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[cozen]

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[cozen]

[ Bastien smiles wide at the nibbling, and keeps smiling because he’s having fun; this isn’t a debate that makes his blood run hot. Not so far, anyway. ]

Mmhm. So are many men across from you on the battlefield.

[bouchonne]

Yes. But those men are trying to kill me.

[ His gaze on Bastien is curious. Monitoring him to see if that smile is hiding hurt. ]

[cozen]

[ The curiosity makes his smile smaller, but only out of shyness—a tiny little dab of it—in the face of scrutiny. No sadness. ]

If we all laid down our swords and accepted their rule, [ pause for sucking another finger swiftly clean, ] I’m sure they would stop.

[bouchonne]

[ He tips his head slightly to the side. ]

Not Corypheus. Or any other true tyrants.

[cozen]

I don’t know.

[ More direct than the hedging question he might have posed to someone he was inclined to hide his own opinions with. He shifts and stretches to put his legs in Byerly’s lap. ]

Tyrants are not all sadists. I think most of them would settle down if everyone was obedient and never threatened them.

[bouchonne]

Hmm.

[ By accepts those legs and rubs them gently, massaging all the sources of tension he might find there. ]

I think part of what makes a tyrant is always needing to see a threat.

[cozen]

[ Bastien nods in a wobbly, considering way, and for a few seconds he's quiet. Some of those seconds are to think about what By's said. The others are to bask in being cared for, and in being so utterly certain that he'll still be cared for just as much even if they have found something they might not agree on. ]

You know I would still love you if you became the Empress' own bodyguard, [ he says, in case that certainty isn't mutual, as he nudges one of his slightly-achy knees into the path of By's hands. ] And I think you are probably right about tyrants.

But the king who has sent the men to kill you—maybe he is not a tyrant. Maybe he’s good to his own people and thinks yours are barbarians who need to be rescued from their backwards ways through his fatherly subjugation. [ A little eyebrow raise says he knows that's a low blow argument to make at a Fereldan, and he is sorry but not very sorry. ] Maybe he has an earnest disagreement with someone about whether or not their land is his. Whether they owe him taxes.

If all the harm in the world was only done through sadism or paranoia, there would be much less of it.

[bouchonne]

[ By flutters his eyelashes at Bastien in confirmation that he has no great fear about this conversation, and that Bastien could say just about anything without causing By the least bit of hurt. Byerly has always, after all, had the privilege of not really needing to worry about politics - has always been one of the few who would not really be affected by any decision in the Landsmeet, as neither a recipient of or a provider of tax income, as someone neither possessed of or desirous of power. He listened for the moments when malcontentment became danger; he tried to keep the queen alive; that was about the extent of his political leanings. ]

All that is true enough. [ He agrees easily. The low blow, it seems, landed soundly. ] But none of those sound like sins great enough that a man ought to lose his life. And even if they were, why does a sour-faced Nevarran lush get to appoint himself judge and executioner?

[cozen]

[ Sour-faced Nevarran lush gets a twitch of a smile, but— ]

Why does an inbred idiot who needs someone to wipe his chin— [ hypothetically; there hasn’t been one that bad in an age or two ] —get to decide a thousand men should march and die for him?

[bouchonne]

The same reason I'm head of Diplomacy. At some point, someone has to be in charge. And people love it if that someone is at least a bit inbred.

[cozen]

You are head of Diplomacy because you are good for it. [ He wiggles his knee. ] If you weren’t, and you refused to step down, someone would do something.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ That's not untrue. And if By really saw himself as incompetent, extraordinarily incompetent rather than the garden-variety incompetent he is, then there's no way he'd ever scrabble to hold onto the position.

By traces a circle around Bastien's kneecap. ]

But who's to decide who's good or not?

[cozen]

[ Lounging smugly: ] Me.

[ But he follows it quickly with a shrug. ]

No. Maybe it is impossible. Anything someone does is good for some people and bad for others. The loser of any dispute can decide the judge is unfair. I know that. So one man, alone, alright, maybe he does not have the right to kill a ruler, or anyone else.

But I think— [ an inarticulate gesture, during his pause, for the rare time he has not decided what to say before he says it ] —there is nothing inherently legitimate about it. About government. Just because it happened more slowly to the Ciriane than the Alamarri— [ never mind that he is, himself, technically Planasene ] —and we have found ourselves part of the Orlesian Empire over ages instead of overnight, if we are being crushed beneath it and decide we are done with it, I don’t think we have any less right than Ferelden to rebel.

If a lone Fereldan man had taken it upon himself to kill King Megrhen, during all of that, or Emperor Reville—you would not see him a hero now?

[bouchonne]

We would.

[ Then, he considers, and amends - not to be more accurate, but to confirm just how right Bastien is: ]

I would.

[ Well. ]

Depending, of course, upon the full history. The way they told the stories.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs a little. ]

That’s true. Maybe it would have doomed your rebellion, actually, if either of them had been replaced by someone more sane or competent.

[bouchonne]

Hah.

[ He grins. ]

May we all be blessed by incompetent enemies. - But not just that, either. For example, let's say it had been one of the Banns of Dane who'd done it. I'm sure I, a Rutyer, would have been raised to believe that so-called hero a fool.

[cozen]

Maybe raised that way, but that doesn’t mean you would have believed it, Monsieur le mouton noir.

[ Warmly. Byerly doesn’t believe all sorts of things he must have been raised to believe, and Bastien’s grateful for every one of them. ]

But hypothetically. For other people. That’s true.

[bouchonne]

[ A wry smile. ]

So maybe it is you who decides, conteur.

[cozen]

[ Another laugh, but when this one ends, he inhales and gives a more thoughtful hm as punctuation. Then he’s quiet, thinking about it. Smiling faintly. It’s a good thought; he’s taking it to heart. ]

Maybe. [ A hopeful maybe, rather than his more typical but probably not kind. ] It would be easier if more people could read. Did you hear some of the rifters’ worlds require everyone to go to school? It’s a law. If you don’t send your children you’re punished. Who could have dreamed that up?

[bouchonne]

Punishment fetishists. I assume the parents are spanked.

[ Eyebrow waggle. Then, much less facetiously - ]

They've an easier time of it, I suspect, many of these Rifters. I think there's less war in their worlds and more bounty. It's the misery of Thedas - that most children are hardscrabble farmhands at best, soldiers at worst. Few with the luxury to become scholars and courtiers. If we had more ease, though, then perhaps we'd do the same.

[cozen]

And then we would be as insufferable as they are. [ As he reaches for another piece of bread, an amendment: ] A few of them. Most are fine. Some are wonderful.

[ His hand pauses poised to put a pinch of bread into his mouth as soon as he’s finished talking. ]

Would you change anything? Say you had to do your good that way—from afar, with rules.

[bouchonne]

No one in their right minds would let me set the rules.

[ Rather practiced, that demurral. As is the follow up: ]

And I'm not really political.

[ When you are the nephew of a very influential Bann - even a no-good nephew - people are interested in your opinions. Want to know if you might be able to influence this vote or the other. Obviously, that's not Bastien, but habits are habits. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien's eyes narrow while he chews, and he lets out a long, skeptical hum. ]

That's very diplomatic of you, Ambassador.

[ He takes his legs back so he can relocate to sit next to Byerly, with his typically-lowkey self-assurance made sharper and, arguably, cooler. He brushes a stray crumb off By's knee. No subtlety in his interested gaze. All at once it's a joke, it's revenge for being answered like a stranger, it's an earnest play at squeezing something out of him. He's never met a tough nut he didn't want to crack. ]

But from what I have heard, [ from other people, clearly, as they suddenly hardly know one another, ] you are keen and clever, you are observant, compassionate but reasoned—usually. And cursed to spend so much time around both the high-born powerful and the low-born mouthy. Surely you have had one thought about it.

[bouchonne]

[ His glance at Bastien is a little sheepish, because yes, it was shitty to give the public answer when Bastien has been so forthright. It's also a little thrilled, because having Bastien try to crack him is marvelous. It makes him feel like a mystery. It makes him feel like he's a fascinating person. It's a heady feeling. ]

Well.

[ Not giving this information up too easily. ]

I come from a famously conservative line.

[cozen]

And you were famously disowned by them.

[ He is a fascinating person. Bastien's interested search of his face isn't an act. The act is sitting so close, a little in his space, without taking his hand or leaning in his shoulder. Leaving room for tension. ]

But not for your politics. That would have been during King Cailan's reign, no? Maric's? No wars, no famines—there cannot much for a young nobleman to be political about.