Grier "Rook" Thorne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
costofmagic) wrote2025-02-14 07:25 pm
costofmagic) wrote2025-02-14 07:25 pm
AU - First Meetings (Just a Fic Snippet)
"No, it came down hard and pretty damn fast. Total destruction."
No one seemed surprised at how blase he seemed about the scene he had been asked to describe. If he were sitting one could easily imagine him reclining in his chair. No flare or fanfare in his words, but he hadn't exactly been invited here to regale the court with the incident as though suspense were warranted.
The officers sitting on the dais took his answers with equally stern severity, sharing glances between one another.
A civilian witness was hardly expected to approach the proceedings with the same decorum as one of their own. That did not mean they were going to rise to the bait to match his energy.
His was not a name unknown to the Grey Wardens, especially any hailing from the south, and he had been more than happy to testify to what he had seen, one of very few who had chosen to remain in the village while government officials (all two of them, really) and common citizens alike evacuated.
"Can't say I'm even sure how your man managed to pull it off, but that's mages for you, which I am not, clearly." A humble gesture at himself, and one could not be certain if he meant to refer to his lineage or the rather large ballista he had converted into a crossbow that sat astride his back, both of which were clear indicators that he was likely not one who would be casting a spell anytime soon.
"But you are certain it was him, Messere Tethras?"
Indicating the Warden still waiting to be addressed.
The dwarf afforded him an appraising glance and chuffed with amusement. "Between you and me, I don't think he's here to deny it any more than I am," he answered.
There was no word out of turn to confirm or deny that.
The tribunal thanked him with all the warmth of a cave river before at last beckoning their subject forward. He required no escort to do as directed when his name was spoken. There was a brief recounting of the incident as reported to them, without need to go into details once more when a witness had just done that for them, concluding with the crux of the issue:
"You acted without orders or sanction."
The silence that took over the chamber was instantaneous, not even the echo of that stern recrimination seemed brave enough to follow. An unseen binding pulled taut in the gloom, like an bowstring against a drawn arrow waiting too long for the command to let fly.
The officers took in the shape of the Warden who stood before them, straight-backed and equally humorless in bearing, who took those words on his chest not with any apparent shame or even acceptance — simply plain thought as he formed his answer.
"With all due respect," his voice came out a crisp tenor, a vaguely Starkhavenish accent that rolled over carefully chosen words like water over stones that had worn them into something smooth and precious with eons of purpose, "immediate action was needed in order to save lives and prevent the Darkspawn assault. Taking any other route ran the risk of not just the loss of civilian and soldier lives in the imminent attack but would also expose an entire settlement to potential infection. Such a catastrophe would have required greater numbers and coordination to contain."
The mage delivered his response with the confidence of a scholar presenting on their thesis, carefully enunciated and measured. More to the point, the patter was paced so as to be difficult to interrupt, with little pause where an interjection would be possible. Statements that were difficult to puncture were in turn harder to dispute. While Grier Thorne was not of any notable rank, this, coupled with the years in his Blight-Scarred face, carried weight to some.
To the few that mattered today, however, that still read as insolence.
"You collapsed a municipal building—"
"Yes." A word of agreement never cut so sharply. "It eliminated the incursion point most efficiently."
"—With no regard for its importance or the cost to rebuild it."
"My sole concern was whether or not it was empty at the time, which it was. In my years of service under this banner, it has never been stressed to me that real estate was more important than the people we are sworn to protect."
"You are sworn to do battle with the Blight."
"And the Blight was stopped on that day, with zero casualties."
This line could not be followed much further, and so the approach adjusted, another point needing addressed. "You were ordered to hold the line and await reinforcements."
"Reinforcements that arrived two hours after the tunnel had already been sealed. I made a decision and it paid off. Following orders without considering other options and the variables in front of me would have meant ceding ground to an enemy that does not need the Grey Wardens, of all people, making things easier for them."
Thorne seemed no stranger to debate; that much was certain. Perhaps when there were still circles he had been quite adept at living the life of an academic, one of few non-magical pursuits that a mage could hope to find elevation in, while still confined. He did not deliver his answer as one pressed to win their position, however, so much as one merely reiterating clearly understood facts. He was reporting, not fighting for his life.
He bowed his head slightly, chestnut eyes piercing through the curtain of his hair. "I did not disobey out of disrespect or any feeling of failure on the part of my superiors, but at face value, I did disobey -- this I will not argue. I had more information in the moment that demanded a more immediate course of action. Were they privy to the same, I trusted they would have agreed."
The three silently conferred in looks before the officer to Thorne's far right spoke. "None have offered testimony to suggest as much."
"Nor to the contrary."
A tightening at the corner of the mouth. "…Point conceded. What do you base this belief on, then?"
"The fact that I was correct." He seemed just as bewildered as he would to be called to testify that the sky existed. The assertion beckons a quiet chuckle from the back — the witness, still present. "And I would expect persons of higher rank and greater experience than I to come to a similar conclusion."
A few more questions were asked, seeming more concerned with gathering exact information than establishing another issue to be addressed, a sign that proceedings were winding down.
The tribunal left him standing where he was while they rose from their chairs to give their backs to the room and confer. In truth, they were only glad the First Warden had not been present today, remaining in Weisshaupt to await their report rather than coming out to preside in person. At best patience might have been lost sooner and at worse everything would have taken that much longer. With relief they would not allow to touch their faces, lest their authority be questioned in any way by the presence of relatability in their countenances, they looked upon those gathered again.
"We will be taking no disciplinary action at this time, but a record of this incident will be kept." Which might as well have meant that other parties might single him out for discipline later. "You are cautioned to tread lightly for the foreseeable future, Acolyte Thorne, and are released on your own recognizance for the time being." The solace that they themselves would not show could be felt in the room, in particular each of the handful of Wardens that had broken rank to follow him. He had insisted on taking full responsibility, and the greater threat that they might still be held to account had been if this had gone any more poorly. "Keep your head down and be on your best behavior, lest further action be taken." But they felt eyes pick them out then. "That goes for all of you."
Once adjournment was pronounced, everyone under the knife seemed a touch too exhausted to scatter, but they had food and beds awaiting them somewhere just the same, after days uncertain of their fates.
Grier Thorne did not carry himself out into the dusk-light beyond with the same seeming sense of reassurance, a man who either knew the outcome without question or came determined to accept it either way, with a course of action set for whatever he faced. He retained that same calm as he'd taken to the floor with.
"Not bad at all, kid."
Varric regretted using the word once he got another good look at the human. The bare edges of silver in the under layers of his hair, coupled with the lines of his face, even beyond the veins of almost-black that mapped one side like a system of rivers? The dwarf realized he couldn't have been much older than him at all. Did that make his handling of — whatever that was — less impressive? No, but now the writer couldn't really place what made that feel like the most correct word to use.
There wasn't any point in worrying about it now.
"Can I buy you a drink? Seems you've got two victories to celebrate now."
No one seemed surprised at how blase he seemed about the scene he had been asked to describe. If he were sitting one could easily imagine him reclining in his chair. No flare or fanfare in his words, but he hadn't exactly been invited here to regale the court with the incident as though suspense were warranted.
The officers sitting on the dais took his answers with equally stern severity, sharing glances between one another.
A civilian witness was hardly expected to approach the proceedings with the same decorum as one of their own. That did not mean they were going to rise to the bait to match his energy.
His was not a name unknown to the Grey Wardens, especially any hailing from the south, and he had been more than happy to testify to what he had seen, one of very few who had chosen to remain in the village while government officials (all two of them, really) and common citizens alike evacuated.
"Can't say I'm even sure how your man managed to pull it off, but that's mages for you, which I am not, clearly." A humble gesture at himself, and one could not be certain if he meant to refer to his lineage or the rather large ballista he had converted into a crossbow that sat astride his back, both of which were clear indicators that he was likely not one who would be casting a spell anytime soon.
"But you are certain it was him, Messere Tethras?"
Indicating the Warden still waiting to be addressed.
The dwarf afforded him an appraising glance and chuffed with amusement. "Between you and me, I don't think he's here to deny it any more than I am," he answered.
There was no word out of turn to confirm or deny that.
The tribunal thanked him with all the warmth of a cave river before at last beckoning their subject forward. He required no escort to do as directed when his name was spoken. There was a brief recounting of the incident as reported to them, without need to go into details once more when a witness had just done that for them, concluding with the crux of the issue:
"You acted without orders or sanction."
The silence that took over the chamber was instantaneous, not even the echo of that stern recrimination seemed brave enough to follow. An unseen binding pulled taut in the gloom, like an bowstring against a drawn arrow waiting too long for the command to let fly.
The officers took in the shape of the Warden who stood before them, straight-backed and equally humorless in bearing, who took those words on his chest not with any apparent shame or even acceptance — simply plain thought as he formed his answer.
"With all due respect," his voice came out a crisp tenor, a vaguely Starkhavenish accent that rolled over carefully chosen words like water over stones that had worn them into something smooth and precious with eons of purpose, "immediate action was needed in order to save lives and prevent the Darkspawn assault. Taking any other route ran the risk of not just the loss of civilian and soldier lives in the imminent attack but would also expose an entire settlement to potential infection. Such a catastrophe would have required greater numbers and coordination to contain."
The mage delivered his response with the confidence of a scholar presenting on their thesis, carefully enunciated and measured. More to the point, the patter was paced so as to be difficult to interrupt, with little pause where an interjection would be possible. Statements that were difficult to puncture were in turn harder to dispute. While Grier Thorne was not of any notable rank, this, coupled with the years in his Blight-Scarred face, carried weight to some.
To the few that mattered today, however, that still read as insolence.
"You collapsed a municipal building—"
"Yes." A word of agreement never cut so sharply. "It eliminated the incursion point most efficiently."
"—With no regard for its importance or the cost to rebuild it."
"My sole concern was whether or not it was empty at the time, which it was. In my years of service under this banner, it has never been stressed to me that real estate was more important than the people we are sworn to protect."
"You are sworn to do battle with the Blight."
"And the Blight was stopped on that day, with zero casualties."
This line could not be followed much further, and so the approach adjusted, another point needing addressed. "You were ordered to hold the line and await reinforcements."
"Reinforcements that arrived two hours after the tunnel had already been sealed. I made a decision and it paid off. Following orders without considering other options and the variables in front of me would have meant ceding ground to an enemy that does not need the Grey Wardens, of all people, making things easier for them."
Thorne seemed no stranger to debate; that much was certain. Perhaps when there were still circles he had been quite adept at living the life of an academic, one of few non-magical pursuits that a mage could hope to find elevation in, while still confined. He did not deliver his answer as one pressed to win their position, however, so much as one merely reiterating clearly understood facts. He was reporting, not fighting for his life.
He bowed his head slightly, chestnut eyes piercing through the curtain of his hair. "I did not disobey out of disrespect or any feeling of failure on the part of my superiors, but at face value, I did disobey -- this I will not argue. I had more information in the moment that demanded a more immediate course of action. Were they privy to the same, I trusted they would have agreed."
The three silently conferred in looks before the officer to Thorne's far right spoke. "None have offered testimony to suggest as much."
"Nor to the contrary."
A tightening at the corner of the mouth. "…Point conceded. What do you base this belief on, then?"
"The fact that I was correct." He seemed just as bewildered as he would to be called to testify that the sky existed. The assertion beckons a quiet chuckle from the back — the witness, still present. "And I would expect persons of higher rank and greater experience than I to come to a similar conclusion."
A few more questions were asked, seeming more concerned with gathering exact information than establishing another issue to be addressed, a sign that proceedings were winding down.
The tribunal left him standing where he was while they rose from their chairs to give their backs to the room and confer. In truth, they were only glad the First Warden had not been present today, remaining in Weisshaupt to await their report rather than coming out to preside in person. At best patience might have been lost sooner and at worse everything would have taken that much longer. With relief they would not allow to touch their faces, lest their authority be questioned in any way by the presence of relatability in their countenances, they looked upon those gathered again.
"We will be taking no disciplinary action at this time, but a record of this incident will be kept." Which might as well have meant that other parties might single him out for discipline later. "You are cautioned to tread lightly for the foreseeable future, Acolyte Thorne, and are released on your own recognizance for the time being." The solace that they themselves would not show could be felt in the room, in particular each of the handful of Wardens that had broken rank to follow him. He had insisted on taking full responsibility, and the greater threat that they might still be held to account had been if this had gone any more poorly. "Keep your head down and be on your best behavior, lest further action be taken." But they felt eyes pick them out then. "That goes for all of you."
Once adjournment was pronounced, everyone under the knife seemed a touch too exhausted to scatter, but they had food and beds awaiting them somewhere just the same, after days uncertain of their fates.
Grier Thorne did not carry himself out into the dusk-light beyond with the same seeming sense of reassurance, a man who either knew the outcome without question or came determined to accept it either way, with a course of action set for whatever he faced. He retained that same calm as he'd taken to the floor with.
"Not bad at all, kid."
Varric regretted using the word once he got another good look at the human. The bare edges of silver in the under layers of his hair, coupled with the lines of his face, even beyond the veins of almost-black that mapped one side like a system of rivers? The dwarf realized he couldn't have been much older than him at all. Did that make his handling of — whatever that was — less impressive? No, but now the writer couldn't really place what made that feel like the most correct word to use.
There wasn't any point in worrying about it now.
"Can I buy you a drink? Seems you've got two victories to celebrate now."
Part 2
Varric noticed right away that while he had ordered them both a mug of ale, the man had barely looked at his own since it was set down in front of him, save the odd uncomfortable glance that said it was only there because someone else had placed it there. It was such that when he had drained his own and someone came around to ask if he would care for another, the dwarf wordlessly slid the other mug over to himself, intoning "I've got plenty, thank you, but please get my friend here whatever he's craving!"
Softly, he asked for tea, capping it with an understanding thanks when they were alone again.
"Not a drinker?" He could have said something.
Thorne shook his head. "I did not wish to be rude, or give the impression that I was trying to send you away." For half a second too long, imperiously, his gaze lingered, suggesting an unspoken but I considered it.
Cheery, indeed.
"So I apologize," he concluded after a pause.
Varric waved it off. "Once bread becomes toast, it can't go back to being bread. There's no harm done."
Introductions were had back when court had adjourned, and probably unsurprising: he had not heard of the Grey Warden — not necessarily a bad thing. Often secluded from the world, it was not unusual for their numbers to really only enter the public consciousness when the Darkspawn were on the move, and while the odd Warden could be known in many circles for good things instead of bad things, far too often it was only after their deaths.
Sacrifice and all that.
More surprising, though, was that Grier Thorne, wherever he hailed from before the Joining or after, seemed to not have the vaguest idea who Varric was. Not an insult, but maybe it stung just a little. You get on in years and get up to a lot of trouble while doing it, and it's always more that have heard of your exploits than not.
Ears seemed to perk up a bit on mentioning himself as a writer, though.
Curiosity as to whether the locale had been chosen as a subject of interest for a story, somehow, or perhaps a hopefully quiet hamlet to do some concentrating.
In truth, he wished he had just been looking for a piece of pleasant nowhere to settle down and write. Clearly, he would have chosen poorly, if that were the case, but otherwise it would have meant things were still for the time being. That the leagues to go were at last behind him, and visits to corners of the Fade (that he was beginning to dislike nearly as much as the Deep Roads) were at an end. That there was news, good or bad, for Harding to send back to the Inquisitor. No such luck, really.
…His best stuff came to him while he was on the move, anyway.
"Chasing a lead," was all he said at the time.
Once Thorne's drink was in front of him, and he actually seemed keen to touch it now, Varric finally let go of the question he had been itching to ask since he testified:
"So how'd you do it?"
He quirked an eyebrow, a silent bid for clarification.
The tavern might have had patrons but most of them were soldiers, with only a few of the villagers back from their impromptu evacuation and up for socializing.
No one was eavesdropping.
But he kept his voice low, between the two of them as he recounted what he had witnessed and what he understood from feet on the ground. Maybe more than the court needed to know: that he seemed to understand that the tunnel the Darkspawn were seeping out of directly bottle-necked under that building before leading out. That upsetting the structural supports, and maybe more? Would bring the whole thing down, spilling debris even into the wider passages beyond. But that sort of work, that fast, would have required more manpower to set off that chain reaction than the paltry two that followed Thorne (an elf and a dwarf), with none likely to return, as it would be impossible to get to the lowest point of that building and then out again before collapsing. At least not without explosives — which definitely no one had. That he not only sent away the Wardens that had followed him but that he also apparently set it off alone and then emerged with not a scratch on him?
Grier chuckled. It wasn't necessarily a hollow sound, just something very rarely taken out of storage. This was not a man who smiled often, much less laughed — even in disbelief. "It all sounds rather fantastical when you put it that way."
Which just made it far too apparent for the hunch not to rear its head: That's not how this went down.
All the more reason to ask.
"How would you put it, then?"
"Exactly as I have already; an official story that did not end in anyone being court-martialed." Matter-of-fact and pointedly so. It put him in mind of a certain Elven God. Another questioning glance, his look caught. "What, you can be vague about chasing a lead and I cannot about this?"
Point. "That mean you're curious, by chance?"
"'Chasing a lead' is an unusual way to describe what would be among the common pursuits of all but a very specific kind of writer. And author is not the way those types describe themselves." A short glance between his drink and the man across from him as he spoke, organizing his thoughts on the spot. Some of what could be seen in the courtroom came back: a man who put himself forward from the very beginning as one who uses all the things he knows with precision, like pieces on a board. "So I am going to guess it has to do with something else. You made a point to bring it around later in the conversation, rather than coming right out at the start — with an invitation, no less. 'Oh, you wish to hear more?' I surmise that's a proposal waiting to be dropped. Am I correct?"
Once again, nothing he was saying was boring, but it was level. No rise or drop in his cadence, nothing to betray an emotion (probably useful when you're facing superiors that might consider visible irritation or anger as a reason to punish or disregard).
Varric exhaled a little gasp of a laugh. "…Oh, I bet they love you here."
"I'm very popular at parties." Tonelessly sarcastic. "It's my boisterous nature."
"I could tell that about you the second you walked into that courtroom," the writer said with a wink.
"So a lead on what, Messere Tethras?"
The man took in his explanation of his quarry. An elven mage by the name of Solas, known before as the Dread Wolf and by other names, the creation of the Veil to capture the corrupt people that once ruled over the elves as gods. His expression was measured, but the revelation of the Veil in such a way that did not align with the mores of the Andrastian Chantry did not seem to phase him as it would for many others of that particular faith (not that everyone was). But there was something in his face that almost read like he was coming to some manner of internal conclusion.
And what he mused under his breath did give Varric half a second of pause: "…That actually makes perfect sense."
"Glad you think so." But he continued, making clear how this made the elves into what they are today: their histories lost, their immortality, even the true magic they once knew. And that wasn't even mentioning the eons of slavery and bigotry, like their poor treatment at the hands of their supposed gods changed hands and managed to survive the cataclysm that way. "But now Solas wants to tear the Veil down again, put things back how they once were — but that's gonna destroy this world in the process. Somebody's gotta stop him, and that's what I, and my colleagues, are trying to do. I think someone like you could be just what we need. A piece we haven't added to the board yet, if you will."
That smile again. Underused, just as surprised that it was there as the man wearing it. "And what sort of piece is that?"
"The kind that can think in straight lines. …A Rook, I guess."
Thorne lips pursed thoughtfully, the facial equivalent of a shrug as he rolled it over. "That's the glossy version of the pitch, at least. And you have my attention. Happens to be a good time for me to step away. So let's go over the details."
Varric motioned for another round of drinks.