"I daresay both sides might benefit from a look across the water," has the air of an idle remark, pleased enough as he is with this—not giving of ground, exactly, but certainly having found a footpath which promises less difficult going. He does, occasionally, tire of hiking up hill.
"I would be surprised to discover that any southern defector has avoided outright conscription. Some of your fellows may very well be on the other side of Starkhaven's wall as we speak."
Who knows. Had Riftwatch been engaged more directly with the Tevinter force rather than attempting to avoid the bulk of it, there might have been one or two faces to prompt recognition. —Is a grim thought, and prudently not one he gives actual voice to. Instead, Flint nods to the rough reproduction of the map in Marcus' possession, saying, "See that you study that and destroy it before your landing. I'd not have it fall into the wrong hands should something not go to plan."
An easier sort of neutral, here, seemingly unruffled at the suggestion of southern mages forced to participate in the battle that took the Grand Enchanter—at least, unruffled in Flint's direction. If there is some thought spared towards what could be said or done about it, how they might pry loose those mages somehow, or find some lever of advantage—
Well, best to break off now before one finds something else irritating about the other. The lingering pause that contains that thought is ended with a tap of the scrolls against his open palm in gesture—good talk—before turning to take his leave.
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"I would be surprised to discover that any southern defector has avoided outright conscription. Some of your fellows may very well be on the other side of Starkhaven's wall as we speak."
Who knows. Had Riftwatch been engaged more directly with the Tevinter force rather than attempting to avoid the bulk of it, there might have been one or two faces to prompt recognition. —Is a grim thought, and prudently not one he gives actual voice to. Instead, Flint nods to the rough reproduction of the map in Marcus' possession, saying, "See that you study that and destroy it before your landing. I'd not have it fall into the wrong hands should something not go to plan."
no subject
An easier sort of neutral, here, seemingly unruffled at the suggestion of southern mages forced to participate in the battle that took the Grand Enchanter—at least, unruffled in Flint's direction. If there is some thought spared towards what could be said or done about it, how they might pry loose those mages somehow, or find some lever of advantage—
Well, best to break off now before one finds something else irritating about the other. The lingering pause that contains that thought is ended with a tap of the scrolls against his open palm in gesture—good talk—before turning to take his leave.