I...yes, help me stand, if you would. I must not appear...
[Whatever word might have followed that dies quickly on his lips. Wounded? Defeated? Weak? Any one would do, truly. But if he is to stand even the slimmest chance of prevailing upon the archbishop, he will not do it speaking as someone at the mercy of the church — not when Thordan VII is the church.
He draws a slow breath, grips tight to Haurchefant's arm. Nods slightly to him, urges them both forward.]
no subject
[Whatever word might have followed that dies quickly on his lips. Wounded? Defeated? Weak? Any one would do, truly. But if he is to stand even the slimmest chance of prevailing upon the archbishop, he will not do it speaking as someone at the mercy of the church — not when Thordan VII is the church.
He draws a slow breath, grips tight to Haurchefant's arm. Nods slightly to him, urges them both forward.]
Father!