Madi nods absently about the tea — not because she's disinterested; it honestly sounds like it'll hit the spot right about now — and takes his hand, sinking into the seat beside him with a sigh and drawing his arm around her shoulders as she does. The Gallows is cold, and he is warm, and she is tired.
"I do not think there is any doubt among our company that Antivans value coin, and also coin, and above all else, coin."
It was a small taste of the irritation Flint and Silver both must be well acquainted with, the uphill struggle of trying to accomplish something or to make people see through a window when all they want to look at is a wall. It was a small taste, but enough to understand the feeling.
A hum of agreement. Yes, John has found this to be true. Has even known it to be true for longer than he has known Madi; there is a reason he had considered Antiva to be the optimal place to vanish once he'd had his share of the prize.
His thumb runs up and down her shoulder lightly as he leans forward to hook his own untouched mug and set it before her.
"We've had some dealings with the Merchant Princes," John tells her. "But they squabble among themselves. Convince one to do something and another will do the opposite out of spite."
Not ideal for forming a united front against a common threat.
"Was it a wasted effort?" he asks, gentle over the question.
"Not entirely," she says, "Though it may have been an exercise well suited to showing me how scattered everyone's priorities are. You would think that more of our number would see value in convincing the public before attempting to parlay with the princes."
It's a choice to answer that observation with a chuckle rather than a sigh. He leans back slightly from the table, the sweep of his thumb at her shoulder continuing without disruption.
"Are you planning to make your case for that?" is easier than trying to think of how to convince Riftwatch at large. He'd noted a few voices. Nikos. Byerly. The people he'd say they should speak to and draw in for any action the might take.
Hands splay in a gesture not unlike a shrug before Madi reaches for the mug and tips it slightly to peer into it. She tops it up from the teapot, then leaves it to sit, newly refreshed and still untouched.
"Flint thinks we should try to convince the Free Marches to enact a ban on Antivan goods, to make it clear that trade with Tevinter is not profitable in the long run. Whether or not we will be able to unify the Marches behind a singular purpose is yet to be seen, but it would be a mistake to speak only to city officials and not to the people that call the Marches home.
"The same goes for Antiva. If we speak to the princes without first speaking to their people, we run the risk of having our words twisted when they are relayed. If the general population knows what is at stake, by virtue of their numbers they will hold the princes accountable."
The drape of his arm across her shoulders shifts slightly, accommodating the motion before he readjusts and draws his arm back. It is more trade than parting; he catches her hand at first moment.
"Corralling the entirety of the Free Marches will be difficult," John says, though there's no censure in his tone. Difficult is a baseline, at this point. Everything they want to do is difficult. "But it's one way to put pressure on them. Maybe the only way, since from what I can gather most of them are preoccupied to complete uselessness by their wealth."
Even those that are likely sympathetic to Tevinter, rather than just lining their pockets.
"It's a good idea. You should take it to Rutyer, though I wouldn't lead with Flint's name, or mine."
That gets an arched brow in response, though she can guess why it would be unwise not to heed that advice. Madi's fingers lace with John's easily, a practiced motion by now. The soft pad of her thumb grazes his skin.
John thinks for a moment of a small hut, a fire, Byerly's hands working over arrowheads and the tip of his head as John asked a favor of him. A dream, but it was rooted in something, John suspects. He isn't sure where that impulse fits in here.
"I like him. I don't trust him," gets to the heart of the matter, perhaps nailing down what Madi had wanted to know from the start.
But then again, what does that really tell her? Who does John trust beyond her and Flint?
"He is devoted to Ferelden," John says, leaving it to Madi to decide what she makes of it. "More so than he is to Riftwatch, I believe. He's not an idiot, even if he chooses to comport himself as one on occasion."
John's fingers drum on the table, before he continues, "It would make our way here easier if he were to give Flint his support from time to time. But he's a suspicious man, and winning him over has been challenging."
Madi looks at John while he speaks, filing away any new information there is to glean from his words — which isn't much that she hasn't already determined on her own, but having his confirmation helps in some small way.
"Perhaps that is because he knows you are trying," she ventures. She is familiar with people who resist being won over when they're aware that that's what's happening. They both are.
"Does his devotion to Ferelden conflict with our aims? Do we know?"
"I could guess, but I don't think that will serve us."
Maybe it's a shrewd guess, maybe it's even correct, but they won't know for certain. His thumb runs gently over her knuckles and back.
"I think there need not be conflict," is a speculative thought. "Ferelden cherishes it's independence. There's some common ground there, but with Rutyer..."
It's not so simple as common cause. The man balks at things. John had seen his unease when they'd spoken of the Chantry, had taken note of his response in the wake of the abomination. And even without any of those aspects, there is the difficulty of how limited Byerly's view can be. John sighs, shakes his head.
"You have a plan? Or do you intend to feel your way through it? If the former, I want to know about it."
He should know, of course he should know that he isn't on his own. He has Flint, and has had him, as far as she knows, the entire time they've been here. But now he also has her.
Said with a hint of a smile, in spite of the nature of the question.
"We got on well in that dream," John reminds her. There had been a reason he'd gone to Byerly before striking out to meet Marcus. "I don't think an overture of friendship would be poorly received, but trust..."
One hand lifts, turning between them.
"Rutyer trusts no one, and Yseult has an advantage because of it."
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no subject
"I do not think there is any doubt among our company that Antivans value coin, and also coin, and above all else, coin."
It was a small taste of the irritation Flint and Silver both must be well acquainted with, the uphill struggle of trying to accomplish something or to make people see through a window when all they want to look at is a wall. It was a small taste, but enough to understand the feeling.
no subject
His thumb runs up and down her shoulder lightly as he leans forward to hook his own untouched mug and set it before her.
"We've had some dealings with the Merchant Princes," John tells her. "But they squabble among themselves. Convince one to do something and another will do the opposite out of spite."
Not ideal for forming a united front against a common threat.
"Was it a wasted effort?" he asks, gentle over the question.
no subject
no subject
"Are you planning to make your case for that?" is easier than trying to think of how to convince Riftwatch at large. He'd noted a few voices. Nikos. Byerly. The people he'd say they should speak to and draw in for any action the might take.
no subject
"Flint thinks we should try to convince the Free Marches to enact a ban on Antivan goods, to make it clear that trade with Tevinter is not profitable in the long run. Whether or not we will be able to unify the Marches behind a singular purpose is yet to be seen, but it would be a mistake to speak only to city officials and not to the people that call the Marches home.
"The same goes for Antiva. If we speak to the princes without first speaking to their people, we run the risk of having our words twisted when they are relayed. If the general population knows what is at stake, by virtue of their numbers they will hold the princes accountable."
no subject
"Corralling the entirety of the Free Marches will be difficult," John says, though there's no censure in his tone. Difficult is a baseline, at this point. Everything they want to do is difficult. "But it's one way to put pressure on them. Maybe the only way, since from what I can gather most of them are preoccupied to complete uselessness by their wealth."
Even those that are likely sympathetic to Tevinter, rather than just lining their pockets.
"It's a good idea. You should take it to Rutyer, though I wouldn't lead with Flint's name, or mine."
no subject
"What do you make of him? The Ambassador."
no subject
John thinks for a moment of a small hut, a fire, Byerly's hands working over arrowheads and the tip of his head as John asked a favor of him. A dream, but it was rooted in something, John suspects. He isn't sure where that impulse fits in here.
"I like him. I don't trust him," gets to the heart of the matter, perhaps nailing down what Madi had wanted to know from the start.
But then again, what does that really tell her? Who does John trust beyond her and Flint?
"He is devoted to Ferelden," John says, leaving it to Madi to decide what she makes of it. "More so than he is to Riftwatch, I believe. He's not an idiot, even if he chooses to comport himself as one on occasion."
John's fingers drum on the table, before he continues, "It would make our way here easier if he were to give Flint his support from time to time. But he's a suspicious man, and winning him over has been challenging."
no subject
"Perhaps that is because he knows you are trying," she ventures. She is familiar with people who resist being won over when they're aware that that's what's happening. They both are.
"Does his devotion to Ferelden conflict with our aims? Do we know?"
no subject
Maybe it's a shrewd guess, maybe it's even correct, but they won't know for certain. His thumb runs gently over her knuckles and back.
"I think there need not be conflict," is a speculative thought. "Ferelden cherishes it's independence. There's some common ground there, but with Rutyer..."
It's not so simple as common cause. The man balks at things. John had seen his unease when they'd spoken of the Chantry, had taken note of his response in the wake of the abomination. And even without any of those aspects, there is the difficulty of how limited Byerly's view can be. John sighs, shakes his head.
"I intend to try harder with him."
no subject
He should know, of course he should know that he isn't on his own. He has Flint, and has had him, as far as she knows, the entire time they've been here. But now he also has her.
puts hand over timestamp
Said with a hint of a smile, in spite of the nature of the question.
"We got on well in that dream," John reminds her. There had been a reason he'd gone to Byerly before striking out to meet Marcus. "I don't think an overture of friendship would be poorly received, but trust..."
One hand lifts, turning between them.
"Rutyer trusts no one, and Yseult has an advantage because of it."