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[cozen]

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[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.

[bouchonne]

The elf question. The mage question. The Orlesian question. That last one was put to me the most, back at the time. [ A faint smile. ] But...Abstract questions, for the most part. Better for salons than for pamphlets in the streets.

[cozen]

Ahh. Of course. What does the half-Orlesian have to say about Orlais—that must have been tiresome.

Were you this restrained as a boy? Knobby-kneed and lustful and, [ with a slightly less mangled imitation of By’s accent than when he goofily failing to put in any effort, and a perfect imitation of his tone, ] not really political?

[bouchonne]

[ By's smile broadens. Accurately perceived, Bastien. ]

Politics is too complicated. When you start talking about politics, people start hating you or liking you for reasons out of your control.

[ And By's game has always been carefully controlling people's fondness for or hatred of him. Cultivating feeling with care. ]

Not that the knobby-kneed pervert was cognizant of why the subject made him uncomfortable. He thought of himself as simply ignorant.

[cozen]

It's funny, what we do without understanding why.

[ It comes out quieter than before, his expression changing by a fraction of a degree into a gentler interest. Not intentionally. It's a flood of care, seeping through the unguarded corners of his face as he's reminded of little By being unable to do anything to control his father's irrational hatred or the sudden withdrawal of his mother's love.

Bastien pauses his little game long enough to pull Byerly's hand up to his mouth, to kiss his knuckles.

Then it's back on. ]

You grew out of that quickly, I hope—thinking you were ignorant. But before long you were a spy who needed everyone to think you had no thoughts in your head, so they might try to fill it for you.

[bouchonne]

To be fair -

[ And this is half playing the game, but also half truthful - ]

I am ignorant. Every noble is.

[ That softness, that little kiss, those kind eyes, get a little caress, a touch of his hand to Bastien's thigh. He doesn't entirely know what brought it about, but he's grateful for it nevertheless. No one looks on him as charitably as Bastien looks on him - and it's nice, isn't it, to have someone who sees only the best in you. ]

[cozen]

Every person is, [ Bastien proposes, twisting further sideways to put his folded elbow on the back of the sofa behind him, ] about something.

[ A prompt more than a statement. Patient. ]

[bouchonne]

[ A yes-but-no sort of hum. ]

Nobles more than most. We don't know what it means to plant or sow, or to make things, or to truly rely on nothing save your own determination. A noble can never understand the plight of the truly impoverished, because he always has the coin of his name to barter with.