[ 'An emperor is never safe', said Maia, and Geralt's expression of worry melted away into one of relief. He almost looked proud. ]
An emperor is never safe. But one who knows that fact is surely a little safer. It couldn't have been an easy lesson.
[ His brows arched, suppressing a smile. Gentling the tone of Maia's confession and the grim subject with dry humor. His mouth held a slanted smile; but his eyes were empathetic. ]
Or an easy birthday. But if nothing else, it opens plenty of doors for your future efforts at intimidation, with the vantage of a little time. Confiding to new courtiers that 'The best birthday present I ever got was a dead enemy', or something like that.
[ He rolled his shoulders and spread his hand, though, at Maia's observation. ]
It's... not resentment.
Or at least, not much of it. I'm old enough to have realized that it was just other men, doing what they thought they had to, pursuing a hard option because they felt there were no others available to them. That's the world, sometimes. Any world. There aren't many people who do evil just for its own sake, because they like hurting others. And those that exist, you can usually spot a long way off. All the rest? They're always the heroes of their own stories. Trying to commit necessary evils without being made evil by them. To harm the few to save the many, using whatever misguided lines of logic others have helped to grow in them.
The Witcher tradition is old, yes, and sacred, yes, but... mostly defunct, now. The continent's been ravaged by war for most of a century, and the bulk of us have been killed by one side or another. The old strongholds are mostly haunted ruins. Of my own order, there are only two others left, and we...
[ One of his broad and scarred hands moved, made a gesture of releasing, ]
no subject
An emperor is never safe. But one who knows that fact is surely a little safer. It couldn't have been an easy lesson.
[ His brows arched, suppressing a smile. Gentling the tone of Maia's confession and the grim subject with dry humor. His mouth held a slanted smile; but his eyes were empathetic. ]
Or an easy birthday. But if nothing else, it opens plenty of doors for your future efforts at intimidation, with the vantage of a little time. Confiding to new courtiers that 'The best birthday present I ever got was a dead enemy', or something like that.
[ He rolled his shoulders and spread his hand, though, at Maia's observation. ]
It's... not resentment.
Or at least, not much of it. I'm old enough to have realized that it was just other men, doing what they thought they had to, pursuing a hard option because they felt there were no others available to them. That's the world, sometimes. Any world. There aren't many people who do evil just for its own sake, because they like hurting others. And those that exist, you can usually spot a long way off. All the rest? They're always the heroes of their own stories. Trying to commit necessary evils without being made evil by them. To harm the few to save the many, using whatever misguided lines of logic others have helped to grow in them.
The Witcher tradition is old, yes, and sacred, yes, but... mostly defunct, now. The continent's been ravaged by war for most of a century, and the bulk of us have been killed by one side or another. The old strongholds are mostly haunted ruins. Of my own order, there are only two others left, and we...
[ One of his broad and scarred hands moved, made a gesture of releasing, ]
We're all agreed, to be the last.