[A flicker of surprise crosses Illarion's face as the questions--and more importantly, the tone, and what little of Vyng's body language he can sense--register. He wasn't expecting continued curiosity, clearly, in the face of that explanation. He nods mutely; the other man has the right of how they operated.
(This is something learned about himself, too, and his own motives and where they've gotten snarled up over the years. He can think about it, or he can shelve it with a promise to think about later and then never dig it up. Second one's far more appealing.)
He isn't left speechless for long, though, and gives a huffing little laugh at the appraisal of their name.]
We did not wish to lie to anyone, after all. It is much better if they cannot say we tricked them.
As for that... [As for the matter of turning jobs down... He tips his head down, as if he could stare at the sand beneath his toes, and rakes a hand through his braids in a universal gesture of discomfort.] There are many reasons. Pride is one, yes; a twisted kind, I think, to know we could do whatever we were called on to do.
Another is reputation--not so much that we cherished how we were thought of, [obviously not, given they'd taken on a role that basically guaranteed them animosity from every direction, however well they managed it,] as if we were seen as trustworthy in doing the worst jobs, then those wishing to commit greater horrors and thinking they could pay our prices, they would come to us. Sometimes, this meant we could avert a disaster, or blunt it. We were known best for war, but we had other methods. Often even the hateful were glad to be told they could have us for cheaper, if they followed our guidance to ending their wars.
[They had inserted themselves neatly into the entire engine of conflict for many nations under their jurisdiction, and they did have their triumphs. Sometimes.] Another is--we did want them to stop their wars, and find another way to live; we thought, if the consequences of war hit them all at once, and there were no spoils in it, they might be shocked to peace.
[Needless to say it hadn't worked.]
Even when it was clear that was not working, we could not change our course. It is not our oaths binding us by magic--it had been long and long since the Queen of Oaths yielded the Throne--as we became fixated. Somehow. I have not come up with an answer for how, only something trapped us. Something we had done to ourselves, that we could not even speak of.
no subject
(This is something learned about himself, too, and his own motives and where they've gotten snarled up over the years. He can think about it, or he can shelve it with a promise to think about later and then never dig it up. Second one's far more appealing.)
He isn't left speechless for long, though, and gives a huffing little laugh at the appraisal of their name.]
We did not wish to lie to anyone, after all. It is much better if they cannot say we tricked them.
As for that... [As for the matter of turning jobs down... He tips his head down, as if he could stare at the sand beneath his toes, and rakes a hand through his braids in a universal gesture of discomfort.] There are many reasons. Pride is one, yes; a twisted kind, I think, to know we could do whatever we were called on to do.
Another is reputation--not so much that we cherished how we were thought of, [obviously not, given they'd taken on a role that basically guaranteed them animosity from every direction, however well they managed it,] as if we were seen as trustworthy in doing the worst jobs, then those wishing to commit greater horrors and thinking they could pay our prices, they would come to us. Sometimes, this meant we could avert a disaster, or blunt it. We were known best for war, but we had other methods. Often even the hateful were glad to be told they could have us for cheaper, if they followed our guidance to ending their wars.
[They had inserted themselves neatly into the entire engine of conflict for many nations under their jurisdiction, and they did have their triumphs. Sometimes.] Another is--we did want them to stop their wars, and find another way to live; we thought, if the consequences of war hit them all at once, and there were no spoils in it, they might be shocked to peace.
[Needless to say it hadn't worked.]
Even when it was clear that was not working, we could not change our course. It is not our oaths binding us by magic--it had been long and long since the Queen of Oaths yielded the Throne--as we became fixated. Somehow. I have not come up with an answer for how, only something trapped us. Something we had done to ourselves, that we could not even speak of.