"You sure you don't want to run through these reports for me?" Ashton asked, glancing up from the mound of papers on his desk. His Lieutenant shook her head from across the room where she stood, leaned against the door frame that led out into the keep. She wore a scar across her jaw, the freshest of her collection, its edges still jagged and fresh. It'll heal, in time, until it faded like its cousin that sat on her check. They were used to it at this point in their careers.
She huffed and shook her head. "You're healed up enough, you're not useless," She noted. She hadn't been the only one who received lasting marks from the battle. A jagged wound hid just above his hairline, a secret to all until he pulled his hair up to show it off. That along with a numerous amount of other smaller injuries, some that would fade. Some that would not. Trying to keep his people safe and alive while they waited for help took its toll not only on him, but the rest of his guard.
The rest, he thought grimly, taking another look at the paperwork piled high on his desk. The siege had taken its toll on his guardsmen, and their force was greatly diminished. The first thing he tried to figure out when the fighting had died down was just how many of his men made it, and how many did not. The ones that did not, he would have to write letters of condolences to their families-- if their families had survived as well. It wasn't only the guard who suffered losses. The entire city suffered losses, from the nobles, to the militia, to even the civilians. Ashton planted a elbow on his desk and rested his head on it. "Could've fooled me," he answered.
A knock on the office door, already cracked open, preceded a new visitor, albeit one with a familiar face. Lucien carried what looked like another thick sheaf of parchments tucked under his elbow. "Afternoon, Ash," he said, smiling halfway but no further. It was grim work they were doing, but he'd seemed to be in a good mood the last few days regardless. The sort of happiness that was not easily dampened by circumstance. As yet, there'd been no indication why, beyond the obvious fact that he was once again in Kirkwall, face-to-face with many of his friends and of course Sophia.
He nodded politely to Vesper as well. "Lieutenant. I've got the final tallies from the civilian reports. I thought you'd want a copy for your records. And to cross-reference, for the letters." His mouth pulled a little to the side at that.
Ash sunk even lower into his elbow, but still somehow managed to shrug. "There should still be an open spot on this desk... Somewhere," he said, scanning from side-to-side. Eventually he sat straight in his chair, at least for all of a moment or two before slunk into the highbacked chair. This was an inevitable part of the process, but that inevitability did not mean he wanted to do it. Some of the names he recognized, and one or two he'd actually seen fall in battle-- and he helpless to do anything for them.
He shook his head and sighed, working up a smile for Lucien. He then gestured toward the open seat in front of his desk, "I hope its not too presumptuous of me to ask the Emperor of Orlais if he would like to lend a hand?" he asked. "Two hands are faster and one, plus hopefully the conversation will take my mind off of all... this," he said, gesturing toward the papers.
Lucien hummed. "I think perhaps the actual letters should come from you, but I can help with the lists, at least." He seemed to pay no mind to the Emperor part—it wasn't really in his nature to put too much stock in titles and the like. He used them when politeness demanded, but Ashton had never known him to insist on being addressed by any himself. Apparently that much had not changed, even as the titles grew more prestigious.
He eyes one of the larger piles of work—patrol reports, some of which included the names of discovered dead and the like. Halving them neatly, Lucien pulled a smaller table and another chair up to the far side of the desk and settled himself there. "You write condolences; I'll condense the rest of this as well as I can. I've had some practice." His tone was almost wry, dimmed slightly by exactly what he was condensing, no doubt.
Ashton regarded him for a moment before nodding in agreement. "I suppose you would," he answered. It did sound like the type of thing an Emperor would be well versed in after all. Ashton then leaned over in his chair and pulled out the bottom drawer in his desk, revealing among other items, a sheaf of paper with the Viscount's letterhead stamped at the top. He regarded for a moment before setting it down with the other sheaf. "Wonder if Sophia's gonna change that,' he noted absently. Since in practice, she was no longer a viscountess, but rather the queen. Shaking his head he found the quill and began writing.
Lucien glanced over to see what he was referring to, then shrugged. "Presumably, but I daresay it's rather low on her priority list at the moment." Shifting his eyes back down, he worked his way through several more of the papers in the stack under the shroud of content silence. It was only several minutes after each of them had last spoken that he broke it again.
"It seems a rather odd time to ask, but... perhaps also the only time. How have you been lately?" The question itself was put almost too lightly; perhaps Lucien recognized that there were many ways it could be taken, and desired to allow Ashton freedom of construal. The ability to make it about whatever he felt inclined to discuss, and not about anything he wanted to stay away from.
Ashton glanced from up the letter he was in the midst of of and regarded Lucien for a moment. Yeah, yeah, of course he'd like to know. That was the type of person Lucien was, down to the gentle inquiry in which he'd let him choose his own answer. Ashton smiled, though it was tinged with melancholy. Time had managed to dull the pain, but he could never stop thinking about her. And perhaps he never would. Lucien was close to the both of them, and perhaps had been the closest to her. He deserved a real answer. "Better," he answered simply and tilted his head. "A lot better. The first few weeks after were..." he said, trailing off.
The first couple weeks had been the worst in his life. He felt useless and lost, not know where to go from there or even what to do. "Well, it wasn't pretty. The worst of my life, without a doubt. As I'm sure you could imagine," he added with a hurt smile. Lucien also loved someone, and just like Ashton, he bet he couldn't imagine trying to live without her--even if they did live apart. But... He had made a promise to her, and he was never the one to break his promises.
Lucien gave that a moment to sit, working through several more of the pages in front of him before he replied. "I know I said it in writing already, but... I am sorry. Nostariel was—" he grimaced, quite clearly searching for the words. "Entirely singular. It's good to know you're... coping. I don't know that I'd have the strength for that." His words were quite frank, though the tone in which he said them remained mild.
"I'm sure there's been a great deal to keep you busy, here; perhaps that's for the best. Sophia's written of the militia in some detail, but the Guard looks to be keeping well, also. Was there ever any talk of merging the two, or are the functions too distinct?" He didn't force the moment to linger, tactfully diverting the conversation to things more suited for the office. Perhaps he might have done otherwise, were they in the Hanged Man instead.
Ashton shook his head in the negative as he returned to the letter. "We aided in their training, but the militia and the Guard were always meant to be two separate entities," he explained, putting the finishing flourish on his signature, placing the completed letter off to the side for the ink to dry unperturbed. He took another page of letter head and found the name of the next recipient before he continued.
"The militia were meant to be citizens first, and soldiers second, you know. To be roused when the city was threatened, which seems like a running theme at this point," he answered with a tight-lipped frown. He hadn't heard the city-states of Starkhaven or Tantervale having the same issues they have had. "Meanwhile the guard is supposed to be a peacekeeping force, not real soldiers, though it's kinda hard to keep the peace when it's pissed off Qunari and Templars you're dealing with. At this point, I'd bet some of the older guys have as much experience as a soldier," he said with the shake of his head.
"Even if Sophia is a Queen now, the city is always going to need its guardsmen," he said with a smile. "We do a lot more than just guard after all. We also have to investigate the city's crimes and dole out punishments and fines-- difficult to integrate that into the militia," he said with a nod, dipping his quill back into the inkwell. "As you said, two entirely different functions."
"Sensible, though... a bit more difficult to make seem nonthreatening to one's neighbors. Still, I suppose after all of this, the justification of internal defense will turn out to be quite relevant." No doubt having a trained militia in the first place had made a substantial difference in the outcome of the siege, even if external relief had eventually been necessary.
Lucien shook his head, expelling a long breath. There was a kind of weariness to him, one that no doubt most everyone still going shared in. It was coupled with the same odd levity as had been present for several days now, though, making for an odd combination of things. Then again, Lucien was the sort who handled the more difficult emotions very privately, and took care to project confidence and kindness where anyone else was involved, as well as he could.
"How about yourself, Emperor? How are you holding up?" He asked, glancing up from the letter. It was a little poke of fun, but also a legitimate question, his way of asking if the throne was as uncomfortable as he imagined it'd be. Unlike Ashton, who still could go on his little adventures and forays through Kirkwall every now and then-- though in a far more official capacity-- he didn't see how Lucien could justify wading into the action as easily as he used to be able to. It mustn't have been easy for him, he'd always known Lucien to be the one waist deep in it ahead of them all. If he had to guess, he'd bet that throne chafed.
"You'll never hear me say I'm glad for a battle," Lucien said, smiling a little awkwardly. "But when I consider what I'd be doing right now if I were back in Orlais... I've missed the straightforwardness of hewing a path through a problem, much as I try to avoid it when I can." Certainly, his tendency to suggest the surrender was in full evidence still, but even that was probably a lot simpler than the sorts of things he had to negotiate now. "For the moment, it's trying to figure out who I can trust, and who I ought to bring into confidence. I don't mean to rule without plenty of advisors, and Rilien's rather busy running a spy network these days, as I hear it."
His smile widened just a moment, some humor entering his tone. "If you ever get tired of being Guard-Captain, I wouldn't say no to a bit more common sense in my council. The downside is you have to use manners even when someone's being... particularly obtuse."
Ashton chuckled lightly at that. "Ah yes, advisor of common sense and smart ass remarks. Surely I'd be most beloved in court. Or I'd find a bard's knife within the first week. Optimistically." He said, the smile still alive on his lips. He could already see himself dressed out in Orlesian finery and drinking fine wine. Well... No, he couldn't actually. Much like Lucien, he couldn't see himself standing away from the action at a distance. Of course, there's always times when he's called on to solve a murder or web of intrigue, but that was nothing like governing what was perhaps one of the most powerful nations in Thedas. When thought of in those terms, he couldn't help but find Lucien's throne all that more intimidating.
"Still, it'd be an exciting adventure if I ever decide to retire. But unfortunately, I think the city and Sophia need me most right now," he said with more earnest smile.
"Truthfully, I suspect you're correct," Lucien conceded readily. "And Kirkwall's all the better for your presence. I'd not want to tear you away merely due to my own selfish desire for sanity." Finished with his stack of documentation, he took up a blank sheet of parchment and a quill, to begin the task of summarizing the lot of it.
"Nah, you'll be fine," Ashton said, putting the finishing touches on the latest letter. "Were it anyone else, I'd be worried, but you?" Ashton said, finding the moment to raise and wag a finger, "I have faith in you. You'll be fine. But if you ever need anything, either as the Emperor, or just as plain ol' Lucien, all you ever have to do is let me know. My door is always open," Ashton said with a smile.
"It's much appreciated, of course."
She huffed and shook her head. "You're healed up enough, you're not useless," She noted. She hadn't been the only one who received lasting marks from the battle. A jagged wound hid just above his hairline, a secret to all until he pulled his hair up to show it off. That along with a numerous amount of other smaller injuries, some that would fade. Some that would not. Trying to keep his people safe and alive while they waited for help took its toll not only on him, but the rest of his guard.
The rest, he thought grimly, taking another look at the paperwork piled high on his desk. The siege had taken its toll on his guardsmen, and their force was greatly diminished. The first thing he tried to figure out when the fighting had died down was just how many of his men made it, and how many did not. The ones that did not, he would have to write letters of condolences to their families-- if their families had survived as well. It wasn't only the guard who suffered losses. The entire city suffered losses, from the nobles, to the militia, to even the civilians. Ashton planted a elbow on his desk and rested his head on it. "Could've fooled me," he answered.
A knock on the office door, already cracked open, preceded a new visitor, albeit one with a familiar face. Lucien carried what looked like another thick sheaf of parchments tucked under his elbow. "Afternoon, Ash," he said, smiling halfway but no further. It was grim work they were doing, but he'd seemed to be in a good mood the last few days regardless. The sort of happiness that was not easily dampened by circumstance. As yet, there'd been no indication why, beyond the obvious fact that he was once again in Kirkwall, face-to-face with many of his friends and of course Sophia.
He nodded politely to Vesper as well. "Lieutenant. I've got the final tallies from the civilian reports. I thought you'd want a copy for your records. And to cross-reference, for the letters." His mouth pulled a little to the side at that.
Ash sunk even lower into his elbow, but still somehow managed to shrug. "There should still be an open spot on this desk... Somewhere," he said, scanning from side-to-side. Eventually he sat straight in his chair, at least for all of a moment or two before slunk into the highbacked chair. This was an inevitable part of the process, but that inevitability did not mean he wanted to do it. Some of the names he recognized, and one or two he'd actually seen fall in battle-- and he helpless to do anything for them.
He shook his head and sighed, working up a smile for Lucien. He then gestured toward the open seat in front of his desk, "I hope its not too presumptuous of me to ask the Emperor of Orlais if he would like to lend a hand?" he asked. "Two hands are faster and one, plus hopefully the conversation will take my mind off of all... this," he said, gesturing toward the papers.
Lucien hummed. "I think perhaps the actual letters should come from you, but I can help with the lists, at least." He seemed to pay no mind to the Emperor part—it wasn't really in his nature to put too much stock in titles and the like. He used them when politeness demanded, but Ashton had never known him to insist on being addressed by any himself. Apparently that much had not changed, even as the titles grew more prestigious.
He eyes one of the larger piles of work—patrol reports, some of which included the names of discovered dead and the like. Halving them neatly, Lucien pulled a smaller table and another chair up to the far side of the desk and settled himself there. "You write condolences; I'll condense the rest of this as well as I can. I've had some practice." His tone was almost wry, dimmed slightly by exactly what he was condensing, no doubt.
Ashton regarded him for a moment before nodding in agreement. "I suppose you would," he answered. It did sound like the type of thing an Emperor would be well versed in after all. Ashton then leaned over in his chair and pulled out the bottom drawer in his desk, revealing among other items, a sheaf of paper with the Viscount's letterhead stamped at the top. He regarded for a moment before setting it down with the other sheaf. "Wonder if Sophia's gonna change that,' he noted absently. Since in practice, she was no longer a viscountess, but rather the queen. Shaking his head he found the quill and began writing.
Lucien glanced over to see what he was referring to, then shrugged. "Presumably, but I daresay it's rather low on her priority list at the moment." Shifting his eyes back down, he worked his way through several more of the papers in the stack under the shroud of content silence. It was only several minutes after each of them had last spoken that he broke it again.
"It seems a rather odd time to ask, but... perhaps also the only time. How have you been lately?" The question itself was put almost too lightly; perhaps Lucien recognized that there were many ways it could be taken, and desired to allow Ashton freedom of construal. The ability to make it about whatever he felt inclined to discuss, and not about anything he wanted to stay away from.
Ashton glanced from up the letter he was in the midst of of and regarded Lucien for a moment. Yeah, yeah, of course he'd like to know. That was the type of person Lucien was, down to the gentle inquiry in which he'd let him choose his own answer. Ashton smiled, though it was tinged with melancholy. Time had managed to dull the pain, but he could never stop thinking about her. And perhaps he never would. Lucien was close to the both of them, and perhaps had been the closest to her. He deserved a real answer. "Better," he answered simply and tilted his head. "A lot better. The first few weeks after were..." he said, trailing off.
The first couple weeks had been the worst in his life. He felt useless and lost, not know where to go from there or even what to do. "Well, it wasn't pretty. The worst of my life, without a doubt. As I'm sure you could imagine," he added with a hurt smile. Lucien also loved someone, and just like Ashton, he bet he couldn't imagine trying to live without her--even if they did live apart. But... He had made a promise to her, and he was never the one to break his promises.
Lucien gave that a moment to sit, working through several more of the pages in front of him before he replied. "I know I said it in writing already, but... I am sorry. Nostariel was—" he grimaced, quite clearly searching for the words. "Entirely singular. It's good to know you're... coping. I don't know that I'd have the strength for that." His words were quite frank, though the tone in which he said them remained mild.
"I'm sure there's been a great deal to keep you busy, here; perhaps that's for the best. Sophia's written of the militia in some detail, but the Guard looks to be keeping well, also. Was there ever any talk of merging the two, or are the functions too distinct?" He didn't force the moment to linger, tactfully diverting the conversation to things more suited for the office. Perhaps he might have done otherwise, were they in the Hanged Man instead.
Ashton shook his head in the negative as he returned to the letter. "We aided in their training, but the militia and the Guard were always meant to be two separate entities," he explained, putting the finishing flourish on his signature, placing the completed letter off to the side for the ink to dry unperturbed. He took another page of letter head and found the name of the next recipient before he continued.
"The militia were meant to be citizens first, and soldiers second, you know. To be roused when the city was threatened, which seems like a running theme at this point," he answered with a tight-lipped frown. He hadn't heard the city-states of Starkhaven or Tantervale having the same issues they have had. "Meanwhile the guard is supposed to be a peacekeeping force, not real soldiers, though it's kinda hard to keep the peace when it's pissed off Qunari and Templars you're dealing with. At this point, I'd bet some of the older guys have as much experience as a soldier," he said with the shake of his head.
"Even if Sophia is a Queen now, the city is always going to need its guardsmen," he said with a smile. "We do a lot more than just guard after all. We also have to investigate the city's crimes and dole out punishments and fines-- difficult to integrate that into the militia," he said with a nod, dipping his quill back into the inkwell. "As you said, two entirely different functions."
"Sensible, though... a bit more difficult to make seem nonthreatening to one's neighbors. Still, I suppose after all of this, the justification of internal defense will turn out to be quite relevant." No doubt having a trained militia in the first place had made a substantial difference in the outcome of the siege, even if external relief had eventually been necessary.
Lucien shook his head, expelling a long breath. There was a kind of weariness to him, one that no doubt most everyone still going shared in. It was coupled with the same odd levity as had been present for several days now, though, making for an odd combination of things. Then again, Lucien was the sort who handled the more difficult emotions very privately, and took care to project confidence and kindness where anyone else was involved, as well as he could.
"How about yourself, Emperor? How are you holding up?" He asked, glancing up from the letter. It was a little poke of fun, but also a legitimate question, his way of asking if the throne was as uncomfortable as he imagined it'd be. Unlike Ashton, who still could go on his little adventures and forays through Kirkwall every now and then-- though in a far more official capacity-- he didn't see how Lucien could justify wading into the action as easily as he used to be able to. It mustn't have been easy for him, he'd always known Lucien to be the one waist deep in it ahead of them all. If he had to guess, he'd bet that throne chafed.
"You'll never hear me say I'm glad for a battle," Lucien said, smiling a little awkwardly. "But when I consider what I'd be doing right now if I were back in Orlais... I've missed the straightforwardness of hewing a path through a problem, much as I try to avoid it when I can." Certainly, his tendency to suggest the surrender was in full evidence still, but even that was probably a lot simpler than the sorts of things he had to negotiate now. "For the moment, it's trying to figure out who I can trust, and who I ought to bring into confidence. I don't mean to rule without plenty of advisors, and Rilien's rather busy running a spy network these days, as I hear it."
His smile widened just a moment, some humor entering his tone. "If you ever get tired of being Guard-Captain, I wouldn't say no to a bit more common sense in my council. The downside is you have to use manners even when someone's being... particularly obtuse."
Ashton chuckled lightly at that. "Ah yes, advisor of common sense and smart ass remarks. Surely I'd be most beloved in court. Or I'd find a bard's knife within the first week. Optimistically." He said, the smile still alive on his lips. He could already see himself dressed out in Orlesian finery and drinking fine wine. Well... No, he couldn't actually. Much like Lucien, he couldn't see himself standing away from the action at a distance. Of course, there's always times when he's called on to solve a murder or web of intrigue, but that was nothing like governing what was perhaps one of the most powerful nations in Thedas. When thought of in those terms, he couldn't help but find Lucien's throne all that more intimidating.
"Still, it'd be an exciting adventure if I ever decide to retire. But unfortunately, I think the city and Sophia need me most right now," he said with more earnest smile.
"Truthfully, I suspect you're correct," Lucien conceded readily. "And Kirkwall's all the better for your presence. I'd not want to tear you away merely due to my own selfish desire for sanity." Finished with his stack of documentation, he took up a blank sheet of parchment and a quill, to begin the task of summarizing the lot of it.
"Nah, you'll be fine," Ashton said, putting the finishing touches on the latest letter. "Were it anyone else, I'd be worried, but you?" Ashton said, finding the moment to raise and wag a finger, "I have faith in you. You'll be fine. But if you ever need anything, either as the Emperor, or just as plain ol' Lucien, all you ever have to do is let me know. My door is always open," Ashton said with a smile.
"It's much appreciated, of course."