Recon

[sweetless]

[He feels like something akin to a stray dog as he follows silently leads Claude through lands that he knows like the back of his scarred hand. A tree etched with children's initials, cloisters of thick trees that hide perfect ambush spots, divots in the ground that caused plenty of stumbles.

He gave up this land, before he even realized what he was doing, really. And everything that went along with it. His title. His name. His expected obligations. He chose to become a sword rather than a shield, even if the family relic still hung off of his back like the last stubborn piece of his old life that he couldn't bring himself to shed. But it wasn't all sentimental. It was simply logical. It was strength. It was power. It was aid in a battle, and what soldier would throw that away just because of some silly sentiment.

Still, it was hard to ignore every emotion that being back here set in him. He didn't regret it. His gaze shifts briefly back towards Claude, the leader he's chosen to follow over the one he was expected to. No. He doesn't regret it he decides as he watches Claude trudge through thick snowfall with that same easy expression that Felix can't read for the life of him. He may not always understand all of Claude's plans, honestly, he may not even know the man very well for all the layers of costumes he wears, but he can appreciate his goal, what he's trying to do, the world he's trying to make.

Though, really, Felix's agenda isn't that noble. As long as the world is in chaos, he has a place in it. He has no idea what he'll do once there's peace. Petty squabbles that aren't worth his skill. He'll grow dull without a challenge. He'll rust and become useless. A fate he'll deal with another day. For now he's got a place at Claude's side. Even if it didn't start that way. Even if it doesn't end that way.

He pauses in his steps a few hundred feet away from where he knows the clearing is and once again turns his attention towards the archer.]

What exactly are we looking for again? You don't really think my-the Fraldarius army is going to fall here, do you?

Comments

[failnot]

[ cut them in half, down the width or the height? or so would be the question if felix doesn't explain himself immediately thereafter, making claude nod in understanding. he squats back down, back onto his haunches as he settles himself near the pile of wood, picking up one of the branches to flip it back and forth, noting its shape. it's only a second's worth of consideration before claude shuffles his sword free, flipping it around in his hand with more deftness than he might normally show.

a little bit of mystery, after all, went a long way. it kept people guessing, not to mention underestimating him. but seeing how claude had no intention of actively antagonizing felix, or driving him off into the arms of some mercenary army, he probably had some room for a little honesty. besides, the fact that claude was almost as clever with a sword as he was with a bow is a minor detail, nothing so important that claude felt any need to jealously guard it as a secret.

dragging the sword past the resistance of the wood is a little harder in practice, but claude makes due. he peers at the center, running a naked finger along its length. his smile deepens with another touch of honesty when he finds it dry (or at least, dry enough to use), tilting his gaze up at felix again. ]

Looks like we're in luck. So what's next?

[ probably something related to stripping off the wet bits to make the dry bits even easier to use -- or the like. it's nothing more than an educated guess, not worth voicing. seeing how he'd let felix take charge of how the fire would be run, he might as well let it continue. maybe it'll help ease the scowl that felix had been wearing earlier. ]

[sweetless]

[With nothing else to do other than think about the chill still running through him, bone deep in a way that a blanket wasn't going to fix, he focuses his attention on Claude instead, watching the way he handles his sword with a quiet attentiveness.

He'd much rather do than teach, and the sigh he gives at Claude's question is more about that than any irritation at the need to ask. The idleness doesn't sit well with him, even when it's a necessity.]

Cut half the logs into quarters. And then strip enough shavings to make a small pile. Then we'll need small pieces for kindling. The wet logs will burn if the fire is hot enough.

[Which meant layering. Lighting shavings on fires that would catch the smaller pieces on fire, which would then ignite the quartered logs, and eventually would spread to the larger ones, that would have hopefully dried some under the heat before the flames travel to them anyway.

Work that would go faster if he could help, but a flex of his fingers and the needling sensation that follows has him frowning and leaning back against the wall of the cave in momentary defeat.]

...I suppose you get to prove yourself useful, after all.

[failnot]

[ cut into quarters, done. the stripping takes a bit more focus and coordination with a full-length sword though, which has claude pausing to consider the direction before he's getting up into a kneel. it's easier when he has the log standing vertically, supported from the top with a hand while the other begins the stripping process, continuing this ever-arduous process of getting warm. though he did have to say, the cold wasn't nearly as bothersome when his hands were being occupied.

as for the pesky, needy thing that was his mind, felix seems to have that covered with his sigh and quip. it'd a lot more willpower than claude intends to use to stop himself from quirking another smile. ]

Wow. Coming from you, that's an absolutely glowing compliment. Really, I'm flattered.

[ annoyance is an easier displeasure to bear than the horrid cold that must still be nipping at felix's extremities, a state that felix gives away by his inaction. claude's happy to provide such a distraction until the other man found himself feeling better enough to join in on the chopping, or, more likely: taking over outright. which would leave claude to finish setting up some of the other things to start the process of getting them fed. ]

Though if memory serves, I believe I'd already proven my use to you [ and many, many others, ] several times over by now. Still, better a late acknowledgment than none at all, huh?

[sweetless]

[Supervising was never a task he wanted, and his fingers itch to take over. If Claude showed any less competency, he would have. But watching how he carefully follows each of his orders, the focus and attention that go into his work, well, Felix is properly distracted. He's not sure he's ever seen Claude so...earnest before. Even when he's helping "train" Claude in sword to sword combat, he can't help but feel like it's all a game. Like he's saying things Claude already knows. That it's all a battle of tricks rather than talent.

That's not what he sees now, and he wonders if Claude is simply too focused on survival to try and hide it, or if it is indeed just another trick. If it is, he's getting better.

But by the time he's done with the tasks Felix has set him up, Felix moves away from the wall, digging through his back for the flint before he starts setting the wood up the way he wants it. Yep, it's time to take over. He doesn't need to feel every nerve in his fingertips to do this part, after all.]

You think so, do you?

[Of course, Claude has proven himself. Felix wouldn't be here if he hadn't. After all, there's no blind loyalty from him. He's here because Claude is an efficient leader, one who's clever on the battlefield. And while Felix often feels like they're all pawns on a chess board, he has to admit that Claude treats himself just like another piece in the game.

It's better...It's better than following the Boar. Claude has his own duality that Felix hasn't entirely figured out, but it's not nearly as deadly as Dimitri's.

Random thoughts, apparently, as he finally starts the fire, and carefully tends to it until the flames finally lick at the larger sticks, and still burn.

With a sense of accomplishment, he sighs softly and sets back, letting his fingers play as close to the flames as he dares.]

...You've never had to set up a fire like this before, have you?

[And he glances over at Claude, as if he's learned some piece of the mysterious puzzle that makes up the Golden Deer leader.]

[[ooc: Sorry for the super long disappearance! It was a rough end/start of the year. But things are settling back now. No pressure if it's been too long for you though. I'd totally get it!]

[failnot]

( ooc: no worries at all! sorry for my delay as well. )



Oh, I doubt anyone could claim otherwise.

[ his wording is deliberate, easy. leaving nothing but implications for felix to craft his impressions, to take what he can (and want) from claude's non-answer. because the real one is slightly more complicated, specific to their current environment and circumstances. had he ever built a fire out of wood and flint before? yeah, sure. had he ever done it in the dead of (what feels like) winter, in the middle of a snow storm, working with wet wood and half-frozen fingers? nah. like he'd said: very few people could likely claim otherwise. ]

Unlike yourself, of course. You seem quite at home, working with wet wood and a flint.

[ leaving felix to the fire, claude rummages through the rest of their belongings to begin pulling out a rudimentary pot and kettle, small enough to feed just one. but the fire that lights under felix's (more) experienced hands looks just fine, and claude doesn't mind having second dibs if a cup of hot water or a can of reheated beans (and soup, if he could find it in their supplies) could help ease felix's mood that much further. he was but a follower until they arrived at that kingdom town, at the mercy of felix's good will and lingering loyalty to claude's cause. which is to say: what's the harm in fluffing him a bit? none, that's what.

plus the guy had gone out twice into the frigid cold, chopping down wood so that they could share a fire. as much as it'd been a decision based in logic (claude was operating on less-than-ideal settings in the cold, after all), it'd been a small token of kindness, a debt that needed paying. and claude didn't like letting those stand, not when he was in the business of collecting favours and cashing them in at opportune times, not, you know, the exact opposite. it's all self-serving in the end (or so he'd like to claim). ]

Are all Faerghus nobles raised with this kind of training, or are you just special?

[sweetless]

[Felix sighs at the response, lips pursed into a hint of a frown as he looks from the fire to what Claude's doing. There's no effort to actually look at his face though, he knows there's no need to. There'd be no tell, no twitch of anything for him to latch on to. It's a perfected art. If it didn't happen so often, Felix might not even realize that Claude is entirely sidestepping the question, while still giving an appropriate answer.

And then shifting the conversation to him.

Hmph.

But it's a topic he enjoys talking about, so...]

Yes. It's common to learn to swing a sword before bothering to pick up a quill. Nature survival was considered a necessity. ...Strength is all that matters in Faerghus. Even the Boar had nightly excursions in the woods, running through it in the cold of winter in full armor.

[As much as he actually enjoyed his upbringing, aside from the widely accepted notion that death in battle was somehow more noble than a death at bedside. He kept those ideals of strength.

But he also knew it's what would ultimately cause them to fall. A kingdom with no king was doomed. People fought for a ghost, and that was a quick walk to the grave. There wasn't anything other than old traditions worth fighting for up here, anymore.]

Don't they have any expectations for you in Leicester?

[failnot]

That they do. Far more than I'd like to admit. [ or acknowledge at all. some of those expectations were unavoidable, but those that claude could skimp on in the name of his other, more ambitious goal? yeah, they're getting skimped on. it wasn't as though the alliance nobility had the luxury to watch him when the empire was an ever-worrying presence at their borders. one silver lining of war, he supposed.

but again: that was nothing that felix needed to know, and thus, it's not something that claude would willingly volunteer. besides, if there was one (of many) things that felix didn't seem to forgive, it was laziness. or cutting corners, as claude would like to call it. taking shortcuts, turning the inefficient into something far more effective. things like his time wasn't anything that should be squandered on appeasing the nerves and the egos of the alliance nobility, after all.

felix doesn't need to know what claude chooses to utter next either, but give and take wasn't that bad of a practice to indulge in. particularly when there was a purpose to it. ]

Though I suppose compared to what my old combat instructor used to expect of me, the Alliance has been rather kind in that aspect.

[ the water boils, and claude tips its contents into a cup that he'd hand over without a word. felix can make his own tea, brewing it to the strength that he prefers to take it. as nosy as he is, he doesn't look so closely into someone's dietary choices unless he was looking to test a concoction or two. which, in this case, with felix? he wasn't. ]

Can't say I was ever expected to survive this, [ dead of winter, full of snow and biting winds, ] in nothing but armour though. What else passes as training in Faerghus?

[sweetless]

[Felix shakes his head in response, not honestly expecting to get anything out of a conversation with Claude, so he's taken by surprise when he is offered a piece of something. And it certainly serves to whet his curiosity. Combat instructor.

He debates chasing that little tidbit as Claude offers him the cup of hot water, but he doesn't take it, grunting and nudging Claude's hand away.]

You can pretend all you want, but I know the weather is getting to you. So, take it. I can wait for the next one.

[He picks up a stick and nudges at the flames, considering the question and the possible answers. Faerghus was hardly short on extreme training.]

I'll talk about mine if you'll talk about yours.

[failnot]

[ were they about to have a battle of wills? because felix might find his match in claude, who simply sets the cup down to where the man could reach it without straining. which leaves claude to go back to shuffling about, collecting more water to set on a boil before he settles himself back down near the fire, lashes going half-lidded as he considers the game that felix lays out, the pros and cons of entertaining his condition.

for, you know, about two seconds. he sees no harm in sharing tidbits of his childhood training, especially with a man that'd been raised so far outside of almyra's reach. sreng was what the kingdom of faerghust classically found most threatening, with a sprinkling of duscur insurrection here and there; almyra should be but a land beyond the borders of the alliance, a country of outsiders that felix wasn't tasked to repel from fodlan's borders. ]

Caught your interest, huh? If I didn't know better, I'd say that interest sounds a little personal. But I'll play along.

[ gesturing a hand forward, ]

Question for question. You can ask first.

[ it's always interesting to see what type of question someone came at you first, after all. kinda helped to set the tone of the conversation. ]

[sweetless]

[Felix's eyes narrow at the cup as it's set somewhere between them, Claude apparently deciding that he will not be taking the damn thing. And Felix could leave it there out of spite, cooling by the second. But it's a wasted effort, so with a sigh of defeat he reaches back out for it and pulls it into his hands. And for a long moment he simply sits with it, letting the transfer of heat soak into his fingers.]

Of course it's personal. We rarely put effort into things that aren't.

[Blowing on the lip of the cup he brings it up to his mouth, content with simple hot water for the moment, as he considers what question to ask first. There's probably a strategy here that could be had, but Felix doesn't bother with it. It's just not his style.]

What was the first weapon you learned to wield?

[failnot]

[ personal, as in felix was interested in claude, the person. but to specify might bring upon another kind of conversation that claude wasn't particularly fond of entertaining, so he lets that quip go without comment, head tilted in a way that betrayed his amusement. or maybe it's his smile that does it, a little deeper and more crooked than usual, less practiced in execution.

because that's interesting, isn't it? that felix would have a supposedly personal interest in him? to what purpose? how much of that purpose found its roots in felix's departure from dimitri's service? interesting, and a little surprising if it were true. ]

A sword.

[ his tone is easy despite the direction of his thoughts, as well as a huff of laughter that underlies his answer. it's teasing, almost, for how unaccustomed felix seems to be in this game waged with words; unsurprising, considering the man's forward nature, but it's still rather cute for how clumsy it sounds.

his turn: ] What other survival skills are the people of Faerghus expected to learn?

[sweetless]

[It's not an accusation he would deny, if faced with it, but it was something that would have to be brought to attention before he realized himself that his curiosity might be deeper than he's currently aware of.

For now, he's content to not consider such matters, because in the end it was just a trivial thing.

Though his lips purse at the teasing laugh that follows his answer, sure he's misstepped in the game somehow, or somehow hasn't lived up to Claude's expectations. And maybe he has, because while his question has only gained him a single word answer, Claude's question demands much more from him.]

Hunting. Foraging. Building a fire. Camping and building temporary shelter. Surviving the weather. Navigating. Fishing. [He shoots Claude a look with an arched brow.] Should I continue? Or is 'we're quite adept at surviving outside' good enough for you?

[failnot]

[ that's two questions, felix. or so claude would point out if he felt up to splitting hairs, but what would be the point? felix's attention was mostly on claude's training (what he was instructed in, and possibly who) which was harmless for as long as claude carefully left out the details, while claude had all to gain with this line of questioning. no need to rock the boat and end the game early, right?

so he'll smile, genuine if only in his amusement, collecting his share of the water to to warm his hands around. he'll steep the chamomile in just a bit, after he's finished trying to absorb the warmth of the boiling water entirely through his hands. ]

Good enough? Please, that more than covers it. Sounds like I'll be getting out of this situation alive and whole after all.

[ dependent wholly on felix's expertise, runs the implication. claude's enough of a survivor to probably be able to out-stubborn this weather in some way (maybe), but it's always reassuring to hear that he had a trained professional at his side.

anyway, since it just happens to be his turn again after felix's two whole questions that claude is generously willing to count as just the one, ] And how does the Kingdom citizens keep track of their navigation? A map could only help so much against weather like this.

[ blinding, white snow that did much to shield the landscape from showing anything remotely guiding. or was it just a matter of experience? (of the entire kingdom territory? that was hard to believe.) ]

[sweetless]

[Wait...that wasn't a question at all. Let alone two questions. It was an irritated rhetorical question. But Claude answers it, doesn't he? And...Felix lets out an irritated little noise at the realization of what he's done. He could argue, but in truth, it's a fault on his own part. He'll have to be more careful with his words.

He doesn't often find himself enjoying conversations, but this very quickly is feeling like a verbal sword fight. And he's utterly outmatched. It's surprisingly...interesting.

With a sigh into his hot water, he sets the cup down and reaches for the small array of tea options. It's an odd, accommodating, detail to pack on a trip like this, he thinks, brows furrowed as he finds the Almyran pine needles and sets it in his water to seep. Was Claude always this casually thoughtful?]

...Practice. Landmarks. If I'm on a trail I don't know, markers to find my way back. On a clear day, cuts in every few tree trunks works. If the visibility is weak, broken tree limbs are a better visual aid. Everyone has their own trackers, the better ones are the natural looking ones that most people wouldn't notice, unless you want to be followed.

[His eyes fall back to the tea.]

Why did you bring so many tea options?

[failnot]

[ makes sense. practice, landmarks, markers, trackers. habits borne of an unforgiving environment, drilled into the bodies of kingdom citizens. it's not something that claude can replicate, can't expect any alliance soldier to be able to replicate. best case scenario would be have a kingdom-raised officer in each battalion, tasked with leading their division safely through the wilderness of faerghus.

-- no, that's not true. best case scenario: the kingdom doesn't fall. that'd eliminate the threat of having to navigate these elements altogether. was that possible? at all? (more importantly: was it a goal worth chasing when their forces were already so thin, fractured as the alliance continued to be?) hm. ]

I make it a habit to keep as many options free to me as possible. Keeps things [ safe, ] interesting.

[ claude picks out chamomile for himself, intent on letting the bag seep for as long as possible. maybe he'll even just leave the whole thing in until he was finished with it. ]

Let's say you remained with Faerghus. How could I best get you to consider working with the Alliance?

[ against the empire, naturally. he doesn't think he'd need to specify that much, or believe that felix couldn't see the purpose behind that particular question. chasing the best case scenario wasn't always optimal for the resources that one had on hand, but testing the waters, seeing what is possible? that's always worth consider. options, as it's been said. ]

[sweetless]

Even with tea choices. [Felix shakes his head, not quite seeing the point of this kind of effort. Even if Claude typically had a plan A, a plan B, a plan K. Not everything needed back-ups. Idly, he wonders who Claude had planned to take if Felix had refused.

Or was he the one plan Claude couldn't change around? His question is certainly one that not everyone would be able to answer. Or maybe it is. They're not exactly complex people.

Still, he does take a moment to consider, eyes drifting towards the flames, watching them dance from the subtle blow of wind that reaches them even this far back. It's still cold, even with the fire, and he curls in a little bit more on himself, knees pulled to his chest.]

It's a kingdom without a king. They'll fight because fighting is what they know. But...they could use a higher purpose than that. Something or someone to fight for. Honesty and logic are your best options. And strength is a good gift.

[There's a pause as he tests his drink out. It still needs to seep, so he sets it back down.]

Do you have the resources to deal with Faerghus?

[failnot]

[ felix looks cold, almost as cold as claude feels. he's long-since resigned himself to the stiffness that the cold lends his fingers, flexing them into a fist before trying to have them relax into shapes that claude could put to use. his gloves feel even colder against his skin, and it doesn't take him long before they're coming off so that he can cradle his tea into the circle of his hands. the blanket around felix draws his eye, and claude finds himself dismissing the idea even before it finishes forming.

sharing body warmth was likely a last resort for the both of them. claude was open to it when it eventually became a necessity, but only then. flirting was one thing, but (sort of) cuddling? nah. ]

As an independent nation? Sure. [ the alliance troops weren't nearly as well-trained, but in terms of resources like food, weapons, and the like? sure. ] If it becomes the Empire's newest state, that's a little trickier.

[ short answer: no, they didn't. long answer: there were always ways around in war, whether it by terrain advantage, excellent leadership, better trained troops, divine intervention, and the like. but that was built around chance and probabilities, things like fate and luck and all the things that claude had no control over. none of that appealed to him. honesty, logic, and strength though? those were doable. to a certain degree. (honesty, huh. way to twist him arm.)

hence: this trip. this cold and miserable trip into faerghus, dragging along a man that he'd somehow convinced onto his side. felix is a strength that claude appreciates, and in current matters? for more than just that. for a guy that didn't seem to enjoy machinations and manipulations, he had some pretty interesting insights with a rather refreshing way of stating them too. there wasn't nearly as much guesswork around him, and claude... well. he knows how to appreciate an unusual (but good) thing. ]

And what are you fighting for by allying yourself with the Alliance?

[ he doesn't say with me. because this isn't personal. war never really is, unless one's name was edelgard von hresvelg. ]

[sweetless]

[There's a subtle pout to his lips as he considers Claude's answer, the confidence in which he states it. He had doubted it, really, that Claude would have the necessary requirements to bribe them when they have their own war raging. But he'd hardly be surprised if Claude had some sort of card up his sleeve.

He could spend the entire evening trying to figure out what that was, but unless Claude felt the sudden urge to be forthright with him, it'd be a futile effort. So he lets the idea go, instead watching the gloves come off of Claude's hands, stealing the warmth of the mug. It would only be a temporary solution.

And Felix knows very well what he should be doing. But doing it now when Claude seems to be taking this opportunity to suddenly get much more personal, well that'd just be awkward.

His mouth opens, but he stops at the last second. There's a very simple answer, which considering what he's been given in return, is what Claude deserves. And then there's the rather complex one.]

I wanted to follow my own path. Not my father's. Not my brother's. I want to fight, its all I know, but I can't fight for the ideals that dying is noble. I don't want to raise my sword for the sake of the already dead. How pointless. So caught up in what the dead would think that they don't consider the effect on the living.

[There it is, words he's said countless times, to his father, to Ingrid, to Dimitri, to other members of the Blue Lions. But none of them really listen, all eager to play the role of the heroic knight they all grew up reading about. He shouts, and they still don't listen. He doesn't expect Claude to be any different.]

Why did you claim the burden of your inheritance?

[failnot]

[ those are old words. not to claude, but to felix, spoken as if on rote. practiced words, if only by the nature of repetition, words that must've found felix's lips numerous times for how exhausted they sound. or irritated. in felix, those two states might very well be the same thing.

it leaves more questions than answers though, that's for certain. to whom did felix speak them to? (claude could hazard a guess, but that's all it'd be: a guess.) for what reason? what kind of situation and circumstance had lead felix to hearing that dying was noble? (death was death, after all, with all of its nuances painted on after the fact by the still-living.) that a sword should be raised for the already dead? or that the dead somehow mattered more than the living?

claude straightens, leans forward, his gaze made bright with curiosity. the questions linger at the tip of his tongue, and while he knows there were ways that he could speak them, maybe pry out more than his share of answers... he carefully refrains. felix was no politician, but he could be as tight-lipped as the best of them if he caught onto what claude was doing. too bad, and it was getting so interesting too. ]

... I suppose it's because people would listen to Claude von Riegan more than they might lend an ear to just Claude. [ a nobody in this political environment wouldn't even be allowed to edit a book, much less change the mindset of an entire nation. ] I have some useful blood running through me, so I'm putting it to use. Though I do find it rather interesting that you'd call it a burden when I'd call it an... advantage. Of a sort.

[ it's another careful answer, one that carves out what's safe to give back, something that'd do little in the way of surprising anyone that knew anything about him. even still, he keeps it truthful, loaded with the possibility for further questions, implications of a larger ambition afoot -- he gives as much as he's given, really. ]

And interesting as your answer was, I'd say most of us [ in the alliance, at least, ] fight for the living than for those that've left us. So here's what I can't figure out: what kind of future will this path find you?

[sweetless]

[Felix is caught by that bright look in Claude's eyes. It seems particularly unguarded, but he knows that's rarely the case with Claude. He's not sure why he's ever bothered to note that fact, and the realization that he watches Claude too closely too frequently hits him suddenly, like a ton of bricks, and he blinks at his self-realization.

And a moment later it's shoved away. He's always been observant. Even if it's usually more focused on technique, skills used in a fight. But then...Claude uses all of those nuances to his benefit, in war and out.

He finds it's hard suddenly to maintain eye contact, so with a huff, he turns his gaze away, stares angrily at his mug as he listens. And he can't argue. He does absolutely consider titles to be a burden, but he understands they grant freedoms and chances that not having one does not. Though simply claiming a role of leadership doesn't exactly seem like Claude's goal.

And Claude's words confirm as much. He's already got another question on the tip of his tongue, but it's not his turn as Claude's question reminds him.

He scoffs.]

Do I look like a fortune-teller?

[He doesn't offer to answer immediately, instead moving the mug into his hand as he scoots himself closer to Claude until they're nearly shoulder to shoulder, a conscious sliver of a gap set between them before he tugs the blanket off one shoulder to toss over Claude's.

It's easier not to meet those eyes when they're both staring in the same direction now.]

I've no idea what I've to gain in the end fighting for you. I don't even know ultimately what your objective is. I can't imagine when you announced yourself as an heir you thought you'd have to fight against the Kingdom and the Empire. But it doesn't matter. I'm a sword, all I need is a fight. But I'd also like to survive. Siding with you gives me a chance at both.

[Simple versions of deeper truths, that's the game they're playing here, after all isn't it? But it's true enough. He was raised to fight. He embraced that upbringing. He wanted to be strong. And maybe here with Claude and his Golden Deers they could use their strength to end the war before the casualties reached...

Reached people he'd like to protect.]

It's probably the proper chance to ask you what your goal is. [But instead he takes a sip of his tea.] But then I also said it doesn't matter. At the end of war is peace, what good is a sword then?