"You think you can negotiate with me?" Owain scoffed. "You tortured a noblewoman, and you let her cousin die in these very dungeons. You conspired against my father, taking advantage of his madness to invent a conspiracy where there was none," he said, calmly listing out the Inquisitor's crimes.
"You murdered innocent men and tried to coerce my father into giving your order greater power in the March than it's had since the end of the Second Crusade," Owain said, referencing the most damning of the decrees he found on his father's desk after he'd ended the old man's life. "The Church has no reason to protect you, and you have nothing to offer me to 'negotiate.'"
"Don't be so sure, young Lord Owain," Percivus said, and now that predatory smile curved his lips, visible even in the dim torchlight of the dungeon cell. "The Church has every reason to protect me, because I've been very, very useful to them over the years."
