Greeked Text

beau and caleb: *with tears in their eyes* "we don't know much about it, we only know that (facts about that thing that even other scholars find impressive). we wish we knew more 🥺"

the rest of the nein: "that's alright. you've been a great help! let's make a plan-"

It takes me a minute to get specifically to this theory, so bear with me.

Originally, the idea that there would be a Sundered House ritual at the theater stemmed from the worry that Thjazi was (unwittingly) doing the work of the Sundered Houses because he was tricked or his work was compromised (24: Good Tidings; 24: Good Tidings):

On top of this, there's a general sense throughout Schemers of uncertainty over Thjazi's intentions and methodologies and how ruthless he may or may not have been and a general sense of paranoia—"Look at you, you're paranoid, I'm so proud of you"; "Too paranoid or not paranoid enough?"; the above "Not paranoid enough is its own trap"—from the Schemers, who generally felt pushed to question every action the players in this game have taken. To quote Bolaire this latest episode (28: Chasing Shadows), they feel that they're only pawns in Thjazi's game, not players themselves taking up his work.

I feel like this is generally the backdrop under which Murray / Marisha is thinking and theorizing. There's a groundwork for a belief here in Schemers that Thjazi and rituals of House Tachonis are connected in some way, that Thjazi was taking rather ruthless and unsavory approaches to everything, and that all plots and actions from all players should be approached with suspicion. It's an environment that's really specific to the Schemers table, a la the genre whiplash joke earlier in Convergence. I personally feel that this is the root of a lot of the frustrating theorizing that the Schemers table, largely through Murray (though this is not limited neither to her nor to her table), has brought to Convergence that's seen a lot of commentary. Specific ideas came up in Schemers that stayed around long enough to become sticky enough that their residue remains even after the core idea is disproven by new information or context in Convergence. Portions of an earlier logic are shed under new information, but auxiliary ideas or conclusions further down the chain continue to linger even without the original presumptions that gave rise to them.

On to the theory of the hour, Murray states that her reason for pitching the god-Thjazi idea as: "It seems like a lot of what Thaz was trying to do was thwart what was to come by trying to get there first. So why wouldn't he think that he could step into this role if it meant that a celestial Tachonis god of undeath is the alternative." Now, on its face, I think this is fairly reasonable logic for what is, well, I agree, a left field theory. However, I think the crux of this logic has been overturned by now.

This idea, specifically as framed in the second sentence, that Thjazi was working to subvert House Tachonis's machinations specifically by enacting these rituals before they can feels disproven by what we've learned in Convergence about the nature of the paints, the relationship of "making plowshares" to magic and magical objects, and Occtis's realization that the only connection between the plans of Thjazi and House Tachonis is the Stone of Nightsong. The Cloak was maximizing their limited resources by stealing items the Sundered Houses were interested in or poking around their work sites, which is in line still with part of what Murray said. However, we know that Thjazi and the Cloak were transforming objects against their original purpose: the paint rendered from the River Gavizdra is the inverse of what it was meant for, hence why it is a photo-negative of another method through the afterlife (the Stone of Nightsong). A massive element of the Cloak's work is to reshape these objects into another purpose, as Thaisha goes to do with the Pariah Blades and sees Shadia has already done so, and thus implicitly their work is to use the tools that interested House Tachonis and use them for different rituals to achieve work that ultimately works against the goals of House Tachonis. It is perpendicular to the methodology of House Tachonis, who use and profane similarly old means for their own ends where that desecration is not making inverse nor creating entirely new purpose—the intent is simply a few degrees off and enacted by only some adjustments to what is otherwise the original ritual.

That is to say, I think this distinction was lost while Murray / Marisha is trying to problem solve Thjazi's goals here even under new context concerning why he has a couple of tools in common with House Tachonis (the Stone, the coffin as mentioned in a Tannesar letter) and what Thjazi's methodology is (inversion), one that we see is vastly different from House Tachonis. That residue of an earlier idea remains: that Thjazi pursued the same tools thus must have been looking to enact the same rituals with the same ends as House Tachonis to lay claim to those ends first. It not fit that new context of reforging tools to serve new purpose and create new magic as a sword to plowshare, but the weight of that sentiment lingers anyway.

This is where this god-Thjazi theory is born from, because this isn't the first time she floated the idea that someone is trying to bring back a god. She previously pitched this as a possibility that House Tachonis is doing so (24: Good Tidings):

The timeline:

Two episodes ago, Azune approaches Murray about the upcoming Einfasen meeting. Already nervous. Terrified. He needs all the evidence he can bring against Tachonis. The moment he mentions needing to ask Demodus to come as a witness, Murray flips from ‘I’ll help how I can’ to a scene-long spiel of veiled how dare you endanger this child sanctimony, insistence that Azune’s so good at this, he can’t stop lying now, dangling ice cream as a consolation prize if Einfasen doesn’t kill him, and poetic babble about how his pretty sunset eyes mean he’s still innocent et cetera et cetera. Only for Marisha to confirm on Vaelus’ insight that Murray 100% knows that Azune is right but ‘That doesn’t matter right now.’

Eventually, after Vaelus steps in with actual words of connection to Azune—showing up an entire speech in 2.5 sentences—Murray caves enough to say she’ll talk to Demodus. While still talking to Azune like she’s deigning to let him borrow some forbidden treasure, she’s going to be glued to his side to make sure you don’t fuck this up for him, Azune.

We move to the meeting with King Gus. Lots of good moments. Murray donated an important portent and won Gus as a solid ally! Nice!

And then we get to this recent episode, where Gus asks Murray:

Gus: “You’re not a sorceress, are you?”

Murray, immediately disgusted: “No, everything I have I’ve worked my ass off for.”

Gus, slowly: “I wouldn’t have known that that’s not true.”

Fast forward to Azune and Murray heading over to talk with Demodus. She tells Azune she’ll do the talking, Demodus trusts her most, he’ll see Azune as ‘stranger danger’. Azune, who was also there in the sewer, helping in the rescue mission. Azune, who Demodus himself gawped at with googly eyes and conjured an illusory knight for to help in battle.

Murray: “I trust you, Azune.”

Azune: “I know. I know.”

Murray: “You’re my best friend in this whole cursed fucking world. If you ever do anything to betray that trust, I swear to god.”

Azune: “There you are again, talking to me like that way that I told you you do sometimes. Like I’m a part of something that you know I’m not.”

Murray: “Trust keeps people in danger.”

Azune: “If you say no, I won’t take him.”

Murray: “You’ll help me get him out of the city after this?”

Azune: “I will.”

Murray: “You promise?”

Azune: “I promise.”

Murray: “Skepticism keeps people alive. Let’s go.”

Said by a bursar who’s been behind a desk for decades and started actively scheming a week and a half ago, to the young man who’s been living a double life since he was a teenager.

They get to Demodus. Murray ‘Let me talk to him’ Mag’nesson offers her sweet honey bear:

Murray: “Listen to me, you are going to be able to get out of this apartment. I’ve got a plan for you tomorrow. You are going to go away tomorrow. I need you to pack all of your bags.”

Demodus: “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Murray: “You do now. But we need one more favor from you.”

Demodus: “You got it. Whatever you need.”

Murray: “Azune?”

Hot-potatoing the talk immediately to Azune himself, as though hoping (expecting) him to fumble it. Instead, Azune brings up the need for testimony and…

Azune: “Demodus, are you brave enough—”

Demodus: “Yes.”

Azune: “—to be with us.”

Murray: “Listen to the full proposition before you—"

Demodus: “I thought you were done talking.”

Azune goes on to be as explicit as possible about how dangerous the situation is. How potentially fatal. He can’t just let Demodus march into the lion’s den without clear eyes. The way Murray was fine to let him do solo before being embarrassed into budging on Demodus.

We get to the Stahlkeep. Azune adds some Einfasen to his face. Presents his evidence, Demodus included. This, combined with whatever Harondus has already told his house of him, powers that glorious Nat 20, and Lord Otto himself pours on the commendations. Murray and Demodus are dismissed before all of it comes out.

Demodus: “If you ever need anything, or if a bunch of demons attack tonight, I’ll make sure that whatever I do in Timmony—”

Murray: “You’ve done enough.”

(You can’t stop now, Azune. You’re so good at this.)

In the midst of the big departure, Murray misses the rest of the meeting. Captain Nayar gifted a new weapon, the symbol of House Einfasen, all laced through with half-joking insinuation of relation and queries about the source of his sorcery.

And we’re left to wait on the fallout when Azune inevitably brings this to Murray’s attention. The I-told-you-so of it all, see how good you are at this, Azune? The villains see one of their own in you! A fellow sorcerer, practically family, ha ha

Maybe it’ll be papered over. Ice cream and all. Or maybe it’ll finally be the thing that takes the lid off the whole mess that’s been simmering under the surface since the moment Azune mentioned Demodus at all.

More, an issue that has clearly come up again and again in their relationship, as Azune clearly clocked it well enough to mention it to Murray down in the sewers. His fear that Murray’s view of him might be stained by the institution he’s a plant in. (No, no, she could never hate him! It’s all in his head! He’s a good egg!) But this whole bit of the story arc has proven that even if Murray doesn’t think she lied then, she definitely wasn’t telling the truth.

Because the thing is, no, I don’t think the institution—be it the Arcane Marshals or House Einfasen or any other labeled faction—is the problem.  

It’s the sorcery.

I think it’s always been the sorcery.

Demodus doesn’t have two copper to rub together!

Azune came from a village so blasted and destitute it’s possible they didn’t even have currency anymore. They shared hovels and starvation. Azune and Mayali probably only encountered money for the first time when the mercenaries came to harvest some children.  

Everything I have I busted my ass for! The way all wizards do! The way my good little children students of 20+ years do! Unlike all those nepo baby sorcerers.

Azune was born into below-poverty living, starving every day of his life until age twelve. At which point he and his thirteen-year-old sister were swept into a war to avoid said starvation at the cost of their own parents’ lives. He was a soldier until he was sixteen, meaning Thjazi and the Torn Banner kept him on the battlefield until the very very end of the Falconer’s Rebellion, at which point Thjazi handed over a teenage veteran to his brother who had two kids the boy’s age. Not when he was twelve. Not when he was thirteen, fourteen, fifteen (bleeding to death and forgotten in the mud as the wyverns came down). From age sixteen to his hiring in the Arcane Marshals, he lived on another family's couch.

These rich bastards are trying to take over my school!

Said the woman who comes from a family with a well-known name, formerly big money, now moderate money, with a mouth full of jewels and one hand on a university’s purse strings, who accepted a teenage war vet when Thjazi Fang passed him into her mentorship as a favor. Not on the books, we can guess. Azune came from a void of education. King Gus had to sneak out of the dog kennel to creep into the house and learn his letters. Did Azune's home have any books to its name, any starving teachers? When and how did he get to learn his letters? What schooling did he have, if any, before Murray took him on as a side gig? Obviously on the side, because while the students of the Pentevral might need financial aid, they would at least have some kind of record of living and/or schooling prior to that, unlike the youth from a dead village and a boyhood spent at war.

It’s all in your head. I could never hate you, Azune.

Because Azune’s not just a good egg, not just a boy scout, but ‘one of the good ones.’

Who never questions her. Never doubts her. Champions every feat she accomplishes. Soldiers up and silences himself when he dares to ask for permission to speak with one of her (real) students (who actually matter) about testifying and she purges all the excuses and platitudes he already suspected were coming, swallowing it down as he has likely swallowed so much more in the length of their friendship. Drinks and knife-throwing lessons when he was just budding out of adolescence, being shined up and sharpened for Thjazi’s needs, both mentors knowing all along they were handing him over to the Arcane Marshals to be a useful plant for the rebels at age…what? Twenty? Nineteen? Doesn’t matter.

Murray knows he’s right. But that doesn’t matter right now.

Because for all that she cares about him, for all that she’s had his back in scheming and battle, the fact remains: Azune Nayar wields sorcery. A form of magic so entrenched in Murray’s mind as being the stamp of Sundered Houses and upper-class power, that when that trait appears in an individual whose every single fact of lived history not only aligns with the level of scrappy, do-it-yourself, pull up by the bootstraps origins she champions, but wildly outclasses them in terms of sheer horror, trauma, and destitution, none of it matters.

Azune being a child soldier. Azune living two thirds of his life in varying levels of constant starving malnutrition. Azune being actively molded by every person in his life with a constant stream of speechifications and attaboys to keep him living as a useful thing, with not one person, including his parents who sacrificed everything to get him a sword and a meal, telling him his life was worthwhile for its own sake; that he didn’t have to fight for others’ causes, that he deserved access to joy and safety and comfort like all the people he was told to fight and lie and kill and die for.

Doesn’t matter.

Azune reveals his sister was the faux assassin for Photarch Yanessa. Murray latches onto him, insisting she must be found, she must speak out against House Halovar and vouch for Murray’s testimony. Azune asks her if he can ask Demodus to come as a witness before the Einfasens. How dare he? This could ruin the kid’s life. Now get in the lion’s den, friend, you’ve got this.     

Doesn’t matter.

Azune, who she has known for at least a decade, who she tutored after a life of combat and not a single classroom or unbroken roof to speak of, who has proven himself over and over and over again to be trustworthy to his friends and venom to their enemies…

 Doesn’t matter.

You’re my best friend in this whole cursed fucking world. If you ever do anything to betray that trust, I swear to god.

Trust doesn’t have shit to do with it. It isn’t even the same brand of constant fumbling of care that every other peer has exhibited in Azune’s life when it came to reducing him to a utility with a face. The math in Murray’s head boils down to Azune is a sorcadin sorcerer -> Sorcery is a hallmark of the Sundered Houses and high society rich bastards -> Sorcery is bad -> Sorcerers are bad -> Azune is only my friend as long as he stays within the lines I’ve drawn around him

And oh, but those lines are cramped and crooked.

He’s an equal and a peer among the Schemers, expected to always punch above his weight class, so competent, so good at what he does, him and his lists and his proactive work and his battle prowess and his finessing of villains, 10/10

Unless he isn’t. Unless he’s a lost little boy scout (who is also too useful to the mission to stop now) who only needs a pep talk and a tissue and an ice cream party to get his ass out the door and away from daring to think of including her helpless 22-year-old sweet honey bear baby boy grad student in his evidence. If Azune dies, he dies. But he’ll probably be fine. He’s so good at this. Any sorcerer would be. And if he isn’t? Well, that’s one less sorcerer.

And now. Now, after she watched him physically alter himself to better assimilate with their enemies, after she’s about to learn of his promotion, his new weapon, his successful absorption into House Einfasen as their own official mole to infiltrate the Candescent Creed and House Halovar, how much bigger will this bias grow in her? When will the inevitable hit, with Azune joining Thjazi in her realm of ‘suspect and accuse first, ask questions later?’ What scene will we have, to Azune’s face or behind his back, Murray ruefully shaking her head…

It’s just. He’s so good at it, isn’t he? I swear I meant it as a compliment before, but now I’m worried that he’s too good at it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he really was part of the houses. Best to keep a close eye on him.

And in the face of that, what will Azune be able to say? What reaction can he possibly have that doesn’t dig the hole deeper in her eyes?

He’s been meek to her. He’s been in awe of her. He’s been a wreck in front of her. He’s never, not once, raised his voice against her. The most he’s ever done is point out that—for all she swears he’s her best friend—she still talks at him like someone she doesn’t trust, someone who’s part of a thing she hates. Even after all this time.

Azune is trying so hard to be seen as ‘one of the good ones.’ A good soldier. A good Schemer. A good thing person. ‘Sorcerer’ has never been on his mind as an identity. Sorcery’s just a thing he has, despite coming from a commoner family. And so I wonder if, in light of that moment shared with King Gus, Azune might be zeroing in on that factor for the first time. Finally seeing the invisible box Murray’s put him in to explain why she treats him the way she does.

I don’t know if he’ll be able to bring it up to her. I’d hope so. It would be the most cathartic version of that confrontation. This young man, standing so clearly as a symbol for the unfair position of those left othered by their heritage in a place not their homeland, forced to assimilate to have any chance of survival, forced to bite their tongues and take the barbs of their peers’ biases or else lose their position as a friend, as one of the good ones. To do otherwise, to express anger at this lot, would mean--gasp!--they might not be good. They might be like those entitled sorts. Perhaps a true bastard of the Sundered Houses, after all.

 If it isn’t him who calls her out, it either has to be Murray having an awakening on her own, or someone in the party who can properly clock the situation and be an equal or greater caustic force than Murray once her hackles come up. Julien is far from afraid of playing the asshole and was quick to stick up for Occtis when he and Thaisha were having their prickly moment in Tannesar. Thaisha would probably see the signs and have no issue calling out the hypocrisy on the wall. Bolaire’s Bolaire. Not sure who else could handle it.

Or, for maximum knife twist, have Murray confronted by someone with her same issue, turned up to its logical awful conclusion.

Maybe a fellow rebel mistakes Azune for the things he’s pretending to be and takes a shot at him. Either verbally shitting on him or perhaps actively attacking what looks like a Sundered House minion. In that moment, Murray gets to hear her biases parroted back to her without the shield of internal excuses to mask it. Worse, what if it’s a fellow wizard? One of the Pentevral faculty or another grad?

Come on, Mag’nesson, you know it’s true. The guy’s just another sorcerer lackey with the Sundered Houses. Probably one of their bastards they boosted up the ladder. Fuck him.

And what would she say? Murray, who worried for Occtis Tachonis, redeemed of his family name by being a wizard student? Murray, who saw Wicander Halovar, freshly horrified by some revelation about his corrupt family that sent him running, shaken with the reality that he is no cleric, but a sorcerous descendant of a monster, and insulted him for his naivety all the way out the door? Murray, who has coasted the line between friendship and distrust with Azune ‘Came from less than nothing’ Nayar, for at least a decade as the latter jumped through every hoop to stay in her good graces, to earn his place as a friend, only for it all to prove as conditional and flimsy as a business transaction?

Right. Okay. Episode 27. Hal and Yanessa and Thaisha and the play. I’ve only caught up, and I’m having a meltdown right now. Oh, you bitch. You manipulative insidious bitch.

This scene:

Yanessa: We feel that when, ah. The play ends and Azgra is still dominant. Azgra wins, the revolution fails, the rebellion fails. And it feels like it’s going to be an extremely tragic or sombre or … unfortunate ending. We would love if, at the end, yes, Phokeon dies, but if he were to die and merge with a universal force, something that would show that his life, his rebellion, was not spent in vain. But rather that, in struggling and failing, his soul was actually redeemed and rewarded.

Hal: I am with you. I am with you. I think, I would like to suggest, that that is implied.

Yanessa: Let’s make it explicit! And further, I think there are some moments of comedy that just don’t hit in the first act. I think that there’s an element that we would like to bring as well of … Phokeon communicates a lot towards his people. He keeps bringing it back to the Rungjani. But of course there will be many in your audience who are not themselves Rungjani. Perhaps if there was something that he referred to that there was a spirit moving upon him. Something that he almost didn’t understand why he was doing what he was doing. That there was something communicating to him.

Hal, keeping it together, trying to bend it back away from where this is going: Yearning for freedom.

Yanessa: Yearning for redemption. Yearning for salvation.

Thaisha, livid: Redemption against what? Redemption from what?

Yanessa: We are all sinners.

Thaisha: Sure, but … is that the focus … Mm. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. (towards Hal) This is your play. And, ah. My people’s history. So you guys can keep … That’s fine.

I have never felt such a towering rage at what comes out of this woman’s mouth. Not even during the false resurrection. Because Thaisha has it bang on. Thaisha knows exactly what this is.

Yanessa, these edits, are flat-out trying to co-opt the Shaper’s War.

Okay. There are … In the short term she’s trying to stall opening night. That’s quite obvious. She’s so insistent. There’s a short term goal, and she probably doesn’t actually expect the edits to go through, even with a judicious helping of veiled threat. Hal came here with a Lloy. So Yanessa probably doesn’t actually expect these to go through. The main short-term goal is to delay the play. But. Even just her saying them.

And Kother’ai isn’t talking about the Shaper’s War directly. It’s a previous, failed rebellion against Azgra. Which. Dangerous in itself, given the Falconer’s rebellion and it’s sudden fresh relevance recently. It’s probably half the reason why she suddenly can’t let the play go ahead, in the wake of everything that’s happened this past week. Thjazi was killed on Tachonis orders, Halovar likely wasn’t planning for it. She may have originally intended to let the play happen, gain some good grace, but with the mood in the city shifting rapidly, she cannot let a play go ahead about a failed rebellion flinging hope for a successful one forward into the future. It’s got far too much resonance right now, she needs the inhabitants of Dol Makjar to not get a head of revolutionary fervour up in the current climate. Hence the sudden kibosh on the play and the insistence that it be delayed.

Delayed, or changed. Or, ideally, both.

But whether or not she expects these changes to be carried out, the sheer fact of her asking for them is …

It’s vile. It’s so vile. And so insidious.

… The orcs did not rebel for their own sakes. They didn’t decide to rebel at all. They were moved to it by a mysterious force. By a universal truth, perhaps, that predates the Shapers, to which the Shapers themselves were returned, to whom all souls belong. The Shapers were evil, obviously, and the Shaper’s War was obviously correct, but it wasn’t the orcs, the Rungjani, who were responsible for that rightness, it was something else. Some force. Some force that, conveniently, Yanessa herself has a direct line to, that resurrected her from the dead only last night.

No wonder Thaisha was internally clawing at the walls. Yanessa is straight up trying to co-opt the Shaper’s War, the history of Thaisha’s people, their greatest and most terrible sacrifice, into propping up Yanessa’s own fucking fake-ass religion.

Oh, I wanted to rip her face off. Congratulations to both Hal and Thaisha for holding that together, because I have never felt such fury towards this woman as I did this conversation. To even suggest that. To a Lloy. To two Rungjani.

Hal’s play is a celebration of the orcish people, their sacrifice, their suffering. To the rebellious spirit that was always there in them, the longing for freedom, the determination to not only escape slavery but destroy their slaver, to stand and fight even against gods themselves in that cause, no matter how often they failed, how often they suffered, how often they were slaughtered. Phokeon’s rebellion failed. But the one that came later? Did not. And now this play, in honour of that failed rebellion, that first and failed attempt at freedom, takes place on the god’s own ground. They honour that long ago sacrifice while standing on Azgra’s own blood.

And Yanessa fucking Halovar … wants to suggest that maybe that wasn’t the orcs themselves at all. They weren’t people, they didn’t stand up for themselves, they were tools. They were moved. By a mysterious force. As tools to end an obvious evil.

An evil that no one else in the world objected to until the orcs took the choice of inaction out of everyone’s hands.

This goddamn colonial missionary white saviour goddamn fucking bullshit. All wisdom, all truth, comes from white (or in this case human) religion. Native people could not act for their own good, much less the good of all, unless they were guided to it by a much more … truthful, powerful, mysterious force, that incidentally happens to speak only through white human mouths.

Oh, I want to rip her face off. And she so good at what she does. Look at the city right now. The Lloy wing, the history of the Lloys and the Rungjani and the Shapers War, vanished and in limbo at the Archenade. The Revolutionary Council itself under direct attack, from Yanessa’s own mouth. And now this. This direct attack on the histories and stories of the orcish people. This displacement of their stories inside their own damned city. ‘There will be many in your audience who will not be Rungjani themselves’. Oh, you bitch.

The Tachonis are fighting a war of magic and force. The Halovar are fighting a war of culture.