On Politics, Fatherhood and Fratricide
I hope we win too. Said Meghren solemnly as the discussion on the raging election came to a close. Alistair seemed perplexed, while Lelianna seemed speechless. Not even Wynne had much to say. Clearly they had not recognized just how much of his personal motives were tied up in this. Harrowmont gave an understanding smile that wasn't political. He always had been a kind man, though placed in the wrong profession. He wasn't sure how good of a King Harrowmont would make, but he couldn't be worse than Bhelen.
Harrowmont began giving directions to the rooms they could sleep in and Meghren listened with keen ears. The others stood to leave the study, but Meghren remained sitting. May we discuss another matter? He asked calmly, giving only a small indication as to the importance of the matter. Harrowmont nodded and Meghren looked up at his companions. Please, leave us. No one asked questions, presumably because everyone knew the next conversation would be personal. Alistair was the last to leave but Meghren called his name. The man turned around with an awkward look on his face, like he thought he was about to be asked to stay at something he really shouldn't be involved in- a nude ball, perhaps. Make sure the others know where we're staying, will you?
Okay. He said with an exaggerated simper.But there'd better be a big wedge of brie here when I return.
Brie?
Exotic Orlessian cheese, very popular amongst the nobility.
Meghren chuckled as Harrowmont shook his head. Alistair certainly knew his cheeses. We'll see. Alistair smiled teasingly and walked out of the study, letting the door drift shut behind him. After that there was silence as Harrowmont took a seat across from Meghren at the low table they had all been conversing at not long before. He looked at him expectantly and Meghren reposed a bit in his chair. Don't suppose you have brie? He asked in a jovial manner.
No. Harrowmont said with a heavy sigh. Drink? He seemed to produce the flagon and mug full of dwarven ale from nowhere. Meghren nodded appreciatively and took the cup. Harrowmont poured himself a cup next and was about to take a drink when Meghren stopped him. A toast. He said quietly. To Trian, and to my father.
Harrowmont nodded and the two drank in silence for a time, lit mostly by a purplish fireless lamp hanging above the table from the ceiling. Behind Harrowmont's desk a small stream of lava flowed slowly beneath an immaculately carved grate, and that stream kept the room comfortably warm while lighting the far wall in a comforting orange. Books lined the shelves of the room, and upon Harrowmont's desk sat innumerable papers, most of which were presumably related to laws being warred over by the assembly. The pair were on to their second round by the time Harrowmont broke the silence. How've you been?
Meghren studied the cup in his hands, a deep and sad look in his eyes. It's been hard, but I'm alive. He thought about the way most of the city had reacted at the mere sight of his face and smiled. It's nice that someone here doesn't despise me.
Harrowmont nodded. There are others who believe you're innocent, and they're helping me dispute Bhelen's claim, but there will always be those who don't believe it. He sighed.
Did my father know? Meghren let the question hang, knowing full well that Harrowmont knew exactly what he meant. It brought him a great deal of comfort when Harrowmont nodded, it meant he had kept one of his promises at least, even if he would never see his father again. So that just left one, but this wasn't the time for that. Meghren set down his cup and Harrowmont asked if he wanted another. He paused, then nodded. He lifted the cup to his lips, but then gently set it down. I need a more personal payment for my help.
Harrowmont raised an eyebrow and Meghren quickly shook his head. Not like that, I wouldn't dream of usurping your generosity. But... He trailed off and looked at the bookcases on the wall, trying to think of how best to voice his request. In the end he decided the direct route was best. This isn't about money. There's a casteless girl, Mardy. She's the mother of my child.
He looked at Harrowmont and, seeing he was at least not openly judging, continued. Tradition dictates they be adopted into my house, but that's not possible. I want you to adopt them into House Harrowmont.
Harrowmont refilled his own mug and pulled a deep drought before replying. It won't sit well with the Deshyrs- and if I anger them before this is over, I won't be able to help you at all. It was hard to tell whether or not Harrowmont was giving more than a political answer.
Meghren leaned back and sighed. I understand. But I had to try.
Harrowmont leaned forward and looked at Meghren earnestly. After this is over, I'll be happy to help you.
Thank you. The two fell into relative silence after that. Meghren would occasionally hold out his cup for another round, but Harrowmont was careful to do little more than nurse his own. After a span of what felt like hours the room saw Meghren notably drunk, with his eyes all out of focus. As if satisfied with a particular level of inebriation, he carefully thudded his cup onto the table and reposed in his chair. I don't blame him you know. Bhelen.
Harrowmont was silent until Meghren looked at him. He killed your brother for power.
Meghren laughed. That's the world though isn't it? Anyone who wants to go anywhere follows a path paved by the bones of others. Bhelen's just trying to realize a vision the only way he knows how.
Harrowmont stowed away the flagon and reposed in his own chair. He tailored his response to indulge Meghren's musings, even though his instincts told him Bhelen only wanted power. You think he has a vision for this city?
Meghren nodded. Sure. He used to talk all the time about reforming our society. He wanted open trade with the surface, abolishment of castes. He even opted for a casteless woman over the fine ladies of Hightown. He paused for a moment then laughed halfheartedly. I suppose we both did that in our own way huh? Anyway... Bhelen has visions Harrowmont. Visions his old position would never allow, so he changed the position. I can respect that. Like I said I don't blame him. Throughout the entirety of his words his voice was rather sober, subdued even. Like it was being checked by the weight of the thoughts that may not have wanted to be spoken.
Harrowmont noted that hesitance, and it made him curious. What was more remarkable though was how free the man was being with his words, the Meghren Harrowmont knew could barely be pressed to say more than ten at a time. Oh well, drunkenness often brought a certain liberty of tongue. If you could decide Bhelen's fate, what would you do?
… At first, it seemed as if Meghren had not understood the question, or not heard it. Harrowmont didn't prompt him though, and eventually Meghren's lips parted and he gave answer, in a firm tone that meant there were no doubts behind it. I intend to kill him- I've promised myself that I'll kill him. He deserves justice... I deserve justice. For Trian... for me. Trian was a bastard but call me a blighter if I didn't love him.
Bhelen's your brother too, you don't have to be the one to kill him.
But I do. He replied definitively. He's my brother, I think he wants to do good for the city, but he's a terrible man. Anyone who, who would destroy his family for the sake of ambition- that kind of person has no soul. They don't deserve a place in this world.
Silence fell in thereafter and Harrowmont thought about the man that was sitting across from him. There was an interesting dichotomy to his character- the way his belief in the brutality of the world weighted against the way he hated people that knew how to play by that world's rules. He didn't blame the man at all for wanting to kill Bhelen, but if he did it himself- wouldn't that draw an interesting parallel to Bhelen's own actions? Where Bhelen was willing to kill his brother for power, Meghren was willing to kill his brother for revenge. Some would argue that the given circumstances made Meghren the better person, but to Harrowmont it was a distinction without a difference.
He called the dwarf's name quietly, but he had fallen asleep in his chair.