Finally. They should have a code word just between them that lets the other know they're serious so they can skip the fight before every important conversation. Nathaniel settles in for the long haul and considers Alistair's words carefully.
"That...is a good solution to the dilemma. A small party of volunteer scouts could move quickly. The people tracking him before weren't Wardens; we might come up with something they couldn't. If we don't, then the trail is well and truly cold. If we do, we could send more forces to back them up. Standard operation, but the location makes it especially dangerous. It's high risk, but it would put some questions to rest."
He hesitates.
"If we find nothing, or if we learn he is dead...you wouldn't have to do anything you didn't want to. But if you decided to step up, you wouldn't likely have to do very much differently from what you're doing now. There could still be a joint leadership, in practice. Your name would just happen to be mentioned in all the propaganda."
Propaganda. Right. That's what they were talking about.
Alistair rubs his eyes with his hand, punching in toward the bridge of his nose. His blighted name. He'd happily be eclipsed by Cousland for the rest of his life, outshone by anyone at all bright enough to make him invisible, if it meant never having to hear you're not what I expected again.
But if he's what they have, he's what they have.
"Let's see if we find him first," he says, dropping the hand from his eyes. "If he's alive and not hiding intentionally—" which doesn't sound like him, however bitter Alistair is; if he's alive he's being held against his will or is on the trail of something legitimately more important than Corypheus and the breakdown of the Order or... just hasn't heard the news, somehow. "—then he'll probably take his job back and the two of you can sort it out."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"That...is a good solution to the dilemma. A small party of volunteer scouts could move quickly. The people tracking him before weren't Wardens; we might come up with something they couldn't. If we don't, then the trail is well and truly cold. If we do, we could send more forces to back them up. Standard operation, but the location makes it especially dangerous. It's high risk, but it would put some questions to rest."
He hesitates.
"If we find nothing, or if we learn he is dead...you wouldn't have to do anything you didn't want to. But if you decided to step up, you wouldn't likely have to do very much differently from what you're doing now. There could still be a joint leadership, in practice. Your name would just happen to be mentioned in all the propaganda."
no subject
Propaganda. Right. That's what they were talking about.
Alistair rubs his eyes with his hand, punching in toward the bridge of his nose. His blighted name. He'd happily be eclipsed by Cousland for the rest of his life, outshone by anyone at all bright enough to make him invisible, if it meant never having to hear you're not what I expected again.
But if he's what they have, he's what they have.
"Let's see if we find him first," he says, dropping the hand from his eyes. "If he's alive and not hiding intentionally—" which doesn't sound like him, however bitter Alistair is; if he's alive he's being held against his will or is on the trail of something legitimately more important than Corypheus and the breakdown of the Order or... just hasn't heard the news, somehow. "—then he'll probably take his job back and the two of you can sort it out."