forcing them to choose one side or another and either organize quickly against the templars or plead with them for protection from the rebellion, without the endless rounds of debate that would usually accompany such votes," I said.
"And do you know what happened in practice?" Vivienne asked me coolly, watching the wine swirl in her cup rather than looking at me.
"I…imagine, based on the way people typically react to things, that some rebel mages took it as license to attack loyal mages," I sighed.
Her lips quirked. "Good. You may appear the ingenue, but you aren't as naive as your idealism might imply. In some towers, the rebels fell on those who had voted against rebellion as soon as the votes were read."
I nodded slowly. Of course they had. "People you cared for were murdered," I surmised.
Her eyes flickered swiftly over my face, perhaps in surprise at my use of "murder." "They were," she agreed after a moment.
"Sul'numan nar'laimasha, lethallan," I said automatically, and quickly translated: "I weep for your loss. My people believe that we should all grieve when good people are torn from the world before their time."
"A pretty sentiment, but that was not why I brought it up," she replied with a hint of acid.
"I know why you brought it up," I reassured her. "You want me to remember that mages committed horrors against mages during the rebellion - and before, too. After all, if an abomination got free in a tower, whom would it slaughter first?"
She set her glass on the table. "Think on it, my dear, as I will think on your representations of the subject."
"Of course, Vivienne," I promised. "Allow me to see you to the door."