Blue eyes landed on Ermir the moment he appeared from the back room and made his way over to the bar. They watched as he began cleaning it as if nothing was wrong, which he knew - he knew - was necessary to keep their cover, but that didn’t stop him from clenching a fist under the table like the way he clenched his jaw against the scream that wanted to spill out. Embric tore his eyes away from the other man before he could do something stupid, like walk up to him and shake some sense into him.

“Was it.” The words were icy as his fiery anger solidified into something colder. He knew enough of the previous plans to have heard of some sort of disturbance at Tribute, but he’d been under the impression that the exact sources of such disturbances would have been hidden by the crowd. “Was it something that needed to be done, just like that.” He did not think Aine’s mind voice adequate for communicating the depth of his anger, but needs must. “You could have died, Ermir.” If he had been speaking out loud, his voice might have cracked as anguish over that possibility broke through his anger. Aine did her best to relay the emotion. “There is a difference between a strategic strike and - and that!” He forced himself to take a deep breath and lean back in his seat to feign nonchalance for anyone who might be watching. “They were all right there! What if they hadn’t believed you? They would have tortured you to death, made an example of you, for daring such a thing. You would have left your daughters behind, and for what? A fire show?”

“Yes, I do know that,” Embric snapped back, now forcing himself to unclench his fist. With one hand, he traced the edge of the table, focusing on the feel of the wood beneath his fingertips to try to distract himself from the frigid anger that had settled in his chest. “They don’t need any reason to kill us, which is why I don’t go around actively giving them one.” That the Eldouir knew about, anyway. But that was the point: to stay hidden, to stay underground and survive until they could mount a proper rebellion against their red-headed captors. “Listen to yourself! Are you truly arguing that your death doesn’t matter because you could die at any given moment anyway?” Embric couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to the bar where Ermir stood. “It’s not the fact that you did something, Ermir; it’s the way you went about doing it.” After a moment, he tore his eyes away and directed his attention toward the door.

“You could have stayed within the crowd, let Luka handle whatever— whatever that was, and given them no reason to single you out for it. Instead, you planted a target on your back, putting yourself in unnecessary danger for very little, if any, gain.” His fingers ran along the edges of the table again. “Can you not see how foolishly reckless that was. How many different ways it could have gone wrong, and we would have lost you and gained nothing.” He took a breath. “And I would just as soon not lecture you if it meant you weren’t going around asking to be killed. You know why I’ve been staying apart. We both have jobs to do, and those jobs only get done if we are alive to do them.“

‘I'm not asking to be killed.’

You could have fooled me.

But he was beginning to think he was fighting a losing battle. Embric knew very well that they would likely die some horrible death for acting against the redheads, but if he was to die from his own actions, then it would be in support of something that caused actual damage. Like getting close enough to take one of the monsters with him, not to get a brand that could be earned in a less dangerous way. There was a difference between a high risk, high reward strike that actually got them closer to freedom and a high risk, low reward reckless act of desperation, and Ermir could not - or would not - see how the stunt that he had luckily survived fell solidly into the second category.

“It’s easier to face death when its your own and not that of a loved one,” Aine privately pointed out to Embric, soothing some of his helpless anger and frustration. “You know that’s why you haven’t told Xan about anything.”

Right. He needed a drink, if only because there was only so long he could skulk in the corner of the tavern without one before it became noticeably odd. Pushing himself up from the table, he rose to his feet and took a breath before making his way over to the bar. He let his hands rest for a moment on the wooden countertop, forcing his fingers to relax rather than clench into a fist. “Hey Ermir,” Embric said doing his best to sound normal. “Can I have one of whatever’s on tap?” He half expected to get the dregs of whatever was left, but he wasn’t sure if Ermir was that vindictive.

While he waited, he offered, voice flat, his final piece on the matter: “I had already watched one of my daughters get dragged away with Tazmin at Hiram Eldouir’s bidding. Immediately after, I thought I would have to watch as my friend was tortured to death in front of me for attempting a stunt that he hadn’t even bothered to warn me about in the first place. I think I am entitled to a little lecturing.” A long moment, and then, because he enjoyed lecturing about as much as Ermir enjoyed being on the receiving end of one, Embric extended something of an olive branch. “Did you get everything you were hoping for?”

“That would be much appreciated.” Strong was good. After the nightmare of the past month on top of the general nightmare that was merely existing in Elderkeep, he felt like he needed the strong stuff more than ever. Ermir delivered the drink, and he took a swig, feeling the burn chase away some of the cold that had settled in his veins. At the mention of the new supplies, his friend spat on the floor in disgust. Embric understood the sentiment entirely.

He should have expected Ermir’s surprised confusion in response to what Embric belatedly realized would have been quite the revelation, but his mind had been little else than a maelstrom of helpless desperation and impotent anger. Something like exhaustion crashed over him and overwhelmed, at least for now, the glacial fury that had started to recede. “Not like— I didn’t father her, Ermir,” He felt the need to clarify, just in case the man didn’t realize for himself that Embric, though older, had still been a child when Xan had been born. After so many years in Elderkeep, with parents keeping their children close, Embric suspected the traditional Dresmondi views on family had begun to transform into something far more literal.

Turning away from the tavern owner with a nod and a word of gratitude, he made his way back to the table in the corner and sat down heavily in his seat. Arms resting on the table, he took another swallow of liquid courage. “We knew her from before,” Embric told his drink. “She and Savi use light, like we do. We taught them how to use their magic from the very first day, and she became one of my own. A big sister to Kasni and— and my son.” He couldn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned the boy to Ermir before, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t. Those were painful memories, and there was no need to speak of him, not when he’d been lost to the earth like so many other Dresmondi children. Perhaps today was to be the day of revelations for Ermir. Embric found he didn’t much care. A long swig of his drink did its best to chase away the heartache, with only moderate success. “We were separated when Coheed attacked.” That felt like ages ago. “Neither of us realized the other one was here until a shortly before Tribute.” When they had crossed paths, neither of them had been naive enough to promise each other that everything would work out fine, but they had both sworn that this coming year would be different, better, now that they had reunited. Then Tribute happened.

And nothing he or anyone could do could ever make up for that.

He should have known, he thought darkly. Elderkeep giveth, and Elderkeep taketh away. It had always been like that, stringing everyone along with the slightest hint of hope, just enough to remind them why they kept struggling to survive, only to snatch it from them a heartbeat later. Why would the discovery of Xan’s and Savi’s survival be any different?

Ermir may have been wrong about many things, but Embric knew he was correct about this one. “You’re right,” He conceded. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry.” But that doesn’t mean you should have done what you did at Tribute. But the proverbial olive branch had been accepted, so he would let the matter drop for now. Maybe he could get Ermir to listen if he didn’t scream at him first. Embric sighed into his drink when the other man answered his question, laying bare his goal. “I know,” He said, quiet. “You’re good at it.” But he knew to Ermir, it would likely never feel like he could do enough to help. Not while Elderkeep still stood.

“It would be easier to talk through if I was included in the conversations from the start,” Embric couldn’t help but point out, tone mild despite the irritation that jolted through him at being called ‘pissy’. As if Ermir had done nothing deserving of his ire and Embric had merely decided to throw a tantrum like an unreasonable child. Staring at his drink, he took a deep breath and shoved the frustration aside; it would do nothing other than drive him to turn this semblance of a conversation back into a shouting match. And he knew that, right now, no matter what he said, Ermir would just brush his anger aside with the same infuriating, hurtful carelessness - because he knew Ermir, and when the other man had his mind set, it took a damn miracle to change it. And if Tribute, if Xan proved anything, it was that Embric was clearly out of miracles.

For a moment, he sorely wished that they were alone so he could properly rage at his friend. At least then he could have the satisfaction of releasing the scream that was starting to build once again.

With more effort, he forced himself to take another deep breath, down another swig of the strong stuff, and relax his shoulders. Ermir was his friend. In the end, they shared the same values and goals. Like the other man said, they both just had to hold it together until Zevran returned. If he returned. “You haven’t heard anything from them, have you?” Embric asked, though it was clear that he expected a negative answer. If any of them had heard anything from their missing compatriots, no one else would need to ask. In response to Ermir’s hope, Embric glanced over to the bar and raised his drink for another sip, pausing ever so slightly in the middle of the motion. Cheers to that, Ermir.

Embric accepted Ermir’s words in silence, letting out a quiet sigh as the other man pointed out that only the two of them were left to walk freely through Elderkeep. “I’ll find a way to reach out to Luka once everything’s settled down.” It would be difficult with her so far out of Elderkeep and deep within the Eldouir stronghold, but with a little creativity, perhaps it wouldn’t be impossible. He wasn’t quite sure what story she had told the redheaded monsters after presenting herself at Tribute, but he knew it wouldn’t be safe for either of them to be seen together, let alone in any friendly manner. Venturing out under the cover of darkness would likely be safest, but it would also be harder to explain if they were caught; having Zevran and Rune here would have been incredibly helpful.

Speaking of… Embric glanced over as Ermir poured himself another drink and tossed it back. “Wishful thinking,” He said, as if either of them were foolish enough to truly sustain such optimism. He wondered again if Zevran and Kezia had even made it to their destination, let alone had an audience with the king. “Do you trust those two - Grant and Alys, you said they were called? - to convince their kingdom will help us?”