Crossroads

God's, this man was undoubtedly at the end of his tether, that much was clear. His burdensome tone alone spoke plenty for him, and the expression only further confirmed that there were some harrowing conflicts taking place within his head. Jericho gave a contrived 'tut, tut, tut' as his first initial retort, but the given speech had quirked a curious brow.

The words came rehearsed, lyrical almost, as if he had sung the phases to other interrogators more than once - as if he was trying to persuade himself as well as others that what he had gotten himself into wasn't as bad as it seemed. Jericho let his eyes cast aside, just for a moment, as the dismal words rolled themselves around his mind. He seemed stuck, lost within the guilt and bonds he had made to others, and going down a path of villainy (to Jericho, of course) that had been pathed for him by a reprobate non-mage with only her own goals in mind.

It hit him then, where it was he had seen this man before. Someone of his stature certainly wasn't a common sight in Ivras, and the thick accent matched that which had spoken from amongst the crowds during a rally for the archmage candidates. How curious that he'd changed his tune so quick, now he hadn't gotten his desired outcome... "Well then... It's a wonderful speech, but are you convincing me or yourself, hm?" The grin was meant to tease, test his patience or see if he truly was a violent man.


"I heard you talk before, at the rally, see. You seemed to oppose that vile woman all those months ago, yet here you are doing her dirty work. I've had friends suffer from your feeble-mindedness." A glance to his side and there sat another man with his head in his hands. His lips pursed; Fortunes sake, was there something in the air?

"Tell me, then, are all non-mages free of sin?" Jericho turned his attention back to Málmr slowly and took note of the sparkling golden eyes - a mage, perhaps? He would scoff here before continuing his own speech.

"And do they commit not their own atrocities onto the innocent? They paint us all with the same filthy brush, darling, frightened that we may cause trouble down the line. Any one of us in this room could kill, if they wanted. Mages just do it with a little more finesse." It wasn't a lie. Why mages should be locked away, hunted, tagged like cattle on the off chance that something may go wrong in the future made little sense - it wasn't just mages who caused pain and suffering, and yet every single one was wanted for something they'd likely never do. Were all non-mages suddenly unable to kill, too?

A tired sigh broke his moment of silence. Jericho didn't want to fight this man if there was even a minuscule chance that his mind could be settled on the right choice, but if he had gone this far for a friend already, what would make him turn around now?

"It isn't too late to make the right choice. A man like you... You could be such a boon to us, to your brethren. The mages need our help, darling. They need your help. She doesn't deserve you, don't you hear the way she speaks of us?" 


Another glance to the stranger who had ignored the food in front. "Dear me, a drink, perhaps, for the two of you? I cannot bear this melancholy any longer!" If Grace was on his side, this would work in Jericho's favour - he prayed, silent, that he too was opposed to Miriam's regime.