Leon's fingers trembled; he tightened his grip on the stone basin, half bent over it. His hair fell over his shoulders, closing the rest of his quarters off from view like a pale curtain, blotting awareness of anything but the slow, throbbing burn deep in his bones. His breath was ragged, quaking as he pulled it in, held it carefully, and then released as slowly as he could, over and over again. Sweat beaded on his forehead, stinging his eyes. A shudder ripped through him, his entire musculature locking up tightly. Leon grunted, tipping forward only somewhat voluntarily, his brow pressing into the mirrored glass mounted on the wall.
It felt like hours before the cramps eased, allowing him to move more or less freely again. Pulling himself away from the wall, Leon dipped both of his hands into the basin, bringing the cold water up to his face and ducking into it. It splashed back into the basin like rain, carrying the salt of sweat and involuntary tears both with it. He repeated the process until he was sure the evidence was gone, then straightened, peering at himself in the smeared looking-glass.
He'd certainly seen better days. A complexion like his did little to hide the bruised circles beneath his eyes, or the ways shadows filled in the hollows of his cheeks easier than they had even a few months ago. He'd lost weight—not too much, yet, not enough to deplete his physical strength in a way anyone else would notice. But enough for him to feel the difference. Enough to wonder how long it would be before everything he'd spent years building, honing, becoming, would all be gone.
Perhaps he could understand how Cyrus felt, after all.
Shaking his head, Leon wiped the mirror clean and picked a leather cord off his bedside table, wrapping it a few times around his hair at the nape of his neck to secure it in place. The episode had woken him from a fitful sleep, but there was little use going back to it now. He might as well just get started on his work for the day. After getting dressed, he climbed the ladder down to his office and settled himself behind his desk.
Not long after he'd gotten started, and earlier than usual, came a knock at the door, more a formality than anything, as the source of the sound soon showed herself inside. Séverine had been making regular visits to Leon's office, at least if he was unable for whatever reason to show himself in her more frequented parts of Skyhold, to the point where she no longer needed to check with Reed for admittance. Social calls as much as more official discussions, as it turned out. The Knight-Captain did not have an abundance of friends still, and had found that she could not, or perhaps would not grow overly close with the templars she served and fought alongside. The reason for that seemed obvious enough, as nearly half of those she'd selected for the first ambush against the Red Templars did not survive their wounds.
"Thought I'd rouse the men for training early today," she said as she closed the door behind her, explaining her early arrival. The breath she expelled visibly fogged in front of her. She wore a heavy coat belted around the abdomen, with the templar insignia stitched into the back, thick gloves, and tall boots. She looked far from having just woken. "Should keep them on their toes, stop them from drinking too much for a while."
Peeling off her gloves, she took a few more steps into the office before she actually looked up to see Leon, at which point she stopped, her second glove still clinging to her fingers. "Are you feeling well, Leon? You look... paler than usual." She was not one to soften her words or their delivery, or hide what she felt, which in this case was concern.
Leon was hardly surprised, though that didn't make it pleasant news, exactly. He sighed, setting his quill aside. "Not especially," he admitted. "But if it's only my complexion, a bit of time out there should help." Not the underlying problem, but at least the appearances. His very Ander skin tone did not stand up to cold without a considerable amount of redness, after all. He'd have to spend some time warming up before he began teaching Khari topographical tactics today.
Sitting up and back a little, he gestured for her to take a chair. She knew, of course, that she was welcome to any of them she wanted. He did it more out of habit than anything. "How did it go, then?"
"About as well as I expected." Séverine folded her gloves together, tucking them halfway in a coat pocket as she made her way forward and settled into a chair. She didn't look entirely satisfied by his answer regarding his well-being, but she accepted it for the moment. "There was a lot of violent cursing, some of it more joking than the rest, but all of them did their parts, and know I wouldn't drill them extra hard without cause. They all know this lull is only temporary, and that they'll be fighting a monstrous enemy soon enough again."
She opened a pocket on her other side, withdrawing a parchment, which she unfolded and set on Leon's desk, pushing it towards his side. "Scout's report from the Emerald Graves came in, as expected. Thought I'd bring it to you myself. The important part of it is that we have targets to hit again... if that's the course we want to take." She fell silent, allowing him to read.
He straightened out the crease in the parchment, scanning over the report carefully. It would seem they'd managed to locate several Red Templar hideouts, places where they were concealing their shipments. giving them the appearance of more mundane goods, to pass unnoticed on the roads, no doubt. Each base of operations had its fair share of hostages; they'd included rough numerical estimates, though he knew they'd be very rough. The scouts would have prioritized nondetection, for fear of getting the people they meant to count killed.
Reaching up, Leon placed his thumb on one side of his jaw and rubbed at the other with the rest of his fingers. There was a rasp; he'd intended to shave that morning but then forgotten after his uncomfortable awakening.
"I'm not sure it is," he murmured over a sigh, setting the report back down and meeting her eyes. "If they were ordinary men, then perhaps the risk would justify itself. We could send in our own elites, secure the hostages first, and so on. But this..." He dropped his hand back to the surface of the desk, drumming his fingers on the surface of it. "Each base we attack is condemning more people to death, both innocents and our own. What we gain by comparison seems to be very little." They couldn't even claim to have acquired much by way of information, and knocking out one base would just ensure another was built somewhere else, if they did nothing to weaken the core of the operations.
Séverine didn't look like the line of reasoning had the greatest effect on her, but also quite troubled by the whole thing. She propped an elbow on the chair's armrest and frowned, tilting her head against some of the fingers on her right hand. "I wonder if it isn't the most misguided of my mentors speaking now... but I don't know if I can stomach simply waiting here, while the traitors hide behind shields of noncombatants and prepare to strike. Where, when... we don't know." The mentor she spoke of was undoubtedly Knight-Commander Meredith, extremely action-oriented woman that she was. Creating problems that were not there as well as fighting the ones that were.
"I can't help but feel that these people are condemned to die by our inaction just the same," Séverine continued. "And what we gained for the first strike was minimal, but I have to believe there could be a lead to something in one of these bases. Where the lyrium's end destination is, who is organizing all of this, something we can use." She looked to be trying to contain the eagerness in her tone, but as was normal, she was not very good at it. "They can't have the numbers to strike anywhere, as the Venatori seem to. There has to be something decisive coming. Something strong. I don't want to be callous towards potential loss of life, but... I can't help but think of what could be lost if no sacrifice is made."
"We don't have the numbers to strike anywhere, either," Leon reminded her gently. "Troops are a very limited resource for us, and these bases are bound to be better-defended than a moving caravan. They will have built them into the landscape, entrenched themselves as much as possible. If we aren't careful, it will turn into a war of attrition, and we will lose it. And then be that many men and women down when they do make their decisive move." He could see the merit in her eagerness to take action, to do something productive, but that could backfire just as easily as not. He'd prefer to balance the necessity with time. The hostages had some of that left. If the Inquisition struck, they would not.
Sacrifice might well turn out to be necessary. He wouldn't shy from it if it did. But it was too easy to throw that word around when it wasn't truly warranted. "We need better intelligence first. If we can identify one or two bases that seem particularly prominent or centrally-located, the chance of good information goes up. Then we can marshal our forces for a decisive strike. Until we know more about them, about the heart of their operation and their strategic plans, I think the knife will serve us better than the hammer. Before this is a job for us, I believe it is a job for Rilien."
She sighed, deflating a little. "You make a very good point. This is why it's good that I have to come to you first. Too headstrong for my own good." She shook her head. "Intelligence first, then. If they're not required elsewhere, perhaps we can get a stronger scout presence in the Graves again? I seem to recall Lia mentioning she was taking personal time. If that's at an end, her services would be more than welcome."
"An excellent suggestion," Leon replied, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He didn't think she was necessarily wrong to think the way she did. Just headstrong, as she said. It was something that would serve her well, though, if she tempered it a little beforehand. "And I think we could ask her visitors to go with her. They are both exceedingly suited for such matters. Perhaps that will allow them to discover information we could not." He paused, making a note of it to make sure he remembered to get it taken care of as soon as possible, then glanced back over at her.
"I'm guessing you would like to lead the future excursion? It wouldn't be a poor idea at all."
"I would. I need to," she said, clarifying that like to wasn't a strong enough way to put her inclination. "Our last attempt was... well, it was a defeat, wasn't it? Despite destroying the caravan. We lost templars, we gained nothing, and you were wounded as well." The last part seemed to bother her equally as much as the rest. "None of our own will join the Red Templars, not now that they know what becomes of them, what they're enslaved to. But they need to know that they can beat them, that their faith in the Maker isn't for nothing. They need to know that I can beat them. I suppose I do, too."
Séverine lifted a hand to her lips, almost as if to nervously chew on a nail, but she refrained, shifting uncomfortably. "Over the course of the winter here it managed to spread throughout my templars what... who I am, I suppose you could say. Where my loyalties were in the past, and with that the rumor of things I have and have not done." She exhaled a frustrated breath, tucking a stray few strands of black hair behind her ear. "I should've told them myself, but it didn't seem to matter here. Cullen never thought it mattered, even when I was still in Kirkwall."
"It doesn't matter to those of us that know you personally." Leon thought she probably knew that, but he felt it was important to say anyway. "But... yes. Things can matter more, or differently in a position of leadership than they do when someone else is in charge." He knew that far too well—it was among the reasons he was at such pains to keep his condition under control and as invisible as possible. "Showing them you can be relied upon is imperative. I'll make sure you're in charge when the next strike happens." And that he was not.
"Thank you," she said, earnestly. "I will do everything I can to achieve the best outcome. For everyone." She took a long breath, perhaps considering something else, but then she stood, slowly donning her gloves again. "I should be getting to work, then. I'd like to be moving out before midday. If I don't see you on the way out..." she paused, forming the words for a moment, "I'll try keep what you've taught in mind. And take care of yourself, please."
Leon offered a characteristically-mild smile, and nodded. "I'll do my very best. Good luck out there."
Against the Red Templars, it certainly couldn't hurt.
It felt like hours before the cramps eased, allowing him to move more or less freely again. Pulling himself away from the wall, Leon dipped both of his hands into the basin, bringing the cold water up to his face and ducking into it. It splashed back into the basin like rain, carrying the salt of sweat and involuntary tears both with it. He repeated the process until he was sure the evidence was gone, then straightened, peering at himself in the smeared looking-glass.
He'd certainly seen better days. A complexion like his did little to hide the bruised circles beneath his eyes, or the ways shadows filled in the hollows of his cheeks easier than they had even a few months ago. He'd lost weight—not too much, yet, not enough to deplete his physical strength in a way anyone else would notice. But enough for him to feel the difference. Enough to wonder how long it would be before everything he'd spent years building, honing, becoming, would all be gone.
Perhaps he could understand how Cyrus felt, after all.
Shaking his head, Leon wiped the mirror clean and picked a leather cord off his bedside table, wrapping it a few times around his hair at the nape of his neck to secure it in place. The episode had woken him from a fitful sleep, but there was little use going back to it now. He might as well just get started on his work for the day. After getting dressed, he climbed the ladder down to his office and settled himself behind his desk.
Not long after he'd gotten started, and earlier than usual, came a knock at the door, more a formality than anything, as the source of the sound soon showed herself inside. Séverine had been making regular visits to Leon's office, at least if he was unable for whatever reason to show himself in her more frequented parts of Skyhold, to the point where she no longer needed to check with Reed for admittance. Social calls as much as more official discussions, as it turned out. The Knight-Captain did not have an abundance of friends still, and had found that she could not, or perhaps would not grow overly close with the templars she served and fought alongside. The reason for that seemed obvious enough, as nearly half of those she'd selected for the first ambush against the Red Templars did not survive their wounds.
"Thought I'd rouse the men for training early today," she said as she closed the door behind her, explaining her early arrival. The breath she expelled visibly fogged in front of her. She wore a heavy coat belted around the abdomen, with the templar insignia stitched into the back, thick gloves, and tall boots. She looked far from having just woken. "Should keep them on their toes, stop them from drinking too much for a while."
Peeling off her gloves, she took a few more steps into the office before she actually looked up to see Leon, at which point she stopped, her second glove still clinging to her fingers. "Are you feeling well, Leon? You look... paler than usual." She was not one to soften her words or their delivery, or hide what she felt, which in this case was concern.
Leon was hardly surprised, though that didn't make it pleasant news, exactly. He sighed, setting his quill aside. "Not especially," he admitted. "But if it's only my complexion, a bit of time out there should help." Not the underlying problem, but at least the appearances. His very Ander skin tone did not stand up to cold without a considerable amount of redness, after all. He'd have to spend some time warming up before he began teaching Khari topographical tactics today.
Sitting up and back a little, he gestured for her to take a chair. She knew, of course, that she was welcome to any of them she wanted. He did it more out of habit than anything. "How did it go, then?"
"About as well as I expected." Séverine folded her gloves together, tucking them halfway in a coat pocket as she made her way forward and settled into a chair. She didn't look entirely satisfied by his answer regarding his well-being, but she accepted it for the moment. "There was a lot of violent cursing, some of it more joking than the rest, but all of them did their parts, and know I wouldn't drill them extra hard without cause. They all know this lull is only temporary, and that they'll be fighting a monstrous enemy soon enough again."
She opened a pocket on her other side, withdrawing a parchment, which she unfolded and set on Leon's desk, pushing it towards his side. "Scout's report from the Emerald Graves came in, as expected. Thought I'd bring it to you myself. The important part of it is that we have targets to hit again... if that's the course we want to take." She fell silent, allowing him to read.
He straightened out the crease in the parchment, scanning over the report carefully. It would seem they'd managed to locate several Red Templar hideouts, places where they were concealing their shipments. giving them the appearance of more mundane goods, to pass unnoticed on the roads, no doubt. Each base of operations had its fair share of hostages; they'd included rough numerical estimates, though he knew they'd be very rough. The scouts would have prioritized nondetection, for fear of getting the people they meant to count killed.
Reaching up, Leon placed his thumb on one side of his jaw and rubbed at the other with the rest of his fingers. There was a rasp; he'd intended to shave that morning but then forgotten after his uncomfortable awakening.
"I'm not sure it is," he murmured over a sigh, setting the report back down and meeting her eyes. "If they were ordinary men, then perhaps the risk would justify itself. We could send in our own elites, secure the hostages first, and so on. But this..." He dropped his hand back to the surface of the desk, drumming his fingers on the surface of it. "Each base we attack is condemning more people to death, both innocents and our own. What we gain by comparison seems to be very little." They couldn't even claim to have acquired much by way of information, and knocking out one base would just ensure another was built somewhere else, if they did nothing to weaken the core of the operations.
Séverine didn't look like the line of reasoning had the greatest effect on her, but also quite troubled by the whole thing. She propped an elbow on the chair's armrest and frowned, tilting her head against some of the fingers on her right hand. "I wonder if it isn't the most misguided of my mentors speaking now... but I don't know if I can stomach simply waiting here, while the traitors hide behind shields of noncombatants and prepare to strike. Where, when... we don't know." The mentor she spoke of was undoubtedly Knight-Commander Meredith, extremely action-oriented woman that she was. Creating problems that were not there as well as fighting the ones that were.
"I can't help but feel that these people are condemned to die by our inaction just the same," Séverine continued. "And what we gained for the first strike was minimal, but I have to believe there could be a lead to something in one of these bases. Where the lyrium's end destination is, who is organizing all of this, something we can use." She looked to be trying to contain the eagerness in her tone, but as was normal, she was not very good at it. "They can't have the numbers to strike anywhere, as the Venatori seem to. There has to be something decisive coming. Something strong. I don't want to be callous towards potential loss of life, but... I can't help but think of what could be lost if no sacrifice is made."
"We don't have the numbers to strike anywhere, either," Leon reminded her gently. "Troops are a very limited resource for us, and these bases are bound to be better-defended than a moving caravan. They will have built them into the landscape, entrenched themselves as much as possible. If we aren't careful, it will turn into a war of attrition, and we will lose it. And then be that many men and women down when they do make their decisive move." He could see the merit in her eagerness to take action, to do something productive, but that could backfire just as easily as not. He'd prefer to balance the necessity with time. The hostages had some of that left. If the Inquisition struck, they would not.
Sacrifice might well turn out to be necessary. He wouldn't shy from it if it did. But it was too easy to throw that word around when it wasn't truly warranted. "We need better intelligence first. If we can identify one or two bases that seem particularly prominent or centrally-located, the chance of good information goes up. Then we can marshal our forces for a decisive strike. Until we know more about them, about the heart of their operation and their strategic plans, I think the knife will serve us better than the hammer. Before this is a job for us, I believe it is a job for Rilien."
She sighed, deflating a little. "You make a very good point. This is why it's good that I have to come to you first. Too headstrong for my own good." She shook her head. "Intelligence first, then. If they're not required elsewhere, perhaps we can get a stronger scout presence in the Graves again? I seem to recall Lia mentioning she was taking personal time. If that's at an end, her services would be more than welcome."
"An excellent suggestion," Leon replied, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He didn't think she was necessarily wrong to think the way she did. Just headstrong, as she said. It was something that would serve her well, though, if she tempered it a little beforehand. "And I think we could ask her visitors to go with her. They are both exceedingly suited for such matters. Perhaps that will allow them to discover information we could not." He paused, making a note of it to make sure he remembered to get it taken care of as soon as possible, then glanced back over at her.
"I'm guessing you would like to lead the future excursion? It wouldn't be a poor idea at all."
"I would. I need to," she said, clarifying that like to wasn't a strong enough way to put her inclination. "Our last attempt was... well, it was a defeat, wasn't it? Despite destroying the caravan. We lost templars, we gained nothing, and you were wounded as well." The last part seemed to bother her equally as much as the rest. "None of our own will join the Red Templars, not now that they know what becomes of them, what they're enslaved to. But they need to know that they can beat them, that their faith in the Maker isn't for nothing. They need to know that I can beat them. I suppose I do, too."
Séverine lifted a hand to her lips, almost as if to nervously chew on a nail, but she refrained, shifting uncomfortably. "Over the course of the winter here it managed to spread throughout my templars what... who I am, I suppose you could say. Where my loyalties were in the past, and with that the rumor of things I have and have not done." She exhaled a frustrated breath, tucking a stray few strands of black hair behind her ear. "I should've told them myself, but it didn't seem to matter here. Cullen never thought it mattered, even when I was still in Kirkwall."
"It doesn't matter to those of us that know you personally." Leon thought she probably knew that, but he felt it was important to say anyway. "But... yes. Things can matter more, or differently in a position of leadership than they do when someone else is in charge." He knew that far too well—it was among the reasons he was at such pains to keep his condition under control and as invisible as possible. "Showing them you can be relied upon is imperative. I'll make sure you're in charge when the next strike happens." And that he was not.
"Thank you," she said, earnestly. "I will do everything I can to achieve the best outcome. For everyone." She took a long breath, perhaps considering something else, but then she stood, slowly donning her gloves again. "I should be getting to work, then. I'd like to be moving out before midday. If I don't see you on the way out..." she paused, forming the words for a moment, "I'll try keep what you've taught in mind. And take care of yourself, please."
Leon offered a characteristically-mild smile, and nodded. "I'll do my very best. Good luck out there."
Against the Red Templars, it certainly couldn't hurt.