hopepainandshit | TLV: IC Inbox

[Well, those are interesting changes. Good, bad or just trying to be polite?]

She can stay where she is for now, it's fine. Get her some sun, for what it's worth.

[He moves to lean back and slouch on the table, watching Corvo curiously.]

What's the matter, then?

You are, boy. I'm tired of you getting everything wrong.

[He sits at the table.]

So we ate going over my file today.

[Oh, well. That's unexpected.]

And, er. [He frowns slightly.] Wait, because I keep getting things wrong?

Yes.

Where is it?

[He's too busy for details. Or too nervous.]

Hold on.

[He pushes off the table and heads to his room, but instead of going in he steps onto the barrel next to it and gives himself a boost up - there's a gap between a roof beam and the doorframe, almost impossible to see from where Corvo's sitting, and he sticks his hand in it, coming out with the file. Rolled up and significantly dusty, and he baps it on his thigh to dust it off as he comes back.]

Alright. [He sits across from Corvo, unfurling it with a short wave.] You're sure?

[He'd be impressed if he wasn't always expecting Richter to have a few tricks up his sleeves.]

Yes.

[No.]

Sit down.

I - know I fucked up. I just don't know where. Or what else could have been done. You're supposed to help me with that.

I am. [No regrets on not doing it earlier, but he does feel a bit bad that Corvo looks like he's trying not to blink out of his own skin about it.] We start here, then.

[There's pages of writing, of course, and Richter is eternally grateful that he was taught to read so young, but there's also some... they look like wanted posters, and he slides the top one out - a bald, severe-looking older man with a blood-red jacket in the otherwise sepia picture.]

Huh. So this is Campbell.

Mm. Forgot how ugly he was.

[He leans over to look, taking the papers out to skim over them. There it is. His whole damn life laid out.

He sees the name Beatrici and gently brushes his finger along the text.]

Guess even the Admiral doesn't know where she went.

Maybe it doesn't matter, in terms of... you know, you. [He picks up another mugshot, eyes trailing down slowly.] I don't know what happened to my father, but I don't think it would've mattered much in me still wanting to be a Belmont. Or at least I'd drive myself mad wondering about it.

My father was killed in an accident one say at work. My mother was so upset, she didn't leave her room for a week. My sister and I forced her to eat.

[He skims the page as he talks, summarizing the pages as he goes.]

Then my sister left.

[He's gathering all the posters, laying them out in order.]

Going from half an orphan to Lord Protector's a big fucking jump.

I was always good with a sword. I entered a contest. The Blade Verbena. I won and it earned me an officer ranking in the Guard. I was young, but - but everything seemed right. My mother would be comfortable and I could possibly go find my sister.

I was very good at what I did, so it was only a matter of time before I attracted attention and was given as a gift to the Emperor, Jessamine's father.

[He watches Richter lay out the photos, frowning as he does.]

And it was all going well, from there. You and Jessamine were happy, Emily was thriving. And then...

[He places Daud's poster on top, tapping the scarred face with one finger.]

Jessamine was killed.

Fourteen years with her. Emily was born.

[He doesn't look at the poster.]

We told her when she was old enough to understand why we had to keep it secret.

The Plague had been going two years when she sent me off to find out information about it. I came back early, which they didn't anticipate when they set their traps.

I was framed for the murder, then they took me to Coldridge.

[He sets his jaw, sitting back, shoulders tight.]

And Campbell made sure you suffered for it. Tried to get you to confess to something you didn't do.

[He slides his hand over to pull Campbell's out, resting it next to Daud's.]

Of all things, you poisoned him.

[He nods.]

I did. To - save Curnow. His niece asked me to save her uncle. Callista. She - took care of Emily.

I went through Dunwall and learned that he was going to kill Curnow. He was too loyal to the crown and they needed to get rid of anyone who wouldn't fall in line.

All I did was switch their drinks without him knowing. He poisoned himself.

It doesn't sound like he poisoned himself. You fucked off right away, right? [And he can't imagine Corvo would have left any trace of his own presence, the way he can blink around without notice.] Can't help but think that makes it look like Curnow killed a powerful man for his own gain.

He escaped.

I made sure of it.

[Yes, he got out, but Corvo took down as many guards as he could to leave him an exit.]

You knew Campbell was corrupt, though. You could've proved it, you could have ruined him completely.

[Corvo's silent for a moment, just staring.]

We'll never get through this if you want to pick through every damn choice.

[Richter gives him a completely unimpressed look.]

You just said you know you fucked up. That means you made a bad call somewhere on the way. [He gestures along the mugshots.] Most likely, you made a lot of them. How do you expect us to work it out quickly?

Alright. I could have done it. I had an idea, but it would have been considerably more risky that way.

[He turns the page.]

I wasn't willing to take that risk.

[It's impossible to keep all the incredulity off his face.]

As opposed to, and this is just a totally random example - stalking him to the house where he planned to murder someone, watching him poison the glasses, and sneaking in to switch them when no one was looking.

Yes.

[Absolutely no irony in his voice.]

Anything else or shall we move on?

"What was the other way?" he asks. He's not letting this one go just yet. "What made it more risky?"

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