[There it is. That blind idealism, waiting to be exploited. It irritates him, as it reminds him of the same blind ideals his nieces fought for. Worse, it reminds him of the naïve ideals HE had once espoused. When Młynar replies, his voice is level and calm- but there is an eerie sense of bitterness behind the polite manner]
They’re beautiful words, but they miss reality. Say a person you save is left to starve by an uncaring nation. Is that your duty accomplished? Or how about knights who are made into commodities, strutted around as symbols for others to stare at as a distraction for any number of their lord's sins- is that honour?
[The Kuranta man’s tail whips against the floor as the only outward indication of his rising cold anger. However, the scabbard on Młynar’s hip taps against his leg in the process, pushing him out of an anger that belonged more to himself than this stranger. He catches himself, putting aside personal torment and forcing it into the back of his mind where it belonged.]
Unfortunately, knighthood is a blunt instrument in the hands of those with real power. Their own values mean little. That is why this exile from it is a hidden blessing.
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They’re beautiful words, but they miss reality. Say a person you save is left to starve by an uncaring nation. Is that your duty accomplished? Or how about knights who are made into commodities, strutted around as symbols for others to stare at as a distraction for any number of their lord's sins- is that honour?
[The Kuranta man’s tail whips against the floor as the only outward indication of his rising cold anger. However, the scabbard on Młynar’s hip taps against his leg in the process, pushing him out of an anger that belonged more to himself than this stranger. He catches himself, putting aside personal torment and forcing it into the back of his mind where it belonged.]
Unfortunately, knighthood is a blunt instrument in the hands of those with real power. Their own values mean little. That is why this exile from it is a hidden blessing.