"You are restricted," he continues with no apparent reaction to Cade's faltering expression, "to secretarial duties such that you remain under Inquisition employ, at least until something more sutable is found for you. You no longer answer to Norrington nor any other Templar directly. You have no rank. Arrangements will be made so that you may continue to take lyrium."
The ultimate disgrace, his life torn away, over something that didn't even seem a big deal at the time. Cade feels like he's been stabbed. "Ser, please," he says, choking up, his voice going quieter as his breath leaves him. Not this, anything but this.
"We made this concession for you the first time. Not this time. You're going to have to find a new way to exist in the world without being the sword of the Maker. The decision is made. Am I clear?"
"No," Cade breathes, suppressing a sob as he sinks back down onto his bed. It's not that Malcolm isn't clear, there's just nothing else Cade finds himself capable of saying. "Please, ser, no," he murmurs as he presses his face down into his hands. Often he wishes he were confident and articulate, but there's no hope of that anytime soon.
If Malcolm were given to softness when passing judgement, when doing his job, then he likely wouldn't have the job anymore. He allows no sympathy on his face or in his voice, even when his words give them. "I am sorry, Cade. I truly am. I understand that what you do, what you are, is not by choice. But it does not excuse the danger you pose."
It's been too long sitting and waiting, and too long of a life being miserable, his entire existence and identity dedicated to the organization that has chosen to discard him. Cade is stretched so thin, so worn down that any resolve he could have hoped for in this situation is completely gone. Shaking his head, he simply sits and sobs silently into his hands. There's no appealing this, he knows it's far too late for that. He couldn't anyway, he'd be shit at it. It's over.
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"Ser, please," he says, choking up, his voice going quieter as his breath leaves him. Not this, anything but this.
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