“Ah. Forgive me. I can see how that situation would be difficult to escape once it had begun.” Had the southern mages of ages past simply been so terribly docile, bound so easily by faith? The sympathetic casting potential alone – of allowing a phylactery to exist – was enough to give any magic-gifted Tevene fits and nightmares.
Imagine thinking one was safe at home, behind wards strengthened by generation after generations of your own family. A blood mage with your phylactery could use it to sneak a killing spell in. Something like Walking Bomb, if it spread as it was designed to do. Tiberius considered it, expression curdling as he counted in his head how many children and slaves and animals that even his low House had contained. Targets that had no magical defenses at all.
“And did you, Lyric? Steal your phylactery?” Maker forfend – if she were to become pregnant – and that seemed a likely outcome as a rather typical consequence of marriage … Tiberius groaned and threw his head back, staring up at the roof of the carriage for several seconds before squeezing his eyes shut. The demon horses made uneasy noises and picked up the pace.
“I think it must be destroyed at our first opportunity.” If it wasn’t already. He needed to get this thread of panic under control. He needed to think about literally anything else. What had they been talking about? Lyric fighting templars. That was a strange image. Tiberius hadn’t been able to get her to fight him at all, no matter what terrible thing he said. He opened his eyes and looked back at her, wan in the sunlight breaking through the wire lattice windows. She was looking out at the countryside, seemingly absorbed in her own thoughts.
“Did you really? Good. That’s good. You’ll need that strength in Tevinter. I’d expect they’ll want to interview us at the border.”
Imagine thinking one was safe at home, behind wards strengthened by generation after generations of your own family. A blood mage with your phylactery could use it to sneak a killing spell in. Something like Walking Bomb, if it spread as it was designed to do. Tiberius considered it, expression curdling as he counted in his head how many children and slaves and animals that even his low House had contained. Targets that had no magical defenses at all.
“And did you, Lyric? Steal your phylactery?” Maker forfend – if she were to become pregnant – and that seemed a likely outcome as a rather typical consequence of marriage … Tiberius groaned and threw his head back, staring up at the roof of the carriage for several seconds before squeezing his eyes shut. The demon horses made uneasy noises and picked up the pace.
“I think it must be destroyed at our first opportunity.” If it wasn’t already. He needed to get this thread of panic under control. He needed to think about literally anything else. What had they been talking about? Lyric fighting templars. That was a strange image. Tiberius hadn’t been able to get her to fight him at all, no matter what terrible thing he said. He opened his eyes and looked back at her, wan in the sunlight breaking through the wire lattice windows. She was looking out at the countryside, seemingly absorbed in her own thoughts.
“Did you really? Good. That’s good. You’ll need that strength in Tevinter. I’d expect they’ll want to interview us at the border.”
04-22-2024, 04:49 PM
