Garrett didn't stand at the front.
It was unfamiliar for him, not leading from the front, uncomfortable.
Yet it was required this time, required but heart-rending.
Instead, Donnic was the one at the front, the man dressed in sombre black like everyone else. The man's shoulders stiff, his back straight and proud...and everything about him screaming agony.
Garrett could not blame him, the death of Aveline had been unexpected, horrible, and devastated most of them.
So now they stood in the Kirkwall Chantry. To hold a funeral in the large structure had required a few owed favours and even the odd bribe...but Aveline was worth it.
Still can't believe she's gone.
The Chantry was beautiful and vast, the high-arching ceiling covered in amazing murals and painted windows that would usually have let in a rainbow of colours, but now remained dark, like leering creatures hiding in the alcoves above. Instead, burning censers and lamps cast a warm glow across the building, the former also filling it with a pleasant smell of something sweet. Neither the lovely smell or the warm light could chase away the aura of depression in the grand cathedral though, nor could the hymns of dozens of priests softly singing from a distance.
Garrett's mind, though dark, was grateful for all who'd come, who'd dropped everything at the unexpected news and arrived to show their respect.
The large doors at the back were closed, the red carpet leading up the central aisle flanked by dozens upon wooden benches for the worshippers. Right now though, with the ceremony almost over, they all stood, every last one in the chantry...but one.
Garrett didn't need to look back, but did, offering a pale smile to all who'd come, a smile coming out of duty more than happiness, but a smile none the less.
Every noble of Kirkwall was there, along with spouses and children. The cynical part of Garrett knew most were simply there to curry favour with him, or at least not insult him, rather than any special care for the captain of the Guard. But considering the number of troubled faces, there was also a large minority clearly grieving the loss of the capable Captain.
A loss, yes, too great a loss.
The thought felt dull in Garrett's mind, dutiful rather than pained...it all felt so surreal. He'd spoken with her so recently, there had been no warning, no last nice words to hold onto...just some pointless words about wages and new hirings of guards.
On the front benches, put there on Garrett's insistence, despite the many nobles there, were the officers of the Guard, all but a single one who'd lost the lot and had to stay back to keep the city in order. All were dressed in black uniforms that looked like they'd never been worn before. The guard doesn't often stop to grieve a lost comrade, there's no time, but this one...
Then, closer still, her friends.
Fenris, not overly grieving, but grim, glaring at the dead Captain as if she'd done something wrong.
Varric, the dwarf's coat pulled tight around him for once, as if he was cold. The man had his hands hidden in his pockets, though they were clearly outlined in them, bunched into fists as he stared at the floor, heavy-set jaw held shut and eyes wet.
Maric, at Garrett's feet, lying down, head bowed and silent.
Anders, the mage's black cloak fitting well among the others without a change, looking like a brooding crow as his pale gaze alternated between Aveline and Donnic. The mage looked...angry, angry and sad. He did offer a Garrett a look though, offering a pale smile of reassurance. Thank you. Garrett offered a nod back, gaze sweeping on.
Isabela, so different from before. Her white tunic exchanged for a black dress covering her from toe to neck, she even wore a black scarf around her hair, all jewellery gone. The stark change made her look...smaller. She hadn't forgotten her make up though...but perhaps she should have, Garrett grimaced in sympathy at the black tendrils trailing their way down the woman's face as she, weeping, stared at the fallen captain with a mixture of guilt and heart-wrenching grief.
And of course, next to him, Merrill. The elf's normally happy face was gone, no questions bubbled out of her, no words, not even tears. Instead she stood there in a black dress that made her look like Andraste herself, her small hand in his, as she stared at their friend. She looked up at his stare though, offering a sliver of a smile as she squeezed his hand, making him squeeze back. It was painful seeing her, the memories of a time not too long ago still etched in his mind and soul...yet at the same time, she was like a piece of debris in a swift-moving flood, all he could clutch onto, more precious to him than anything in the world.
A world without Aveline.
The thought finally did it. Swallowing, Garrett found a tear prickling his cheek, then another one as he turned to look back at who they'd come to honour. Next to him, Merrill was squeezing his hand tighter as she heard him stifle a sniffle, but he barely felt it as he looked ahead.
The casket atop the stone pedestal was nothing special, simple wood that had been polished to a shine, but hardly something fancy...Garrett had agreed with Donnic that she'd have it no other way for something that would be burnt. All the pomp and many grievers around it...she wouldn't have liked that either, but then again, it wasn't for her. Did you find yourself at the Maker's side? With Wesley and waiting for Donnic? Or did you just find peace?
There was no answer to find in Aveline's face.
Paler than usual, the woman otherwise looked her normal self. Dressed in the old plate armour she preferred to use on patrol and combat, she looked ready to rise and fight at any moment. Her gauntleted hands clutched the grip of her sword as a shield bearing the Kirkwall city guard's heraldry, worn and torn from many an impact, lay placed atop it. It made her look like an ancient warrior-queen's tombstone.
It seemed wrong to think her fallen the way she had, killed by some assassin, probably without even a fight, without a chance to defend herself.
It all felt wrong.
Yet there they stood.
Before the casket, Donnic finally turned, his pristine black uniform marked at the shoulder by a white stripe, the stripe of the new captain, something Garrett knew the man loathed...but the guard had picked him, there was no going back. I...should speak with him when this is over... Garrett brushed the thought aside, politics could wait, for Aveline's sake.
Donnic, chin held high, pulled a paper from his pocket, staring straight ahead as the hymns filling the chamber slowly ebbed out.
His words, meant to be spoken with a hard voice, immediately stuttered. "O-our beloved Ca-Captain is...g-gone." A deep breath, the man's eyes darting down to the paper, blinking furiously as the paper bent, a tear having struck the corner. "Sh-she wa-was an in...inspiration to us all, an e-example to...to look u-up to and to ch-che..." The man's head dropped, a despairing sniffle escaping him as the audience looked on in painful silence. His voice was but a whisper, inaudible for all but those in the front. "Cherished."
In the great chantry, one could have heard a pin drop.
Dropping the paper, unable to finish the speech, the crying man raised his head, voice pained gasp. "Who will help me carry her?"
The pyre for Aveline had been set up far away, down in Lowtown's market where the old Captain had spent so much of her days doing justice, and the woman in armour would be heavy...yet there was no problem finding volunteers.
Garrett, having stepped forward automatically, moved towards the chest, barely aware of the others.
Isabela, still silently weeping.
Merrill, still squeezing his hand, pain written all over her face.
Varric, hands finally out of his pockets, head still downcast, unable to look at the woman he was there to honour.
Anders, scar-ridden face full of sympathy, always ready to help.
Moving to flank the chest, three on the left and three on the right, they helped Donnic raise the chest up onto their shoulders from its pedestal as the hymns once more filled the chamber.
Slowly, carefully, the group began to move down the aisle towards the doors ahead, letting all they passed get a glimpse of the woman before she would be turned to ash.
As they walked, Anders', just behind Garrett, muttered in anger. "No Templar coming to honour the beloved Captain?"
"Cullen wanted to come, but I told him it might be...imprudent." Garrett replied with a frown, he didn't want to think about the whole mess surrounding Aveline's death. Garrett didn't know how, but the nature of the weapon found in the Captain's body had escaped to the public and people already upset with the templars had another reason to get angry with them. There had even been a few riots and two dead templars as a result.
"I guess, the killer coming to the victim's funeral would be imprudent." Anders fumed back, making Garrett grimace. It's just...underhanded and disgusting...but...Meredith? Sending assassins? He couldn't see it.
Donnic seemed to have the same idea, his sigh full of grief, yet also tired. "Templar knives are forged by the thousands, it doesn't mean it was a templar. Plenty had motive to kill her..." He took a slow breath, obviously struggling with the weight of his grief. "I will find who did this though, and I will..." Another long breath, a sniffle following as the man forced himself to continue. "...bring them to justice, as she would have wanted."
Ahead, the double doors were opening, revealing a dark and cloudy sky promising rain in but a few hours. Meanwhile, Isabela's voice was a pained whisper. "If I find them first, there will also be justice, but of a different kind..."
Reaching the doorway, and therefore the top of the stairs leading down to the large plaza before the Chantry, Garrett found himself rendered breathless, despite having expected something like it.
The Guard was out in strength, two long lines of men and women clad in worn and dented armour polished to a mirror shine, facing inwards at the corridor they'd opened for their Captain and those carrying her. The moment the coffin began to descend the stairs, someone shouted out an order. "Present arms!" As one, the guards drew their blades and held them high, forming a ceiling of protecting swords to shield their Captain on her last trip to Lowtown.
And outside that guard-created corridor a mass of dark-clothed commoners stood. Many might have had reason to curse the Captain, but they often had more reason to praise her and remember her fondly as a protector and bringer of lawfulness into a city of crime. Most stared at the dead woman with genuine sorrow at the loss of her...and equally many, with anger.
It was heart-warming and terrifying in the same time.
And behind Garrett, Anders' voice was but a whisper. "As long as Justice is served..."
Feeling the weight of the casket bear down on him, Garrett nodded. Agreed.
8
8
8
Garrett looked good, and he knew it.
There was no doubt he was idolized among the people, between the Arishok, his work on the city afterwards and the High Dragon, there were a lot who even called him their 'white knight', or so Varric said.
Garrett, knowing just what a vital tool that was in putting Meredith in a difficult position, had capitalized on it. The horse he rode was white, its coat shining with health. His armour, from helmet to boots, was glowing white, the dragonbone from the creature he'd slain just recently finished by a master smith so eager to work the material he'd barely charged for the work. It looked more like metal than bone after all the work put into it, and polished to a shine, it made him feel invulnerable.
Aveline seemed invulnerable too.
It was a sobering thought, and one drawing his mind back to his dead friend, turning his face into a grim mask.
His look was not enough to deter the people he rode past though, everywhere commoners stopped and stared, most even bowing their heads or even kneeling.
A Viscount in all but name.
Garrett drew strength from that. Aveline might be dead, his companions grieving, him grieving...but he had a duty too, a goal...and nothing would stand in his way.
That drove him on, made him throw aside the grief in exchange for a sharp focus on the task at hand.
Ahead, the Templar Keep rose high, a towering monster of rock and mortar, surrounded by a thick and tall wall, a fortress within the city, the strongest in all of the Free Marches, some said. Most expensive too, I'd wager.
The bronze gate covered in runes of silverite ahead was opening at the approach of the lone rider, albeit reluctantly. The templars flanking the great gate, though standing straight and proper, eyed the man warily...there was not a few templars blaming the man for their bad reputation in the city and the treatment they therefore received from the locals.
Garrett, conscious of the many commoners staring at the scene, held his head high, ignoring the templar guards as he unhurriedly and unafraid rode through the gate, his red cloak billowing after him like a banner. Behind him, a ragged cheer rose, making him smirk. They think me their protector, right now it's them protecting me, it feels like...and Meredith is the one that's afraid...
The courtyard of the Templar Keep was large and open, a large stone stable built next to the wall on the right. To the left, a good hundred templars stood at attention in orderly lines, spears and shields resting by their feet as every detail in their equipment glinted with polish, their face-hiding helmets staring straight ahead.
Garrett, not even glancing at the show of force, dismounted, casually tossing the reins to one of the two templars approaching him, causing the man to blink in surprise. "Take care of him, I'll be back later." Ignoring the man's scathing look, Garrett brushed past, offering a hand to the next templar that was approaching. "Cullen! Good to see you."
"And you, Serah Hawke." The man replied with a careful smile, momentarily clasping Garrett's forearm as he shot the other templar now heading for the stables a look. "Shall we perhaps be off right away? The others are already here." As Garrett nodded in agreement and the two started to move at the Keep proper, the man lowered his voice a bit. "That was the master of horse, by the way...he was going to help me lead you to Meredith."
I know, Anders knows most templars and what they do by now, he also happens to be a vehement ally of Meredith's and one with big ears and a bigger mouth. Garrett smiled. "Well if he's the master of horse, I'm sure he can find the stables. Besides, I'm sure you are capable of leading me on your own, and I always appreciate a more private chat."
"Indeed." Cullen carefully inclined his head at the carefully chosen words, the intelligent man clearly a little wary of the noble walking next to him. Before them, the gate to the Keep itself was opening, a pair of female templars carrying halberds eyeing the oblivious Cullen even as he glanced down at Garrett's hip. "That is quite a beautiful weapon, Serah Hawke. Forged from the dragon's bones like the armour?"
"Indeed." Garrett patted the longsword with a smile. As with the armour, it was a pale white, intricate runes of silver and lyrium mixed into its hilt and blade, making it look even more pure and in keeping with his 'white knight' impression.
He had enjoyed giving Meredith her larger sword, a blade as black as midnight. A simple mental trick on the masses, but one that seemed to work...besides, making her accept such a gift from who she considered an enemy was all too much fun, and a good way of showing just who was the protector of the city.
To Meredith's credit, the inside of the Templars' Keep was not a shameless show of luxury, there were no unnecessary expenditures of vanity while she ran the templars, just long halls with doors leading to various rooms with all manner of duties required of the templars to run their order. Just a lot of expenditures she deems necessary...necessary enough to take from others to pay for it. As always, the thought of how much wealth the Knight-Commander had squeezed from the city made Garrett grimace in anger. He kept his tone light though. "I guess, when you say others, that everyone's there?
"If you worry about First Enchanter Orsino not being present, you don't have to worry, he is." Cullen reported, smiling. "I assure you, Serah, it's all been arranged as you requested."
Garrett smiled at the man. "No doubt much thanks to you."
Cullen barely inclined his head, not about to answer such a question, even though it was fairly obvious...the man was one of the few understanding the value of diplomacy and moderation in the order, if not the entire city.
A valuable man... "I must thank you, Cullen, you are most helpful, both to me and to your order. I hope, with that in mind, that you won't think me presumptuous in calling you a friend?" Garrett carefully eyed the man.
To his disappointment, the pale smile of the man was polite, but evasive. "Of course, Serah, I'd like that. But, of course, my duty to the order comes first, always."
Well, that's something. Garrett nodded. "A man of principle, I like that, thank you." A slow breath escaped him, his eyes scanning the surroundings but finding nothing but the odd templar glaring at him, Garrett returned his attention to Cullen. "I too, am a man of principle...which I guess is why we're having this meeting, mine and Meredith's principles have a tendency to...cross, I suppose?"
Cullen chuckled at the understatement, but his reply was measured. "I wouldn't say that. It's more how one goes about living up to those principles that causes this...friction. I'm confident that with a little talk and some way of compromising in how we go about living up to our expectations of our respective duties, things will become much clearer. "
"That makes two of us then." Garrett, sensing they were almost there, hurriedly added. "And, I hope, more?"
Turning and gripping the handle to a door, Cullen managed an awkward smile. "I've prayed for it, Serah...and I think there might."
With that, he opened the door and let Garrett in before he himself followed.
The room was smaller than anticipated, dominated by a long table bereft of all but a single pitcher of tin and a couple of glasses. The walls were mostly barren, the odd banner of the Templar Order hanging limply here and there.
On the right long side of the table, Orsino sat, sipping from his glass full of a red wine, eyes warily watching Meredith sitting just opposite him.
The woman, all hard edges, wore her armour for some reason. Garrett had worn his for the benefit of the people, but Meredith had no reason for hers, nor for the black weapon on her back, making Garrett arch an eyebrow at the woman as she coolly looked over his white-armoured shape.
On her right side, closer to Garrett, Carver sat, he too in armour, the classical templar armour polished to a shine and decorated with a purple cloak with a golden trim.
As Cullen moved over to Meredith's left side, the woman rose, making Orsino do the same.
Carver remained sitting, dull red eyes looking at Garrett. Brother...have you been drinking? Keeping the admonishment from slipping past his lips, Garrett moved to Orsino's left side and held out his hand, forcing himself to focus on the woman across the table. "Knight-Commander, a pleasure."
Meredith took the hand, shaking it firmly. "Champion." A pause, the woman shooting the nodding Cullen a look. "I'm...glad to have you here."
"Thank you, Meredith." Garrett managed a smile and sat down along the others. "And First Enchanter, I'm glad you could come."
"Me too." The elf grinned at Garrett, then shot Meredith a scowl. "I must admit I was surprised to be offered an invitation, mages are otherwise not allowed inside this place..."
"Precautions were taken." Meredith replied, not taking her eyes off Garrett even as she tapped her armour, making the runes hidden in the black plates glitter blue. "I myself am also surprised though, I half expected you to bring that friend of yours? The Apostate known as Anders?"
"Hmmm?" Garrett smiled, not about to get into throwing verbal barbs and cause hostilities right away. "You mean that Warden? Well I'm sure he would have loved to attend, but I don't rightly know where he is at the moment." Shame I can't ask Aveline to track him down, huh? Garrett almost said it, almost sent in the jab to see how Meredith would react, almost ruined everything.
He didn't though, knowing it was pointless to start a fight over something there was no real proof of one way or the other.
Plus, his goal was to make a deal, not break it, and though Aveline deserved justice, Garrett deserved a throne.
"I'm sure you don't." Meredith's smile was cool. "Nor your wife? I hear she's a lovely girl, I would have loved speaking to her. Especially after she so famously helped you defeat a dragon?"
Garrett smiled, his hands, hidden in his lap, closing into fists at the idea of what kind of 'speaking' Meredith might have had in mind. "She's very tired, I'm afraid." She was, actually, the fight with the dragon had taken a lot out of her, and Garrett couldn't help but feel a little worried about her. It was as if she'd lost something in that fight. "Speaking of the dragon, I'm guessing you enjoy your sword?"
Meredith, being far worse than him at concealing her feelings, openly grimaced, glancing up at the black hilt of the weapon sticking up over her shoulder. "It is...a kingly gift, Serah, thank you. It'll do much good in the order."
Realising he had just thrown out a barb he had promised himself not to, the implied threat to Merrill having been enough, Garrett quickly changed the subject. "Oh I'm sure it will, there's few I've met who are as diligent in their work as you, Commander, or who takes such a hands on approach to your duties. I respect that." It wasn't a lie, though Garrett had preferred it if the woman had been a little less diligent in those areas she had no business being in.
"As I do you, Champion." Meredith admitted, leaning forward, cool eyes seeking his, measuring him as one would a foe in a duel. "I doubt there's anyone as capable as you in the city, or as...powerful." The unspoken 'dangerous' hung in the air, making the air tenser.
"Could we perhaps get down to business?" Carver snarled, the templar's gaze never having left Garrett's, flashing in anger.
"Brother, please." Garrett deigned to throw the man an irritated look, which only made him glare at him even more as Garrett turned his gaze back to Meredith. "Though I suppose he has a point...we are both busy people, are we not, Knight-Commander."
"Indeed." The woman nodded, then paused, considering her words. "I guess, given how you requested this meeting...that you tell me first what you want?"
"You are fully aware of what I want." His fingers interlocked, chin resting on them as he placed his elbows on the table, Garrett leant forward, eyes calm. "I want you to put this templar-rule to an end, allow the election of a Viscount to be held-" At that, Carver snorted, there was no doubt in anyone's mind how such an election would end. Garrett, however, ignored the man. "And let the city be run as it should be, by an administration dedicated to the management of the city, rather than the hunt for apostates and the like."
"As always, yes, those are your demands." Meredith shook her head. "But the corruption at the hands of mages run deep among the...nobility." Again, there was an unspoken word, 'you'. "As such, it would be negligent of me to surrender the management of the city to the secular powers."
"Let me be frank, with me as a Viscount, there will be no worrying about corruption among the nobility." Emptiness, calm...nothing. Garrett's eyes flashed white with templar-power, eyes twinkling in amusement at the way the other men in the room pulled back in surprise. "I can rule this city, I am ruling this city, for years now, I've done it through improvisation...all I want is for you to recognise my rule and you'll have one less headache to deal with and can focus all your powers on what you truly should be doing."
Having recovered from his shock, Carver's voice was if anything even more bitter now that he realised what hidden power Garrett wielded. "What we truly should be doing? You sure you want that?"
Garrett refused to react to the words and held Meredith's gaze, watching her appraise him with curiosity. When she spoke, it was slowly and guardedly. "While interesting, templar powers do not make one immune to magic, hence why no mage is allowed inside this Keep. Still..." A hum escaped the woman. Maker, she's actually considering it...! Garrett glanced at Cullen, finding the man looking pleased at the turn of events.
As careful as her, Garrett replied. "I'm glad then, that you admire my capabilities and judgement, too. Mixed with templar powers, I must say I might be the most incorruptible secular leader you might get, maybe even one that could be of use to you...? I hear the people of Kirkwall are quite hostile, after all, that has to make your hunt for these rogue apostates more difficult..."
To the side, Carver growled something, but in Meredith's eyes, there was a light of interest. By Andraste, I'm making progress, finally, progress! She slowly nodded. "I will have to...consider this, yes."
"Thank you." Garrett smiled, though he let it die quickly. "Just don't do it for too long, I've waited a long time for this." Meredith's eyes flashed with hostility, but Garrett returned a grim look, not about to be intimidated. I bloody have...
"As I said, I'll consider it, and decide when I'm ready to do so."Garrett scowled in disapproval at that, but Meredith turned her gaze, changing topic. "Now, with that out of the way, why did you bring Orsino here...I can understand your argumentation for reinstating a Viscount, about the law and how the secular part is not mine to rule. But surely you would not be so arrogant as to tell us templars how to work with mages...not right after arguing that we have no right to rule the secular world."
Garrett struggled not to grimace at the words hitting their mark so well, but answered none the less, prepared for such arguments. "I would never presume to tell you how to run the Circle or how to deal with mages, Knight-Commander." He hesitated, sensing Orsino tensing next to him. "I do, however, feel I can suggest some things...if you'd let me?"
Meredith and Carver both snorted at the words, but the former at least nodded, albeit with her arms crossed over her chest.
"There are issues with the Circle, I know that because Orsino has told me of them, and I know he's told you of them...publicly at times, even." Garrett, sensing Carver about to interrupt, continued quickly. "What I see is a failure to see the broader picture. As one leader to another, I feel compelled to advise you on certain matters in this. For one, mages are not apostates and circle mages and only that. As with my own workers, they are husbands and wives, daughters and sons, friends...whether apostate or Circle mage, they know people on the outside and are loved by them." A deep breath, Garrett steadying himself. "As such, I'd advise you that beating or torturing them for information on other apostates, or making them tranquil for many offenses, is a bad idea. These people are not in a void and there are consequences in treating them as such."
"Oh do go on, we poor templars don't know how to run a Circle, after all, only done it for a few years, surely..." Carver sneered, though Meredith remained silent, her mouth hidden behind clasped hands as she frowned at the man before her.
Ignoring the sarcasm, Garrett went on. "What I'm saying is that each person made tranquil, each heavy punishment, every person returning to his dormitory with scars...is another reason for those who know them and live outside the Circle to hate you, and for those within to want to escape." He shrugged. "A more lenient hand can often do better, I feel, one catches more flies with honey, as they say."
"Oh sure, because making the Circle pleasant will make them all want to stay and for apostates to form a line outside..." Carver grunted, shaking his head.
"Almost." Garrett shot the man a patient look, forcing himself not to react to his brother's petulant attitude. "Mages wanting to leave the Circle do so because they don't like it...if you make it more pleasant, a nice place...less will want to leave." He looked back to Meredith. "As for apostates...you know what lives many of them live. Dirty, on the run, hated by many they meet, always in danger, afraid. If one offers them not a blade or a whip, but a warm meal, a soft bed and a good teacher...well..."
Meredith finally spoke. "Are you done?"
Garrett hesitated, throwing Orsino a look, making the First Enchanter finally speak up. "He's quite right, Meredith. Mages are not your enemy, and making them so only causes more trouble than it helps."
"Right." Meredith dropped her arms, revealing a thin line for a mouth. "Then I'll tell you now; mages are not to be coddled, nor can we let our guard down by being soft and kind to them." Garrett felt his heart sink even as Orsino sighed in despair. "The Circle is not just there as a place of learning, it's for containment, for making the mages strong enough to fight the demons in the fade, we templars are not harsh upon them simply because of what they are, there's a purpose behind it, to make them strong."
"One does not need to beat a child to make him a strong man." Garrett replied. "Nor does a mage get strong by being abused, they get strong by their education, the abuse is pointless."
"In fact, it might even make them consider what to use that strength for down the line." Orsino filled in with a growl.
Meredith's eyes widened at the words, more in rage than fear. "Are you threatening me, mage?"
"I'm educating you."
Suddenly leaning forward, Cullen spoke up, smile desperate and words quick. "Now, now, I'm sure there are strengths for both ways of handling the Circle. Perhaps we templars can be overly zealous, yes, but in the same vein, one cannot get away from the dangers that an unsupervised mage entails."
"Indeed." Garrett nodded, glad to have something in the middle to grasp on to. "And as a secular leader, I hate to see this conflict between mages and templars spill onto my streets...hence my suggestions. I want harmony and peace as much as you people, if not more, considering how I end up in the crossfire."
Suddenly rising, Meredith glared down at Orsino, then fixed Garrett with a more neutral, if somewhat forced, diplomatic look. "As I said...I'll take your words on the Viscounts seat and secular autonomy under close consideration, they are...interesting to say the least." then she shot Orsino another hostile look. "As for the other part...I'll try not to hold it against your first case, but I'm not convinced." As Cullen rose, the Knight-Commander shot him a glance and sighed. "Though I'll...consider it, yes, your words are that worthy, at least."
Shooting the fuming Orsino a glance, Garrett struggled not to continue arguing, mages and their rights lay close to his heart after all, but in the end, what he was close to getting was too good to be true. Take what you get, take up the next fight later down the line. "Thank you, Meredith, I'm glad we had this talk." Ignoring Orsino's glare, Garrett too rose to his feet, offering his hand. "It gives me hope for the future."
Meredith took the offered hand, managing what actually looked like a genuine smile. "Me too, Champion, me too."
Meanwhile, Carver and Orsino remained seated, glaring at Garrett.
8
8
8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for being such a Goonie.