This alone is why I will oppose anything and everything Solas, or any ancient elf, or any modern elf wanting to return to their ancient origin ever does.
Felassan made them seem like jerks too.
“We were an empire,” Felassan said again, and this time she heard the anger in his voice. “It was not the Golden City. It was not the peaceful afterlife of this Maker the humans have made for themselves. Take the richest district of Val Royeaux, and tell me how many fools are scheming against each other at every ball? How many servants are flogged for improperly arranging the silverware?”
“We were the nobles.” It hit Briala like a blow. She remembered a slow trickle of blood winding toward the spot where she had hidden in the reading room of Celene’s childhood estate, where her parents had died on the orders of Lady Mantillon.
“We were everyone. There were no humans, no dwarves, no race but the elves. Every atrocity you seek to avenge for your broken people in their alienages, elven nobles committed upon elven servants.”
Briala swallowed. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Your empress,” he said. “You trust her. You believe she will free your people.”
“I do,” Briala said without hesitation.
“Then who’s going to scrub the floors?” Felassan asked, and smiled.
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