Leon grimaced, rubbing absently at his chest through his tunic. A week in the infirmary and he'd been cleared to at least return to office work. It had taken about that long for Ophelia to find a boat to Jader anyway, and she'd arrived the day after he was released. This morning. The wound still throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but there was little to be done about that. Asala had done what she could for the wound, and Rilien's potions would have to take care of the rest. He wasn't inclined to take more than prescribed.
It was an ugly, thing, the scar. White and twisted, the tissue growing back over the wound rough and thick and ropy. One more for his inventory. The Red Templar's sword had barely missed his heart. Even then, if Khari and the others hadn't gotten him out as quickly as they had, he'd probably have died. Leon knew he could only cheat it so many more times, before his time would be up.
Even now he wondered if it was worth it to live, given the price he was paying for it. What he was becoming. He swallowed, certain he could still taste the tang of tainted blood on his tongue. Frankly he was lucky he hadn't contracted the Taint himself, but the action had been instinctive, visceral. A compulsion that was at once of him and not.
"Leon. Stop." Ophelia's tone brooked no argument; she knew what he looked like when he was brooding. Feeling guilty and sorry for himself. A useless sentiment, by her reckoning. She was probably right.
He sighed, returning his eyes to the book in front of him. "Is this all you saved?"
She shook her head. "No. There were a few other things. Bryland's journal, some other books. More important than the relics. I could only take what I could carry."
Such practicality. Most of the devout would think Havard's finger-bone worth considerably more than a dusty journal written by some long-dead pirate king, but the latter contained knowledge. He'd never read it, himself, but he trusted her to know what was most vital. Ophelia had been a Seeker for a very long time. The tome in front of him was not one he recognized, either: its cover was plain brown leather, scuffed and darkened with age and wear. No doubt it was much more significant than it looked.
"Once," she said, "that information was only for the Lord Seekers and their successors to know. I think it best if you have it now; I've already read it."
"If that's who it was for, I'd best not," he replied. "I won't last long enough to do anything with it." Those were the facts, cold and hard as he found them. He closed his eyes for a moment. His wound ached; he waited for the worst to subside again.
When he opened his eyes, Ophelia had pursed her lips. "There aren't many of us left, Leon." She said it bluntly. "The rest will need someone to lead them when this is said and done."
He shrugged, meeting her eyes steadily. "Then I wish you luck, Ophelia, because it won't be me. I have a year left, after what I pulled in Kasos. At best." Rilien had confirmed it, out of anyone else's earshot. That vial had been triple his usual dose of the Reaver tonic, and even then, it hadn't been enough. No doubt he'd just jump-started his death clock, which might have slowed with how cautious he'd been before. Knowing they'd miscalculated and run into the Lord Seeker's trap had left him no other choice. There simply hadn't been enough of them to survive any other way.
"Don't say that before you've read that book," she replied simply. "Or have that friend of yours read it. The Vint with the eyes." She gestured vaguely to her own. He knew who she meant, in any case, though she could have been referring just as easily to either of two, since they shared the characteristic in question.
"I planned on it, in any case." In fact, he'd called Cyrus here for the purpose of sharing the information. And Captain Séverine as well; he didn't believe anything that so affected the Chantry should be decided without her input, and what was more, he probably owed her an explanation of some things. Their positions relative to each other required trust, and he had to hope what he'd done had not lost him hers.
It wasn't long before they arrived, and Reed admitted both of them at once. Séverine entered the room first, much more slowly than she usually did, but her own injuries also had her not moving quite like usual. She hadn't been in the same amount of danger Leon had survived, but the amount of blood she'd lost had still been perilously high, and even a week later she had yet to really recover her color. Most of the cause of that was a shadow's red lyrium blade cutting across her face, which as Leon heard it had left her head a horrific shade of red from blood running down it for all of their escape.
It was still a grisly injury to look upon, the scar cutting from above her eyebrow almost all the way across her face. In truth she was lucky; the blade had narrowly missed her right eye, which was still tinted a bright shade of red around the iris. With the Inquisition's healing it was likely the wound wouldn't disfigure her overmuch, and would simply serve as a reminder of the events at Kasos instead.
She didn't say anything as she entered, offering a nod to Ophelia and finding a seat. She sank into it carefully and with a quiet exhale once she was settled. She hadn't spoken to Leon much at all after he'd reawakened, and it seemed she didn't plan on having the first word now, either.
Cyrus of course hadn't been injured at all recently, though no doubt by now he'd heard most of the news. He didn't come by the infirmary regularly, but Leon knew enough to know that Astraia used the roof of his tower often, and no doubt he'd made the relevant inquiries of her. He glanced once at Ophelia before folding his hands behind his back, perhaps remaining standing in deference to the injured, should Leon's teacher decide to occupy the second chair in front of his desk.
“Commander." He inclined his head at Leon. “I won't say you look well, but from what I hear this is still much recovered. I'm glad."
Leon attempted to smile, but did not quite succeed, ending up with an expression more like a grimace than anything. Still, however light the words, he suspected Cyrus's sentiment was sincere. "Appreciated," he replied quietly. Shifting slightly, he glanced at all three of them in sequence, leaning back against this desk chair as much for the support as for the formality it added to his posture.
"As all of you either know firsthand or no doubt have heard, the Lord Seeker is dead." Khari had seen to that, as the story had been related to him. She'd done quite well in general during that outing; he'd have to make a point to tell her so at some moment in the near future. "The keep at Kasos was being used to conduct experiments with red lyrium, on Seekers specifically. From what Ophelia discovered after our departure, and from what we saw, it's clear that, though we are resistant to the transformative effects in ways templars are not, even we will die after sufficient exposure." From the Taint rather than the lyrium, if the physical resemblance to those afflicted with the darkspawn disease was anything to go by.
He pressed his lips together. "The experimentation killed almost all of the Seekers remaining in Thedas. We were always few, and always answerable to the Lord Seeker, something he took full advantage of." No doubt many of those he had known were among the piles of the dead, or those disposed of elsewhere. There had not been time to go looking, and he didn't think he'd have wanted to, anyway. "That leaves an entire branch of the Chantry with only two confirmed members."
"There may be others," Ophelia said, shifting her weight. "But one of us would have to go looking. Search the hideouts and known locations in person."
With a nod, Leon turned his eyes down to the wood grain of his desk. "And I cannot. Even if I were in the physical condition to do it, I wouldn't be able to leave the Inquisition for that long." He shook his head slightly. The burn on his back itched; he lifted himself forward off the chair back again. Nothing he did was comfortable for more than a few minutes. "Ophelia would be able to, but there is still the matter of whether she should. Finding others is a long shot. Recruiting and training new Seekers is another option. If we did that, there might be worthwhile progress by the time there's a new Divine to command them, but there also might not. The third option is, of course, doing neither. You might be most immediately useful here, helping us."
It was something that was at the back of his mind, now. If he died before the Inquisition had done its work, there would be few with both the command experience and strategic knowledge necessary to take his place. None with all of that and the respect his title earned him among the faithful. None but her. But if that was to happen, she would need to remain. Get to know the troops, the organization, the people she would be working alongside. And that would mean all but abandoning the Seekers of Truth, at least for now.
"I asked the two of you here because you represent what needs to be considered. The Chantry has no central authority—not anymore—but it is a decision that will affect them greatly now and in the future. Having or not having Seekers at her disposal could make all the difference in how effectively the next Divine is able to begin and maintain her tenure. But there is also a more immediate concern, and that is what resources the Inquisition can and cannot afford to have or let go of." No doubt they would both be able to see the interplay between the pictures involved. No doubt also they were very different ideologically, a balance Leon felt that he needed. It wouldn't be right to make the decision alone. If the Inquisitors needed to be involved later, then that was fair enough; for now, he only wanted to see the options through the eyes of people he trusted.
"I think the Seekers are needed," Séverine answered quickly enough. Her voice didn't let the words come out very clearly, evidence that she had hardly used it all day, but she cleared her throat and sounded normal enough again. "And I don't just say because as a templar I have no authority to think they should be gone." Indeed, a chief responsibility of the Seekers of Truth was to watch over the Templar Order, making it rather difficult for a templar to impartially request their removal.
"The Seekers do needed work," she explained. "Without them this Inquisition would not have been born, and where would the world be now without that? They are needed now more than ever. And now..." She looked between the two Seekers in the room. "Whatever flaws the Seekers had before, they're dead and gone now. Much was lost, but it can be rebuilt, and rebuilt properly. I don't presume to know what secrets were learned from what was recovered at Kasos, but... I trust both of you to do what is right, for the Seekers, the templars, and the people we were created to protect." Whatever her misgivings were about other subjects, she seemed very certain in this.
"My opinion is," she continued, "the recruitment and training of new Seekers should begin as soon as you are able, which perhaps may not be for some time yet. There must be candidates among our ranks here that would be suitable, and I can contact Knight-Commander Cullen to request the same of his templars in Kirkwall. If there are other Seekers out there, let them hear of the order's rebirth here, and they will return if they still desire to serve."
“It would be better to start from scratch, in a sense." Cyrus remained neutral in his expression, dipping his chin just once to indicate that he was more or less in agreement with everything Séverine had said. “If there are any others left, you'd have cause to be suspicious of them. Were they not where they were supposed to be because they didn't trust the Lord Seeker... or because they were useful enough to him that he chose to keep them from the fate of their fellows? There might never be any way to tell. The last thing you need in trying to rebuild the order is to have that mistrust lingering, or a traitor in the ranks. Our templars at least can be trusted to make better decisions than that. Worth a bit of delay to train them, I think."
He paused then, moving his eyes from Leon to Ophelia and back. “Though... there is one other question. Do they train here or elsewhere? If you mean to keep High Seeker Ophelia around because you foresee her needing to step into at least part of your role at some point, there would be advantage in the former. But it would also increase the perception that the Inquisition means to control the future of Thedas, something that the Chantry in Val Royeaux no doubt believes it and it alone has a right to." His tone placed a delicate disdain on the last words, but clearly he knew that it was not an attitude widely-shared.
He was right, of course. They both were. Leon shook his head. "If rebuilding the Seekers is the goal, then the Inquisition keeps its influence as far away as possible. If Halamshiral proved anything, it's that people already think we have too much to do with things outside our official purview." There might even be something to that—no one group should have too much power. It was just asking for corruption and in turn disaster. It was important that whomever was next appointed Divine would have forces at her disposal who had little to do with them, even if that made things more difficult in the short term.
"Then we're all in agreement." Ophelia seemed satisfied. "I will take recruits from among the Templars here and in Kirkwall. No more than twenty in all, at first. We'll use one of the old fortresses. You'll know where it is, in case you need to, but beyond that, we'll stay out of your business. It will be at least a few years before they're really ready, anyway." She crossed her arms over her midsection. "Though that does still leave you with a rather obvious problem."
And it did. Leon pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger, feeling a headache coming on. No doubt it would only compound the rest. "I'll find a solution," he said quietly. "I'll have to." But he was hardly in the mood to linger on it, and it wasn't why he'd called the meeting.
"Cyrus, would you do me a favor and take a look at this?" He pushed the leatherbound book forward to the edge of his desk, meeting eyes with the other man. "It contains knowledge once meant only for the leaders of the Seekers of Truth. As they are now more or less defunct, I see no reason to keep it from you. Perhaps there will be something of significance in it." He dare not hope that a solution to his own problem could be found within, as that had much less to do with his profession as his reaver status, but at the very least there might be something the Inquisition could use in there. He hadn't the time to make careful study of it himself. If anyone could make use of it, then, it would surely be Cyrus.
He stepped forward around Séverine's chair, taking up the book with a rather speculative expression, cracking it open to a random page and scanning over it with a quick motion of his eyes. “I'll take a look." His tone was little more than a thoughtful murmur, but he snapped it shut and lowered it to his side. Tilting his head a bit, he fixed Leon with a searching expression, brows furrowed. “Do take care of yourself, Commander. I doubt you would be half so easy to replace as you seem to think—and I don't just mean your job."
Sparing a brisk nod for the other two, Cyrus paused a moment to make sure there was nothing further, and then took his leave when there wasn't.
In the silence that followed, Séverine shifted uncomfortably, reaching halfway up towards the new scar across her face before she stopped herself. "It's not a templar's place to demand information from her commander, a Seeker at that, but... it has become very obvious that something is being kept from me, and as your friend I would like to know what it is, and if there's anything I can do to help." It was likely that Séverine had noticed something severely amiss back in the Emerald Graves, but perhaps kept her silence then by attributing the events to the particularly fierce fight that resulted against the Red Templars. Clearly she was not willing to keep it now, when others were partially acknowledging it in front of her, leading her to believe she was being kept out of an important loop.
He sometimes forgot who'd he'd told and who he hadn't, but not at the moment. Leon grimaced. "I do apologize for that," he replied. "It's not the simplest thing to explain, but by rights I've should have done it sooner." He didn't intend to keep it from her now, however, and explained it as completely as he knew: what reavers did, how his case was different, and why that difference meant he had little time to waste.
"I... overdid it, at Kasos, when I'd realized my miscalculation. It wasn't—" He wasn't even sure how to finish that. To call what had happened unpleasant was to do a gross disservice to how disgusting and brutal it was. How sick it made him feel, to think about it now. "I thought it was the only choice, given what we were walking into. All things considered, I don't regret it, but it has made the matter of timing considerably more... urgent." He sighed through his nose, feeling the weight of that settle on him. It was all but guaranteed that he'd have to push his responsibilities onto someone else now. The Inquisition's tasks seemed unlikely to end in a year, when Corypheus still had not shown his face since Haven. When so much of what he planned was still obscure. Ending the Lord Seeker's life and research had no doubt been a heavy blow to those plans, but far from a decisive one.
Séverine took the news pretty evenly, all things considered. No doubt she had thought about the things she'd witnessed of him, and the possibilities they could enable. Whether his being a reaver was among them she didn't say. "Well... a lot of things make a lot more sense now." Her hand reached up again, and this time she was unable to stop herself from briefly scratching at a spot on her cheek, where the scar ended.
She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together and mulling it over. He'd already covered that the people most capable of helping him already knew and had known for some time, so she didn't ask after how she could help again. "For what it's worth, I think Cyrus is right. You might think you're replaceable, that Khari or Maker forbid I could take over for you, but... you make all of us better through your work. The Inquisitors, the mages, the templars, the army. It's something that goes beyond the motions of being a commander. The Inquisition would never be the same without you." She let that sit for a moment, before she smiled slightly, the motion twisting her scar slightly and causing her some pain, which she visibly ignored.
"And besides, I've become far too ugly to command any inspiration, while you've managed to keep your pretty face intact somehow. The Maker must be watching out for you yet."
Ophelia outright snorted; Leon constrained his mirth into a smile, though it was a real one, at least. He hoped he wasn't turning red, but there were really no guarantees. "I think we'll have to agree to disagree on the last. I think they give your face just the right amount of character." The smile faded a little, then, and he nodded much more seriously. "But... thank you. For the rest. I... I'll do my best not to resign myself to my fate before it's upon me. I'd hate to leave anything unfinished."
That, at least, couldn't be more true.
It was an ugly, thing, the scar. White and twisted, the tissue growing back over the wound rough and thick and ropy. One more for his inventory. The Red Templar's sword had barely missed his heart. Even then, if Khari and the others hadn't gotten him out as quickly as they had, he'd probably have died. Leon knew he could only cheat it so many more times, before his time would be up.
Even now he wondered if it was worth it to live, given the price he was paying for it. What he was becoming. He swallowed, certain he could still taste the tang of tainted blood on his tongue. Frankly he was lucky he hadn't contracted the Taint himself, but the action had been instinctive, visceral. A compulsion that was at once of him and not.
"Leon. Stop." Ophelia's tone brooked no argument; she knew what he looked like when he was brooding. Feeling guilty and sorry for himself. A useless sentiment, by her reckoning. She was probably right.
He sighed, returning his eyes to the book in front of him. "Is this all you saved?"
She shook her head. "No. There were a few other things. Bryland's journal, some other books. More important than the relics. I could only take what I could carry."
Such practicality. Most of the devout would think Havard's finger-bone worth considerably more than a dusty journal written by some long-dead pirate king, but the latter contained knowledge. He'd never read it, himself, but he trusted her to know what was most vital. Ophelia had been a Seeker for a very long time. The tome in front of him was not one he recognized, either: its cover was plain brown leather, scuffed and darkened with age and wear. No doubt it was much more significant than it looked.
"Once," she said, "that information was only for the Lord Seekers and their successors to know. I think it best if you have it now; I've already read it."
"If that's who it was for, I'd best not," he replied. "I won't last long enough to do anything with it." Those were the facts, cold and hard as he found them. He closed his eyes for a moment. His wound ached; he waited for the worst to subside again.
When he opened his eyes, Ophelia had pursed her lips. "There aren't many of us left, Leon." She said it bluntly. "The rest will need someone to lead them when this is said and done."
He shrugged, meeting her eyes steadily. "Then I wish you luck, Ophelia, because it won't be me. I have a year left, after what I pulled in Kasos. At best." Rilien had confirmed it, out of anyone else's earshot. That vial had been triple his usual dose of the Reaver tonic, and even then, it hadn't been enough. No doubt he'd just jump-started his death clock, which might have slowed with how cautious he'd been before. Knowing they'd miscalculated and run into the Lord Seeker's trap had left him no other choice. There simply hadn't been enough of them to survive any other way.
"Don't say that before you've read that book," she replied simply. "Or have that friend of yours read it. The Vint with the eyes." She gestured vaguely to her own. He knew who she meant, in any case, though she could have been referring just as easily to either of two, since they shared the characteristic in question.
"I planned on it, in any case." In fact, he'd called Cyrus here for the purpose of sharing the information. And Captain Séverine as well; he didn't believe anything that so affected the Chantry should be decided without her input, and what was more, he probably owed her an explanation of some things. Their positions relative to each other required trust, and he had to hope what he'd done had not lost him hers.
It wasn't long before they arrived, and Reed admitted both of them at once. Séverine entered the room first, much more slowly than she usually did, but her own injuries also had her not moving quite like usual. She hadn't been in the same amount of danger Leon had survived, but the amount of blood she'd lost had still been perilously high, and even a week later she had yet to really recover her color. Most of the cause of that was a shadow's red lyrium blade cutting across her face, which as Leon heard it had left her head a horrific shade of red from blood running down it for all of their escape.
It was still a grisly injury to look upon, the scar cutting from above her eyebrow almost all the way across her face. In truth she was lucky; the blade had narrowly missed her right eye, which was still tinted a bright shade of red around the iris. With the Inquisition's healing it was likely the wound wouldn't disfigure her overmuch, and would simply serve as a reminder of the events at Kasos instead.
She didn't say anything as she entered, offering a nod to Ophelia and finding a seat. She sank into it carefully and with a quiet exhale once she was settled. She hadn't spoken to Leon much at all after he'd reawakened, and it seemed she didn't plan on having the first word now, either.
Cyrus of course hadn't been injured at all recently, though no doubt by now he'd heard most of the news. He didn't come by the infirmary regularly, but Leon knew enough to know that Astraia used the roof of his tower often, and no doubt he'd made the relevant inquiries of her. He glanced once at Ophelia before folding his hands behind his back, perhaps remaining standing in deference to the injured, should Leon's teacher decide to occupy the second chair in front of his desk.
“Commander." He inclined his head at Leon. “I won't say you look well, but from what I hear this is still much recovered. I'm glad."
Leon attempted to smile, but did not quite succeed, ending up with an expression more like a grimace than anything. Still, however light the words, he suspected Cyrus's sentiment was sincere. "Appreciated," he replied quietly. Shifting slightly, he glanced at all three of them in sequence, leaning back against this desk chair as much for the support as for the formality it added to his posture.
"As all of you either know firsthand or no doubt have heard, the Lord Seeker is dead." Khari had seen to that, as the story had been related to him. She'd done quite well in general during that outing; he'd have to make a point to tell her so at some moment in the near future. "The keep at Kasos was being used to conduct experiments with red lyrium, on Seekers specifically. From what Ophelia discovered after our departure, and from what we saw, it's clear that, though we are resistant to the transformative effects in ways templars are not, even we will die after sufficient exposure." From the Taint rather than the lyrium, if the physical resemblance to those afflicted with the darkspawn disease was anything to go by.
He pressed his lips together. "The experimentation killed almost all of the Seekers remaining in Thedas. We were always few, and always answerable to the Lord Seeker, something he took full advantage of." No doubt many of those he had known were among the piles of the dead, or those disposed of elsewhere. There had not been time to go looking, and he didn't think he'd have wanted to, anyway. "That leaves an entire branch of the Chantry with only two confirmed members."
"There may be others," Ophelia said, shifting her weight. "But one of us would have to go looking. Search the hideouts and known locations in person."
With a nod, Leon turned his eyes down to the wood grain of his desk. "And I cannot. Even if I were in the physical condition to do it, I wouldn't be able to leave the Inquisition for that long." He shook his head slightly. The burn on his back itched; he lifted himself forward off the chair back again. Nothing he did was comfortable for more than a few minutes. "Ophelia would be able to, but there is still the matter of whether she should. Finding others is a long shot. Recruiting and training new Seekers is another option. If we did that, there might be worthwhile progress by the time there's a new Divine to command them, but there also might not. The third option is, of course, doing neither. You might be most immediately useful here, helping us."
It was something that was at the back of his mind, now. If he died before the Inquisition had done its work, there would be few with both the command experience and strategic knowledge necessary to take his place. None with all of that and the respect his title earned him among the faithful. None but her. But if that was to happen, she would need to remain. Get to know the troops, the organization, the people she would be working alongside. And that would mean all but abandoning the Seekers of Truth, at least for now.
"I asked the two of you here because you represent what needs to be considered. The Chantry has no central authority—not anymore—but it is a decision that will affect them greatly now and in the future. Having or not having Seekers at her disposal could make all the difference in how effectively the next Divine is able to begin and maintain her tenure. But there is also a more immediate concern, and that is what resources the Inquisition can and cannot afford to have or let go of." No doubt they would both be able to see the interplay between the pictures involved. No doubt also they were very different ideologically, a balance Leon felt that he needed. It wouldn't be right to make the decision alone. If the Inquisitors needed to be involved later, then that was fair enough; for now, he only wanted to see the options through the eyes of people he trusted.
"I think the Seekers are needed," Séverine answered quickly enough. Her voice didn't let the words come out very clearly, evidence that she had hardly used it all day, but she cleared her throat and sounded normal enough again. "And I don't just say because as a templar I have no authority to think they should be gone." Indeed, a chief responsibility of the Seekers of Truth was to watch over the Templar Order, making it rather difficult for a templar to impartially request their removal.
"The Seekers do needed work," she explained. "Without them this Inquisition would not have been born, and where would the world be now without that? They are needed now more than ever. And now..." She looked between the two Seekers in the room. "Whatever flaws the Seekers had before, they're dead and gone now. Much was lost, but it can be rebuilt, and rebuilt properly. I don't presume to know what secrets were learned from what was recovered at Kasos, but... I trust both of you to do what is right, for the Seekers, the templars, and the people we were created to protect." Whatever her misgivings were about other subjects, she seemed very certain in this.
"My opinion is," she continued, "the recruitment and training of new Seekers should begin as soon as you are able, which perhaps may not be for some time yet. There must be candidates among our ranks here that would be suitable, and I can contact Knight-Commander Cullen to request the same of his templars in Kirkwall. If there are other Seekers out there, let them hear of the order's rebirth here, and they will return if they still desire to serve."
“It would be better to start from scratch, in a sense." Cyrus remained neutral in his expression, dipping his chin just once to indicate that he was more or less in agreement with everything Séverine had said. “If there are any others left, you'd have cause to be suspicious of them. Were they not where they were supposed to be because they didn't trust the Lord Seeker... or because they were useful enough to him that he chose to keep them from the fate of their fellows? There might never be any way to tell. The last thing you need in trying to rebuild the order is to have that mistrust lingering, or a traitor in the ranks. Our templars at least can be trusted to make better decisions than that. Worth a bit of delay to train them, I think."
He paused then, moving his eyes from Leon to Ophelia and back. “Though... there is one other question. Do they train here or elsewhere? If you mean to keep High Seeker Ophelia around because you foresee her needing to step into at least part of your role at some point, there would be advantage in the former. But it would also increase the perception that the Inquisition means to control the future of Thedas, something that the Chantry in Val Royeaux no doubt believes it and it alone has a right to." His tone placed a delicate disdain on the last words, but clearly he knew that it was not an attitude widely-shared.
He was right, of course. They both were. Leon shook his head. "If rebuilding the Seekers is the goal, then the Inquisition keeps its influence as far away as possible. If Halamshiral proved anything, it's that people already think we have too much to do with things outside our official purview." There might even be something to that—no one group should have too much power. It was just asking for corruption and in turn disaster. It was important that whomever was next appointed Divine would have forces at her disposal who had little to do with them, even if that made things more difficult in the short term.
"Then we're all in agreement." Ophelia seemed satisfied. "I will take recruits from among the Templars here and in Kirkwall. No more than twenty in all, at first. We'll use one of the old fortresses. You'll know where it is, in case you need to, but beyond that, we'll stay out of your business. It will be at least a few years before they're really ready, anyway." She crossed her arms over her midsection. "Though that does still leave you with a rather obvious problem."
And it did. Leon pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger, feeling a headache coming on. No doubt it would only compound the rest. "I'll find a solution," he said quietly. "I'll have to." But he was hardly in the mood to linger on it, and it wasn't why he'd called the meeting.
"Cyrus, would you do me a favor and take a look at this?" He pushed the leatherbound book forward to the edge of his desk, meeting eyes with the other man. "It contains knowledge once meant only for the leaders of the Seekers of Truth. As they are now more or less defunct, I see no reason to keep it from you. Perhaps there will be something of significance in it." He dare not hope that a solution to his own problem could be found within, as that had much less to do with his profession as his reaver status, but at the very least there might be something the Inquisition could use in there. He hadn't the time to make careful study of it himself. If anyone could make use of it, then, it would surely be Cyrus.
He stepped forward around Séverine's chair, taking up the book with a rather speculative expression, cracking it open to a random page and scanning over it with a quick motion of his eyes. “I'll take a look." His tone was little more than a thoughtful murmur, but he snapped it shut and lowered it to his side. Tilting his head a bit, he fixed Leon with a searching expression, brows furrowed. “Do take care of yourself, Commander. I doubt you would be half so easy to replace as you seem to think—and I don't just mean your job."
Sparing a brisk nod for the other two, Cyrus paused a moment to make sure there was nothing further, and then took his leave when there wasn't.
In the silence that followed, Séverine shifted uncomfortably, reaching halfway up towards the new scar across her face before she stopped herself. "It's not a templar's place to demand information from her commander, a Seeker at that, but... it has become very obvious that something is being kept from me, and as your friend I would like to know what it is, and if there's anything I can do to help." It was likely that Séverine had noticed something severely amiss back in the Emerald Graves, but perhaps kept her silence then by attributing the events to the particularly fierce fight that resulted against the Red Templars. Clearly she was not willing to keep it now, when others were partially acknowledging it in front of her, leading her to believe she was being kept out of an important loop.
He sometimes forgot who'd he'd told and who he hadn't, but not at the moment. Leon grimaced. "I do apologize for that," he replied. "It's not the simplest thing to explain, but by rights I've should have done it sooner." He didn't intend to keep it from her now, however, and explained it as completely as he knew: what reavers did, how his case was different, and why that difference meant he had little time to waste.
"I... overdid it, at Kasos, when I'd realized my miscalculation. It wasn't—" He wasn't even sure how to finish that. To call what had happened unpleasant was to do a gross disservice to how disgusting and brutal it was. How sick it made him feel, to think about it now. "I thought it was the only choice, given what we were walking into. All things considered, I don't regret it, but it has made the matter of timing considerably more... urgent." He sighed through his nose, feeling the weight of that settle on him. It was all but guaranteed that he'd have to push his responsibilities onto someone else now. The Inquisition's tasks seemed unlikely to end in a year, when Corypheus still had not shown his face since Haven. When so much of what he planned was still obscure. Ending the Lord Seeker's life and research had no doubt been a heavy blow to those plans, but far from a decisive one.
Séverine took the news pretty evenly, all things considered. No doubt she had thought about the things she'd witnessed of him, and the possibilities they could enable. Whether his being a reaver was among them she didn't say. "Well... a lot of things make a lot more sense now." Her hand reached up again, and this time she was unable to stop herself from briefly scratching at a spot on her cheek, where the scar ended.
She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together and mulling it over. He'd already covered that the people most capable of helping him already knew and had known for some time, so she didn't ask after how she could help again. "For what it's worth, I think Cyrus is right. You might think you're replaceable, that Khari or Maker forbid I could take over for you, but... you make all of us better through your work. The Inquisitors, the mages, the templars, the army. It's something that goes beyond the motions of being a commander. The Inquisition would never be the same without you." She let that sit for a moment, before she smiled slightly, the motion twisting her scar slightly and causing her some pain, which she visibly ignored.
"And besides, I've become far too ugly to command any inspiration, while you've managed to keep your pretty face intact somehow. The Maker must be watching out for you yet."
Ophelia outright snorted; Leon constrained his mirth into a smile, though it was a real one, at least. He hoped he wasn't turning red, but there were really no guarantees. "I think we'll have to agree to disagree on the last. I think they give your face just the right amount of character." The smile faded a little, then, and he nodded much more seriously. "But... thank you. For the rest. I... I'll do my best not to resign myself to my fate before it's upon me. I'd hate to leave anything unfinished."
That, at least, couldn't be more true.