Whether the panacea or the touch is responsible isn't even clear to Alaric but he groans a little and lets his eyes drift shut for just a moment. He still has Anders' hand, though his grip is looser now. Not holding on in a serious way, just continuing to touch him.
"If it comes down to anything truly dire, I will. Otherwise the more ... removed I am, the pushier and more curious people will get. I'll manage it and I will accept your help - and company, where we can."
He tightens his fingers just a little. "Go get dinner."
He's kind of lost the desire to go anywhere near the dining hall. And he'll be fine.
He smiles softly and takes a private moment to appreciate just looking at Alaric. Not for his attractiveness, not for the clear comfort, but just...existing.
He leans in and kisses Alaric's cheek, squeezes his hand, then pulls back. "Just flash them a bit more of a smile, even if it's fake, it might help." He didn't doubt Alaric's mysteriousness was part of his allure, if even some part of him seemed approachable, ironically, he might be approached less. Maybe. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was time for Anders to start spreading his own rumors. It had been a while since he'd utilized the mill.
If not, maybe it would also result in him making... a friend, or at least friendly acquaintances. He should probably do that.
He grunts his agreement, inelegantly, opens his eyes and lets go of Anders hand to push away from the wall. "We're going to have rumors going about the pair of us if this continues." He doesn't care. It would position Anders to make claims about Alaric of any sort he wanted and, well, he also just isn't new to a lot of speculation and gossip about him.
But he heads toward the library and tables without elaborating, and waits on Anders there. Only once he's waiting does he realize he should, maybe, be clear that he didn't expect Anders to indulge him quite as far as he has.
"What else is new?" He waved off, the warning as he left and made his way to fetch their food. He expected there already were some anyway and he might start some of his own -about himself, about Alaric, about them together- whatever seemed most prudent. He'd think on it tonight and put it into place once he had good ones. If he could have templars knocking at walls in search of hidden passages for months, he could do this.
He retrieves their dinner with only a little brown-nosing needed (they were far more interested in getting him out of the kitchens once an elbow caught a mixing bowl during their rush) and returns to the library with two plates and a bottle of wine. He sets one plate down in front of Alaric before moving to the other side of the table to take his place. "Your dinner, Ser Morgan. Freshly pilfered from the kitchens. And a red! They won't miss it, I swear."
He flashes a smile as he works the cork from the bottle. No glasses, but he was sure they could manage.
"I meant for you to be able to eat your dinner, not that you needed to bring dinner to me." He feels bad about that and given that he is a spoiled noble that is likely saying something.
"Oh. Huh." He says it as mildly as though Alaric had mentioned it was raining.
He pops the cork out and hands the bottle over when it's reached for. "Oh well, it's done now, the food isn't going to eat itself, so I suppose you may wish to help it, hmm?" Anders dug into his own certainly, and took the bottle back for his own sip once it was free.
"I'd think you'd be used to having someone want to wait on you. Not that I'm servant in anything but my fondness for you, but still."
He doesn't take a sip, he takes a swig, but passes the bottle over when he has finished and picks up a fork.
"Servants aren't..." He doesn't know what word to use, there. "Service out of duty is not the same thing." Anders should know that. "It isn't... involuntary but it also isn't kindness."
When he's done, the bottle moves to the space between them to share. He raises a brow up at Alaric before returning to his plate. "No, I didn't figure involuntary, that would make it slavery. From what I know -granted not much- Gwynedd isn't Tevinter. Pretty sure they're the only ones where slavery is still legal." And being a mage, but nowhere was perfect.
"I thought servants were just workers. There's some in the tower too, those that aren't just the Tranquil. Simply paid to do their jobs. What makes 'out of duty' different? Other than sounding more fancy, I suppose." He did not, in fact know. There are no servants or slaves or vassals on a simple backwater farmer's lands. Especially not one born from the pride of the harsh Anderfels.
"A majority of the regular workers are simply workers, and they are all paid, regardless." He eats slowly, because he isn't really focused on his food this time and isn't just coming off heat. Also his appetite can just be an inconsistent and fickle beast.
"Duty comes into play because it is mutual. It is... an exchange of service. The nobility rules, but they also protect, manage, and arbitrate - and the king does for us. It simply moves up and down a ladder of responsibility, all the way to individual households and families."
Tiny pause and correction: "Ideally that is what it should be and often is. In practice, not always. Regardless of scope."
He sets his head against his knuckles as he considers that. "I suppose...the nobility here in ferelden is similar, the people make their products and the Bann gets some of those products, in return he protects the land. The Bann reports to the Arl, swears fealty to him and will defend and aid him if needed, in return the Arl tells the crown what the lands need." He shrugs and takes a bite of his food, tone largely irreverent when he speaks again.
"Seemed overblown and complicated to me: just a bunch of people with more titles than they know what to do with, often with far too much time on their hands. Ferrenly said half of them would barely know how to till a field if asked to. Still, I haven't heard of anyone bringing food to an Arl or anyone's table who wasn't simply a servant. Cultural differences, I suppose." That and people always claimed Fereldens were barbaric or backwards, so maybe they simply weren't doing it 'right' compared to every other kingdom.
"I've not the first idea how to farm," he says, mildly, "but I certainly know how to lead an army and use a sword from one." It's mild and there's a bit of a wan smile to go with it. "I had some friends amongst the 'staff', but most were somewhat wary of me and very young. At least when it comes to the people who were serving food."
He scoffs playfully. "Really? What a noble. Although...you're likely the only mage in the tower who knows how to use a sword, so there's that." He was impressed, even if he was bad at showing it.
Half his plate finished, he sets his dinner aside in favor of the wine and giving Alaric his full attention. "So...they were wary of you because of your magic? Or something else?"
He wasn't wrong, he also wasn't answering Anders' question.
Anders rests his jaw to his hand with a small smile. He shouldn't tease or rile, he shouldn't be a bastard...and yet, as easy as it was to be himself around Alaric, it was just as easy to forget to take that veneer off himself when he wore it all the time. If he even realized he was wearing it.
"Did I touch a nerve? It's a good thing, really! Someone pulls a sword out on you, you might even stand a chance against them. You're right: the only place tilling any earth comes in handy are in the pots in the garden and that's hardly the same. I do know how to stitch clothing back together, though, that's still practical." Especially when sometimes he had to apply it to skin. Luckily, not often.
He studies Anders' face and slowly gets his hackles down. He should know better than to take it personally or let it show.
Yet, somehow, that had gotten under his skin.
"Wary of my magic, in cases that it was known. Wary of my status and rank, or wary of rumors or just my strangeness in cases where my magic was not." Olive branch of an answer? Yes. Yes it was.
The tension in Alaric’s shoulders seem to ease in small measure and Anders’ small smile turns more genuine to match.
“Well, you don’t have to worry on any of those with me: I know your magic, rumors run more rampant than rats in a granary, I don’t care a fig for your status, and I find your strangeness charming.” Sadly or fortunately, his opinion wasn’t the only. He reaches for the bottle again as he asks: “How many others here know the extent of your magic?”
His brow raises as he takes a deep glup and replaces the bottle.
"Really? What of Irving?" Because he's the only one Anders actually worried about knowing. It's possible he did, it's also perfectly possible he maybe only pretended to and didn't know a thing. That happened often enough.
Anders nods. "Good. I hope it stays that way. Codger's clever but can't read minds or know everything, no matter how he acts. Besides, he has a whole tower of people to worry about, I doubt he'll even notice with how well you've been keeping your head down." Again, hopefully.
"That reminds me: I struck a deal with the kitchens: you should be able to collect your dinner from them without going to the hall, even if I'm not here."
He's sorely tempted to be vague and cryptic and see what Alaric comes up with on his own, especially since he's fairly certain the kitchens would do the same.
His smile is cheeky and leans forward a bit. "What do you think I promised them? What's worth bending the rules a bit to a group controlled by Knight-Commander Gregoir, I wonder?" Okay, maybe he's going to be a little bit of a jerk. For now.
"I can only imagine, and all of my imagination involves sex, or destruction of property." He has... perhaps not quite gotten a good idea of how things really work.
"Hm...a good guess. Though, perhaps less the destruction of property unless they wanted me to break into someone's office, I suppose." He shakes his head. "No, I didn't promise either, it would make you uncomfortable." He wasn't above such promises or deals, he also knew how these things worked all too often, but that sort of deal might end far worse for all involved if caught, there were simpler exchanges.
"Not all of my plants that were infected survived, so once the spare pots are cleaned of the infestation, I promised them and a very sunny spot in the garden to some herbs the kitchen is having trouble growing. They're apparently very expensive and they can't have them imported, so I agreed to trade some of my expertise and plant space to their needs in exchange for yours." He shrugs. "I'm fairly certain it's a drug of some sort, but I really don't care. You may have your quiet meals whenever you need."
He arches his eyebrows at the remark about being made uncomfortable.
Except it is absolutely and completely true so his attempt at looking disproving is highly ineffective.
The rest, though...
"That's very considerate and as trades go a reasonable one. Particularly since the kitchen having more herbs is likely to result in an improvement for all of us. That said I will try to face the dining hall upon occasion."
Probably rare occasion, but he will make an effort.
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"If it comes down to anything truly dire, I will. Otherwise the more ... removed I am, the pushier and more curious people will get. I'll manage it and I will accept your help - and company, where we can."
He tightens his fingers just a little. "Go get dinner."
He's kind of lost the desire to go anywhere near the dining hall. And he'll be fine.
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He leans in and kisses Alaric's cheek, squeezes his hand, then pulls back. "Just flash them a bit more of a smile, even if it's fake, it might help." He didn't doubt Alaric's mysteriousness was part of his allure, if even some part of him seemed approachable, ironically, he might be approached less. Maybe. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was time for Anders to start spreading his own rumors. It had been a while since he'd utilized the mill.
"Meet you at the tables near the library?"
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He grunts his agreement, inelegantly, opens his eyes and lets go of Anders hand to push away from the wall. "We're going to have rumors going about the pair of us if this continues." He doesn't care. It would position Anders to make claims about Alaric of any sort he wanted and, well, he also just isn't new to a lot of speculation and gossip about him.
But he heads toward the library and tables without elaborating, and waits on Anders there. Only once he's waiting does he realize he should, maybe, be clear that he didn't expect Anders to indulge him quite as far as he has.
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He retrieves their dinner with only a little brown-nosing needed (they were far more interested in getting him out of the kitchens once an elbow caught a mixing bowl during their rush) and returns to the library with two plates and a bottle of wine. He sets one plate down in front of Alaric before moving to the other side of the table to take his place. "Your dinner, Ser Morgan. Freshly pilfered from the kitchens. And a red! They won't miss it, I swear."
He flashes a smile as he works the cork from the bottle. No glasses, but he was sure they could manage.
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He looks startled because he is startled.
"I meant for you to be able to eat your dinner, not that you needed to bring dinner to me." He feels bad about that and given that he is a spoiled noble that is likely saying something.
Like maybe he isn't actually all that spoiled.
sort of.
Still reaching immediately for that wine though.
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He pops the cork out and hands the bottle over when it's reached for. "Oh well, it's done now, the food isn't going to eat itself, so I suppose you may wish to help it, hmm?" Anders dug into his own certainly, and took the bottle back for his own sip once it was free.
"I'd think you'd be used to having someone want to wait on you. Not that I'm servant in anything but my fondness for you, but still."
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"Servants aren't..." He doesn't know what word to use, there. "Service out of duty is not the same thing." Anders should know that. "It isn't... involuntary but it also isn't kindness."
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"I thought servants were just workers. There's some in the tower too, those that aren't just the Tranquil. Simply paid to do their jobs. What makes 'out of duty' different? Other than sounding more fancy, I suppose." He did not, in fact know. There are no servants or slaves or vassals on a simple backwater farmer's lands. Especially not one born from the pride of the harsh Anderfels.
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"Duty comes into play because it is mutual. It is... an exchange of service. The nobility rules, but they also protect, manage, and arbitrate - and the king does for us. It simply moves up and down a ladder of responsibility, all the way to individual households and families."
Tiny pause and correction: "Ideally that is what it should be and often is. In practice, not always. Regardless of scope."
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"Seemed overblown and complicated to me: just a bunch of people with more titles than they know what to do with, often with far too much time on their hands. Ferrenly said half of them would barely know how to till a field if asked to. Still, I haven't heard of anyone bringing food to an Arl or anyone's table who wasn't simply a servant. Cultural differences, I suppose." That and people always claimed Fereldens were barbaric or backwards, so maybe they simply weren't doing it 'right' compared to every other kingdom.
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Half his plate finished, he sets his dinner aside in favor of the wine and giving Alaric his full attention. "So...they were wary of you because of your magic? Or something else?"
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Defensive?
...Yeah.
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Anders rests his jaw to his hand with a small smile. He shouldn't tease or rile, he shouldn't be a bastard...and yet, as easy as it was to be himself around Alaric, it was just as easy to forget to take that veneer off himself when he wore it all the time. If he even realized he was wearing it.
"Did I touch a nerve? It's a good thing, really! Someone pulls a sword out on you, you might even stand a chance against them. You're right: the only place tilling any earth comes in handy are in the pots in the garden and that's hardly the same. I do know how to stitch clothing back together, though, that's still practical." Especially when sometimes he had to apply it to skin. Luckily, not often.
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Yet, somehow, that had gotten under his skin.
"Wary of my magic, in cases that it was known. Wary of my status and rank, or wary of rumors or just my strangeness in cases where my magic was not." Olive branch of an answer? Yes. Yes it was.
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“Well, you don’t have to worry on any of those with me: I know your magic, rumors run more rampant than rats in a granary, I don’t care a fig for your status, and I find your strangeness charming.” Sadly or fortunately, his opinion wasn’t the only. He reaches for the bottle again as he asks: “How many others here know the extent of your magic?”
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His look is flatly bemused. "No one here knows the full extent of my magic."
He doesn't sound like he plans on changing that, either.
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"Really? What of Irving?" Because he's the only one Anders actually worried about knowing. It's possible he did, it's also perfectly possible he maybe only pretended to and didn't know a thing. That happened often enough.
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Possibly yes, but the full extent... was a lot.
And he tried very hard to never, ever, allow that to be known.
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"That reminds me: I struck a deal with the kitchens: you should be able to collect your dinner from them without going to the hall, even if I'm not here."
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His smile is cheeky and leans forward a bit. "What do you think I promised them? What's worth bending the rules a bit to a group controlled by Knight-Commander Gregoir, I wonder?" Okay, maybe he's going to be a little bit of a jerk. For now.
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"Not all of my plants that were infected survived, so once the spare pots are cleaned of the infestation, I promised them and a very sunny spot in the garden to some herbs the kitchen is having trouble growing. They're apparently very expensive and they can't have them imported, so I agreed to trade some of my expertise and plant space to their needs in exchange for yours." He shrugs. "I'm fairly certain it's a drug of some sort, but I really don't care. You may have your quiet meals whenever you need."
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Except it is absolutely and completely true so his attempt at looking disproving is highly ineffective.
The rest, though...
"That's very considerate and as trades go a reasonable one. Particularly since the kitchen having more herbs is likely to result in an improvement for all of us. That said I will try to face the dining hall upon occasion."
Probably rare occasion, but he will make an effort.
"Thank you for doing that for me."
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