Conlan's mouth shaped into a cock eyed frown, and he took a drink from his glass.
"I know you don't think that Ord. You're a good man, you are a great man, and you have your priorities in line a lot better then most of the people in the world, and certainly better then anyone else with a title." Con lifted his mug to his lips and drained it, putting it back tot he table now empty.
"And I don't think Hilda thinks of it that way either. Makers Breath, I don't even really think the stories are that bad, but... well sometimes they tear me up, like every word is a taunt, reminding me of how much I've failed to not actually be heroic." Conlan waved his hand, dsimissively and picked up the bottle to fill his glass again.
"But that's my issue, and it's not important, what is important, are the kids. Like... you and her, and me... some of the time, we fight because if we didn't people would die. That's why we fight. How many kids at Vigils Keep listened to her tell stories, and decided right then and there that they were going to go, raise and army to attack Orlais, all in the hopes that one day some lady with an enchanting voice tells their story?" Con slumped slightly.
"We're in a Blight... how many of us will make a glorious last stand, because that's how it plays out in the stories?" Con shook his head, and ragged a hand across his face.
"I'm sorry, I really, really don't mean to dump all over the things you think are important, and I'm saying this so that we can at least sort it out..."