[It was telling, Gaius knew. And the accusation that followed... He doesn't confirm, or deny, or anything, really. Not when the man continues to speak, with a fury that fair outmatches even the bitterness that still lingers.]
[And he should leave it at that, rather than provoke a fight he can't currently win, but-]
If you truly believe there would have been no corpses without our involvement then you are a fool. [Bitter and brittle, though...not so scathing as it should be, perhaps. Angry, and tired, and the guilt...]
Do you truly think that the man you called a king would have stopped at merely massacring his court? Or that those who attempted to overthrow him wouldn't have then sought out his supporters in turn?
You were on the brink of a civil war and I did what was necessary to give your nation back some semblance of order. Of peace.
[He gave it away, then and there. I did what was necessary.
His hand flew to the hilt of his rapier, though there was no accompanying whine of steel. The weapon stayed, though it seemed it involved some force on his part in order to do as much. Something stayed his hand here, even as the mage's piercing stare bored straight through the man before him.]
'Tis true, King Theodoric was too far gone to be saved, his cruelty and the suffering he caused a thing of nightmares.
But, t'would be far easier to oust a single mad king and deal with his scattered armies and limited followers, than it would be to eke out a pitiful existence in a land stripped of it's resources, deprived of it's laborers sent as conscripts and struggling to pay tithe to corrupted former countrymen more concerned with settling petty scores and flaunting their newfound power than protecting those who can no longer protect themselves!
T'would be far easier to build again a government from scratch, when the light of life and hope still shown in the eyes of my countrymen! Now so long ground down beneath the heel of an uncaring, distant emperor and his vast and endless armies that so many no longer even have the strength to look me in the eye anymore, let alone raise even their voice against their tormentors!
'Tis not peace you brought, but death, Gaius van Baelsar, ceaseless, endless, continuous death, and every day do they die just a little more!
[Every word another twist of the knife. Every word recounting his mistakes, his failures, that he'd been once either too blind or too proud to see, and that more than just stings now. Because he'd done he what had to. He only did what was necessary.]
[It's so much harder to maintain that conviction, though, the longer he's away from his home and his people.]
[When the man finally spits his name like a curse, Gaius is...quiet, as the last of his meager defenses die on his tongue. The tension coiled so tightly through him seems to bleed out, slowly, though pale eyes don't flinch away from the gaze that the mage burns right into him, and his voice is barely audible when he answers.]
I know.
[It's a calculated risk, really. To shift his grip on Heirsbane, just for a moment.]
[And then to throw the weapon, still sheathed, at the feet of the other man where he sits. Because he wants his intent to be clear: he meant what he said earlier. He doesn't want to fight. At all.]
[And if there's any truth to the supposed honor of the knights of the Red...]
And what will you do? Here I am. Alone, unarmed. In no condition to fight back, though I will if I must.
No doubt many would do much and more to be where you are, right now.
[He'd expected a fight. Even now, presented with what for all the world someone who looked like an injured and tired old man, just knowing who he was primed him for a fight. For after all, it was Gaius van Baelsar, the Black Wolf himself, why would a few injuries slow him down? Why would being on an entirely different star mean anything to him? The monster the miqo'te had concocted in his mind of the Garlean didn't care of the location nor of his wounds, surely he only existed to sow disorder and devastation.
And so to instead see the weapon, still housed within its sheath, tossed at his feet in an open display of surrender, to hear the other man admit his faults... It clashed, completely flew in the face of the assumption that the older man was nothing but a monster. Denied that... but fit in perfectly with the portrait he'd painted of him before, when his identity was still a mystery. Of a father searching for his daughter, injured and alone.
He wanted so badly to hold onto his conviction, and his grip tightened on the rapier to the point where the more delicate parts of the hilt groaned under his fingers, his teeth threatening to pierce his tongue.
... He couldn't. The moment the fight left him was visible as his shoulders sagged and the fire in his eyes dimmed. Disappointed, at what he couldn't think of at the moment, the feeling just sank into him quite suddenly. He couldn't... Not after the help he'd rendered, not after hearing even a fragment of his story. The idea of orphaning a child, orphaning her twice over...]
... And they'd think me a soft old fool as well. [The words were bitter, and he lightly kicked the gunblade back towards the older man.]
I don't draw my blade against fallen foes. ... No matter who they are.
[So the tales of the Duelist's chivalry were accurate after all.]
[And despite the confidence in staking his own life on that hope... Gaius releases a slow breath, unaware he'd even been holding it, as the other man kicks Heirsbane back to him, though the tension doesn't abate entirely until his answer confirms it. It's as if a plug was pulled, the way the adrenaline drains from him so quickly, because had the man truly wished to kill him...]
That makes you a better man than most.
[Nothing mocking. Not a slight, or a jest. While the wounds made deeper by the man's words are still so raw, not even bitter anger is left, replaced with only aching exhaustion as he once more turns away from the man, grabbing the discarded gunblade and slowly pulling the weapon across his lap. And there's a silent prayer to an old friend, then, apologizing for mistreating his gift in such a way.]
And General Aldynn would no doubt appreciate you leaving him enough of me to still place on trial, when we can finally return home. [When. Because it has to be when, he has to get back to Allie and he has to make things right.]
...for what little it may be worth, I am sorry for your losses. All of them.
[They were accurate, those who would still call themselves a Duelist followed that code, no matter how much they might wish to break it. And oh, how he wished now that he were a less honorable man. How he wished for just a moment, just a fleeting, short lived, shameful moment, that he could be as callous and as selfish as Lambard was.
But the stain it'd leave on his soul, how he'd be haunted by it if he were to draw his rapier now... It wasn't worth sacrificing that honor for. Nothing ever would be. Gaius's exhaustion would be mirrored back at him on the mage's own face, all that bitterness equally drained out, replaced now with empty, hollow resignation.
... Even hearing of the promise of a trial did nothing to alleviate it.]
I'm sure he would. His passion for Ala Mhigo may run even deeper than my own... [Were that he could be as brutal as the Bull.]
... Your apologies will not return my comrades to me, Baelsar.
[And indeed, the other man may very knew well of which ones precisely he spoke of, with the veneration that hung in the word.]
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no subject
[And he should leave it at that, rather than provoke a fight he can't currently win, but-]
If you truly believe there would have been no corpses without our involvement then you are a fool. [Bitter and brittle, though...not so scathing as it should be, perhaps. Angry, and tired, and the guilt...]
Do you truly think that the man you called a king would have stopped at merely massacring his court? Or that those who attempted to overthrow him wouldn't have then sought out his supporters in turn?
You were on the brink of a civil war and I did what was necessary to give your nation back some semblance of order. Of peace.
no subject
His hand flew to the hilt of his rapier, though there was no accompanying whine of steel. The weapon stayed, though it seemed it involved some force on his part in order to do as much. Something stayed his hand here, even as the mage's piercing stare bored straight through the man before him.]
'Tis true, King Theodoric was too far gone to be saved, his cruelty and the suffering he caused a thing of nightmares.
But, t'would be far easier to oust a single mad king and deal with his scattered armies and limited followers, than it would be to eke out a pitiful existence in a land stripped of it's resources, deprived of it's laborers sent as conscripts and struggling to pay tithe to corrupted former countrymen more concerned with settling petty scores and flaunting their newfound power than protecting those who can no longer protect themselves!
T'would be far easier to build again a government from scratch, when the light of life and hope still shown in the eyes of my countrymen! Now so long ground down beneath the heel of an uncaring, distant emperor and his vast and endless armies that so many no longer even have the strength to look me in the eye anymore, let alone raise even their voice against their tormentors!
'Tis not peace you brought, but death, Gaius van Baelsar, ceaseless, endless, continuous death, and every day do they die just a little more!
no subject
[It's so much harder to maintain that conviction, though, the longer he's away from his home and his people.]
[When the man finally spits his name like a curse, Gaius is...quiet, as the last of his meager defenses die on his tongue. The tension coiled so tightly through him seems to bleed out, slowly, though pale eyes don't flinch away from the gaze that the mage burns right into him, and his voice is barely audible when he answers.]
I know.
[It's a calculated risk, really. To shift his grip on Heirsbane, just for a moment.]
[And then to throw the weapon, still sheathed, at the feet of the other man where he sits. Because he wants his intent to be clear: he meant what he said earlier. He doesn't want to fight. At all.]
[And if there's any truth to the supposed honor of the knights of the Red...]
And what will you do? Here I am. Alone, unarmed. In no condition to fight back, though I will if I must.
No doubt many would do much and more to be where you are, right now.
no subject
And so to instead see the weapon, still housed within its sheath, tossed at his feet in an open display of surrender, to hear the other man admit his faults... It clashed, completely flew in the face of the assumption that the older man was nothing but a monster. Denied that... but fit in perfectly with the portrait he'd painted of him before, when his identity was still a mystery. Of a father searching for his daughter, injured and alone.
He wanted so badly to hold onto his conviction, and his grip tightened on the rapier to the point where the more delicate parts of the hilt groaned under his fingers, his teeth threatening to pierce his tongue.
... He couldn't. The moment the fight left him was visible as his shoulders sagged and the fire in his eyes dimmed. Disappointed, at what he couldn't think of at the moment, the feeling just sank into him quite suddenly. He couldn't... Not after the help he'd rendered, not after hearing even a fragment of his story. The idea of orphaning a child, orphaning her twice over...]
... And they'd think me a soft old fool as well. [The words were bitter, and he lightly kicked the gunblade back towards the older man.]
I don't draw my blade against fallen foes. ... No matter who they are.
no subject
[And despite the confidence in staking his own life on that hope... Gaius releases a slow breath, unaware he'd even been holding it, as the other man kicks Heirsbane back to him, though the tension doesn't abate entirely until his answer confirms it. It's as if a plug was pulled, the way the adrenaline drains from him so quickly, because had the man truly wished to kill him...]
That makes you a better man than most.
[Nothing mocking. Not a slight, or a jest. While the wounds made deeper by the man's words are still so raw, not even bitter anger is left, replaced with only aching exhaustion as he once more turns away from the man, grabbing the discarded gunblade and slowly pulling the weapon across his lap. And there's a silent prayer to an old friend, then, apologizing for mistreating his gift in such a way.]
And General Aldynn would no doubt appreciate you leaving him enough of me to still place on trial, when we can finally return home. [When. Because it has to be when, he has to get back to Allie and he has to make things right.]
...for what little it may be worth, I am sorry for your losses. All of them.
no subject
But the stain it'd leave on his soul, how he'd be haunted by it if he were to draw his rapier now... It wasn't worth sacrificing that honor for. Nothing ever would be. Gaius's exhaustion would be mirrored back at him on the mage's own face, all that bitterness equally drained out, replaced now with empty, hollow resignation.
... Even hearing of the promise of a trial did nothing to alleviate it.]
I'm sure he would. His passion for Ala Mhigo may run even deeper than my own... [Were that he could be as brutal as the Bull.]
... Your apologies will not return my comrades to me, Baelsar.
[And indeed, the other man may very knew well of which ones precisely he spoke of, with the veneration that hung in the word.]