Elyna led Sinith away from the main group of Knights and Skyriders who prepared to train and spar together before a well-earned dinner and rest. Satisfied that they were beyond the curiosity of anyone who wanted to gawk, or eavesdrop the woman stopped her determined stride. She stood beneath trees that had been stripped bare of any leaves, with the snow reaching well past her ankles. They were still within the radius of the scouts and archers who kept a close watch for the camp, but she was confident they would not be disturbed. In the distance though, muffled by the steady snow-fall, she could hear the clang of swords on armour and the occasional grunt of effort as the combatants carried on their practise.
The captain tried to size up the young man before her. A Squire of Gawyne, she realised her mistake. He wasn’t as young as she’d first assumed but probably more of an age with herself, if not a little older. Perhaps it was the blue skin, it gave him a more youthful appearance? She was curious about his attempts at camouflage as well in the natural surrounds of Rynmere and the Settlements, but this was not the time to discuss cosmetology.
“I am Captain Elyna Burhan,” she introduced herself. He’d probably worked that out already though, given that he’d spotted the wings on her armour. She, pulled of her scarf, unwinding it from her neck before she looped it over a low hanging branch. She wore a warm woollen hat to keep out the cold. Her dark grey breeches were dirty at the knees, pressed with mud and beneath a leather jerkin she wore a long tunic and dove-grey shirt, “what is your name?”
She waited for her answer before flexing her fingers, “I think…a lot of people are expecting me to shout at you,” she peered behind him, through the crowd of snow-covered trees and the vague shapes of people beyond, “but I’d more interested in knowing why you did that? Why did you take the opportunity to strike the Warden?”
Sin was more annoyed than afraid as he walked after the woman. The amount of metal bits attached to her rank indicated that she was of higher rank than him but Sin felt very little in the way of respect for her because of it. The only reason he didn't feel any respect at all for her was the fact that the crowd of knights that had been watching the fight parted for her, allowing both the squire and the captain before him to pass without any trouble. Sin did sense some hostility from the surrounding knights but they were of no consequence to him. As long as they were capable of that, it meant they were still alive.
Holding in one hand the short sword, still in the scabbard that he had put it in for the fight, Sin followed behind the woman. She was short, even for a human woman, and he thought that others might find her appealing. Sin didn't see it. All he saw was politics wrapped in money with a sauce of favoritism and some sprinkling of a relationship with a higher up somewhere. He didn't even have the time to undo the bind that kept his sword in its scabbard and put it back around his waist. They soon passed the outskirts of the camp, away from the others. The snow was too high for his liking and the temperature was quickly dropping out of range from the fires and the people. He doubted they were in any danger but Sin kept looking left and right into the surroundings, trying to spot an enemy.
The noise of the camp reached his ears as he looked at the skyrider looking at him. She took her time and he observed her as she did. He could practically see the little wheels in her head turning. When she introduced herself, Sin decided that her name was at least valuable enough to keep stashed away in his mind somewhere. The fact that her name didn't mean anything at all to him at the moment was clearly visible on his face. That said, it never hurt to be able to drop ranking names in situations like this. Except he didn't have any names to drop for this one. He figured she'd either planned on teaching him a lesson here or reprimand him after hearing his reasons. At least she was kind enough to do out of the public eye.
"Squire Rathaan, sir. At your service." Sin saluted as he introduced himself to her. He didn't really respect her enough to salute her but Sin knew better than that. Suck up to them for a few more seasons and he'd outrank the whole lot of them. Just a little longer. When she told him she wasn't interested in reprimanding him or giving him some variant of the many boring or dirty but necessary tasks around a military camp, Sin was surprised, and it showed on his face for a moment before he managed to control himself. Try not to show too much, control yourself, read the situation. We'll get through this.
When the captain asked her question, Sin waited a trill or two trying to look like he was formulating an answer. Telling this woman that all he wanted to do was beat that smug warden of theirs at his own game wouldn't get him out of the situation. "With my skills with the blade, I was sure the Warden would have no problem holding me off on top of the other two. Defeating three people at the same time in combat would have been a great way to boost morale for all the knights. If they believe their commander capable of such feats, they would only push themselves harder to do the same." Most of what he said was a rewording of some books on the subject but it was all true, except that it hadn't been his plan.
Sin dropped his salute slightly to run two fingers across his chin, looking up towards the leafless branches of the trees around them. "Although... maybe now..." For a trill or two, Sin thought of a way to rework his approach now that he had managed to "wound" the warden in combat. As satisfying as it had been for him, it wouldn't help the knights. Remembering the situation he was in, Sin pulled himself from his thoughts and focused his eyes back on the woman in front of him. The fact that she was shorter than him and he had to look down at her seemed appropriate. "My apologies, captain." Sin pulled himself back into his salute. His other hand was still holding onto the short sword, making sure to keep it next to his waist where it should have been had he had time to equip it again.
With both hands occupied and nothing to keep his cloak pulled tightly around him, Sin could feel the cold air of the cold cycle cut through all the little gaps in his armor. He was quickly shivering as the wind picked up his cloak and played with it behind him, playfully moving it around as it saw fit, with little regard for Sin's body heat retention.
“A pleasure to meet you Squire Rathaan,” it was a polite and automatic response. She wasn’t sure that it was anything like a pleasure to meet the young man and lent back against the tree. Her arms folded over her chest. Her brow creased in a frown as she studied him. “You really don’t need to keep saluting,” she assured him, “it must be uncomfortable to stand like that,” there was a hint of a smile as she tried to coax some humour from the man. Her expression remained unchanged as he gave his explanation. Fingertips tingled and she knew, as though his words were followed by the clanging of a bell, he was lying. The mark of the Immortal Pre was hidden well beneath her wayward fringe and yet it’s effects were tangible. Brown eyes lightened to the colour of honey, something which could be attributed to the Biqaj in her blood. Elyna tilted her head to oneside, lifting a hand to run her thumb over her chin.
She considered her next move. Like pieces of a game board. “You’re lying,” as a devotee to Pre, Elyna found she had no choice but to respond with the truth. “I can only surmise that you wanted to land a blow on the Warden and show him to be, just like everyone else. A mortal man,” the corner of her mouth twitched with the irony. Malcolm was far from an ordinary mortal man. “It was an action that I can’t help but feel dishonours you. Leaders as you say, give power to their troops by being more. We all put our breeches on, one leg at a time Squire, but,” her frown deepened, it was unlike her to say so much and to a stranger.
“You’re old enough to have seen battle, and I don’t know your past but I’ll say this anyway…you’ve got to have faith in the people that lead you into a fight. You might not know their overall scheme or plan and you might just get told to go here, or hold back or attack that wall. All you will ever have is faith that your leader, the Warden is going to do the best they can to bring you back alive, or if it comes down to it, as many of his troops as possible. I don’t doubt that he would sacrifice lives for the greater good, but that is his duty and his responsibility. If you’re not prepared to believe, and you cannot have faith in whoever your assigned leader is, for whichever mission you’re on – you have no place in the Iron Hand and you’d better start your own mercenary unit.” She kept her voice and gaze level. Unable to fight the sense of growing curiosity.
Despite the captain's small stature and her seemingly relaxed nature, Sin could feel that her smile wasn't in any way an indication for him to relax and drop his own guard with her. If anything, it only looked like she could see right through him. He did let go of the salute, dropping his hand down to his waist, leaving it there, next to him. He shifted a little from one leg to the other, trying to keep away the cold the snow was generating around his boots and legs. Now, Sin had had dealings with all sorts of people in the past and usually he could tell when they were on to him. Humans were easy to read like that. But when the captain claimed he was lying, Sin was surprised and totally blindsided by the remark. He hadn't seen any indication of her thoughts on the subject.
Elyna followed her surprise statement up with the most generic knight scolding Sin had ever heard. Bla, bla, bla honor bla, bla bla. He really wanted to tell her where she could put her honor and that he would have to try much harder before he dishonored himself in his own eyes but neither of those responses would get him out of the situation, only suck him deeper into it. When she came with the faith speech next, Sin couldn't help the corners of his mouth curling up. Faith? In a man like Malcolm? Not bloody likely.
Sin listened to the rest of her speech like a well trained dog. He looked somewhat apologetic but not convinced yet, he kept his eyes on the captain while she spoke and he did his very best not to shift back and forth between legs too often. When she repeated her question again, Sin wondered if he would just tell her how he felt? She seemed quite in tune with what he was thinking. Most likely she would know he was lying once again if he did. He wondered what magic the woman was bringing forth that could read him so easily. When the mention of a mercenary unit reached him, Sin looked genuinely hurt, as if he'd just been insulted by her. A mercenary? That was probably just as bad as being Malcolm himself. Sin shook his head lightly at the mention.
Since he didn't know yet whether she had just guessed before or if she could read Sin like an open book, he didn't want to test her. But he couldn't use the words that were currently running amok in his head. Sin took a few trills before answering, having trouble finding the right words to bring forth his thoughts without insulting the warden too directly. "What if... What if the best the warden can do is way below what I could do with his position? "Sir, what if I can't? I have faith in the men I came with here this trial. I have no doubt in my mind that my unit and I can trust each other with our lives. And that the units position on our flanks will their best to protect it, just as we do for them. But what if I just can't think that way about the warden? No matter how I look at him, all I see is someone who's turned a sparring session with two new squires into a show for knights."
His words weren't too far from the truth. Of course, he'd left out all the curse words and insults he could think off but the underlying message was true enough. Not even for a trill could he believe that the warden had the ability to lead these knights and make sure they won. "I mean, I could maybe put some faith in you, you look capable enough. But you're a skyrider so that faith wouldn't do me much good." Sin looked away from the captain after his words, trying not to keep eye contact with her but also not look away too much. The tip of the nose worked, usually.
Sin shifted uncomfortable from one leg to the other, trying to keep the cold from invading his leather boots too much. Nothing kept you awake at night more than freezing off some toes. He wondered if maybe, just this once, he could tell someone higher up what he really thought. If there were no strings attached, no latrine duty for a season, because of him voicing his own thoughts about someone higher ranked than him. Someone who, honestly, didn't deserve the rank anyway. But then he remembered that the higher ups were the ones who put the warden where he was now so he doubted any support he could get from them.
The frown between her brows deepened as she considered his words and restless actions. It still wasn’t entirely true and during her impromptu speches his eyes had taken on the glazed, listless look of someone who was no longer listening. It was a look she knew well, she’d mastered it nearly a decade ago as a Squire herself. In the end, the woman realised that she still didn’t understand what he meant.
“I’m confused,” she admitted, “you have faith in your unit because it’s been built up over time, I presume? You know the men you work with have got your back when it comes to it.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, that was simple. She could understand his sentiment when it came to his crew. Units could be like families, closer sometimes. Her own feet were growing numb and she moved away from the tree, setting off once again between the trees and gesturing the man to follow. They skirted the edge of the camp.
“You can’t think that way about the Warden though?” She glanced at him and let out a slow sigh, “If you feel, genuinely that you do not trust his leadership, I’m afraid it’s where we come to an impasse. You’re a member of the Iron Hand. None of us get to choose our commanders. If the Warden says jump we jump, if he tells us to leap in front of the next sword, we do it. No question, no challenge, no hesitation. There’s no middle ground, Squire. You’re either in or you’re out. You either submit to faith, or you leave.” She glanced at him, features softened with regret. He seemed, at heart to be a good man. Reckless maybe, and confused and…antagonistic towards Malcolm which she struggled to not take personally. However, if he chose to be a disruptive force then unfortunately she would have no choice but to dismiss him from the ranks. She could argue with him about the show Malcolm had provided with the Squires, but suspected he might see the response negatively.
“You think he was trying to shame them with an audience?” Another sidelong glance, she wriggled her toes in her boots as they walked, “you wanted to shame him in turn?”
It was awkward, standing there with the captain, both of them suffering from the cold, all because he'd managed a blow to the warden during a sparring match for which he'd been invited. It wasn't his fault nobody had thought him capable enough to... No, maybe the captain was right? Maybe it was just all his fault and he couldn't see it? Things weren't going very well with her up to the point where she admitted to being confused. Her confusion surprised him. Sin had met many ranking officers in his time, considering he was a squire, everyone was a ranking officer to him. But he had never met anyone willing to admit they didn't understand something he told them. He'd often seen it on their faces right before they discarded his thoughts or ideas as rubbish, but never had anyone admitted it to his face. Maybe, just maybe...
When she stood up from against the tree and motioned for him to follow her, Sin was happy that he'd managed to toughen out long enough for her to admit the cold first. Or maybe she was actually nice and had noticed he was having trouble with the cold. With her words still lingering in his mind, Sin walked after her and then next to her, his longer legs allowing him to walk more quickly. Maybe, just maybe... Sin focused on his breath for a moment. Four in, one, two, three, four and six out, one, two, three, four, five, six. Just like the doctor ordered. He repeated the same exercise as they walked and while the captain continued to talk.
Everything she had to say was right and, unlike before, Sin was actually paying attention now. He was glad she didn't bring up the mercenary part anymore even if all her words were aimed in the same direction. Either he followed suit or he left. No other choices. Considering the Iron Hands past and the amount of major operations like this one in the past five arcs, Sin wasn't about to stand down from this one. There wouldn't be many chances after this one to show his worth. Their feet and conversation carried them around the outer ring of the camp, often seen by guards or patrols who recognized both Sin's tabard colors and the captain's outfit, leaving them alone.
With his mind calm from the exercise, Sin did exactly as the captain had been preaching. He took his leap of faith. Maybe, just maybe... "It has nothing to do with time. I have faith in my unit because they listen to my orders." If ever a statement would take a member of the Iron Hand by surprise, this would be the one. A squire claiming to command a unit was considered preposterous by mostly everyone ever in the Iron Hand. A white tabard wearing member of the Iron Hand leading a group of five or six knights, the smallest formation of a unit, was unheard of. Not giving the captain a chance to react, Sin continued to talk. "When my unit looks at me and around them, they see that. Seven people together, following orders in a big mass of other units that do exactly the same. They don't even wonder whether the orders are right or wrong. Orders are just orders. When the warden says jump, they jump, when the warden directs them in a formation, they do that. They only see who is immediately around them. The enemy is right there. Go kill it. They follow orders. When I look at my unit, I see them and countless others stretching out over this entire encampment." Sin waved his free hand towards the camp they were walking along.
"I see how they're set up, where they're most likely to get killed from. I see all the ways my unit could die together with the units around them. I see where they should go if a fire breaks out or the enemy charges us with horses or they rain arrows on us or we're suddenly flooded because of some immortal wishing it so. When the warden tells me to jump, I see where we're going to land, who's going to be there with me and how many enemies will be around us when we do. When he tells me to leap in front of the next sword, I see all the faults in our formation and all the opportunities in those of the enemy. I see where my unit should strike so they can do the most damage without taking any themselves, I see how the units around us should form up for maximum killing efficiency while surviving the encounter and I see how they don't because the orders from higher up are... are... wrong. I don't question, challenge out loud or hesitate when ordered. But I understand in a much larger scope than my unit and the units around me what is going on and how wrong it is going."
Sin stopped walking suddenly, looking at all the white surrounding their camp. His eyes fixed on some random blur of white in the distance for a trill before he pulled himself from his thoughts to focus back on the captain. Maybe, just maybe... "Every time I look at my friends I see the hundred ways they're about to die and the five ways I can maybe save some of them. And they keep running headlong towards one of the first hundred, following their orders." Sin looked spent as he spoke, completely and utterly exhausted. He looked more like a knight who'd fought through multiple trials of combat in direct succession than a squire at the beginning of a campaign. He hadn't told so much truth in such a short span of time since his mother had found him with his hand in the honey jar. He disliked feeling powerless and having to put all this faith into a person who had seemed at least a little bit understanding had put more of Sin on the powerless part of the scale than he cared to admit.
“Why do they listen to your orders?” Elyna made no attempt to hide her shock at his claim to power. Was the Squire more talented and battle ready then his tabard suggested? She tilted her head to survey him again. He was still older than she’d first assumed. If he’d been training the same length of time than she had, then it make sense he’d have more experience. Yet he’d only just joined the Iron Hand to still be a squire. Or had he done something awful that resulted in a demotion? If so, why would his presence in the unit command so much respect? Or perhaps, she reasoned finally, he just meant that they valued his contributions, as any good unit with a tendency to problem solve…
“What you’re describing, in what you see is a leader.” Elyna had spotted a quiet campfire and diverted their route towards the flame. Extended her fingers towards the heat she felt her toes thawing in her boots. They felt as though they’d turned into lumps of ice, despite her best efforts. “You consider the angles and make the best possible decisions with the knowledge and experience that you have.” It was all any of them could do.
The corner of her mouth twitched once more before she could school the expression. Malcolm had over four hundred arcs of experience. His actions was considered, calculated. She’d never know him do anything without good reason – except marry her of course or the few times that he’d lost his temper. Rare times, the knowledge of which would shock his regular unit. They’d known him for longer than she had and she was confident he’d never let emotion rule when at work with the Iron Hand; that was something reserved for their private life alone. The chaotic, turbulent tangle that was their lives.
“I think,” she pulled herself back to the question at hand. Her fingers brushing against the freckles on her nose, “the mistake that you make, is in your belief that the Warden doesn’t take these things into consideration, that his actions aren’t considered for the good of his team. I can guarantee you, that he see’s the same perils and makes the same calculations of risk, damage limitation, defence and attack. Only he comes to the conclusions that his experience leads him to, as you will also. Where you seek to bring shame upon our leader, or you say that he’s wrong so easily, you show your folly and your own inexperience. You make judgements on his ability based on the decisions you would make in his position. But you’re not in his position, you can imagine and announce and think and dream up a thousand scenarios of how you would do things differently, and you are still not in his position. The fate and responsibility of a hundred lives are not in your hands. When you reach the higher ranks, and I’m sure that you’re determined to do so, perhaps you will consider your thoughts differently then.” The woman drew in a breath, another speech. This man was never going to believe she wasn’t a big talker, “our fate, and the fate of the people we love are in his hands. I doubt I will convince you otherwise…but next time you want to take a pot shot at the Warden, don’t.”
Sin felt tired, exhausted even. He barely had the will to keep a grip on his sword. Trudging through the snow while they each took turns trying to explain their vision of the warden, knowing that the other wouldn't truly understand or give way, drained Sin of what little stamina he had left. When he'd finished speaking, the captain had responded with a single question. Even without knowing her, Sin could hear the surprise in her voice. While they walked to an outlying fire, she brought her side of the view into the world, explaining everything she thought and felt. Maybe she was just right and he was nothing more than a troublemaker?
The fire was most welcome as they stood around it. His boots were warming up quickly as he stood close to it, his cold toes warming up inside as well. He couldn't muster up the strength to look at her as she talked. Instead he let his vision blur over the flickering flames in front of him. Her words did all reach him but Sin didn't make an effort to retort, not at first. He simply stood there, warming one hand by the fire, staring into the flames. It was true that blaming others with more power was easy. You couldn't see all the difficulties that surrounded any decision taken from higher up. The view was distorted, often only showing the end results of said decision. But Sin couldn't bring himself to believe that he couldn't see it. "I wasn't... I wasn't trying to take a pot shot at anyone." Sin didn't sound to convinced himself as he tried to defend himself.
His view of the world had always been broader than that of the men and women around him. In recent arcs, through his unbridled studies and experiences, his ability had only expanded even more, become sharper, broader and backed up with much more knowledge. Forgetting his surroundings and who he was speaking with, Sin dropped his blade on the ground where the fire had melted the snow. Pulling his cloak underneath him, Sin just sat down on top of it, eyes never leaving the fire. For a few trills he sat there, staring, thinking.
When he finally spoke, Sin sounded empty, hollow. At first, the words came slowly, without the conviction he'd had in his previous speech, but the more he spoke, the quicker they came, like a dam had burst on his thoughts. "The problem... I lack the qualities that...that this kingdom has decided are most important for advancement through the ranks." Sin patted the part of his scabbard sticking out from under him. "Skill with the blade and physical ability... Well, the latter makes the former harder. I'll never reach the rank I need to truly be able to use my skills. A complication at birth, you know. Born too early and now my lungs can't handle the air my body needs to function. My muscles tire out quicker and don't develop past a certain point. Quicker to fall ill. Slower to recover. Years of exercise to try and get over my limitations and still I'm unable to win from new squires simply because they can put strength behind their blows and outrun me. Even on my best days there is a chance my own body tries to kill me."
Sin couldn't help but snicker at himself. "Oldest squire in the history of the Iron Hand. Four arcs over the maximum age for a squire... Jaks can't tell the difference between a V formation and a wedge, let alone larger scale formations or tactics, but he can swing his sword a hundred times without needing to rest for a break to catch his breath. So Jaks will become a knight before me, even though he's only been a squire a sixth of the time I have spent here." Sin thought that Jaks deserved it, despite his lack of military insight, he felt the young squire in Heran's unit had done more than enough to deserve his rank. Did he think Jaks would ever make it past Steward? No, he was too much like Heran for that. But Jaks would advance and Sin would remain a white wearing squire.
"My father used to be in the Iron Hand. He was a captain before he retired. I guess he was even a little famous in certain circles. I learned everything I know about the Iron Hand from him. I can't even remember how many breaks he spent with me in order to try and improve me, to get over the illness. But every time I get close, I either relapse or something else happens, as if the immortals don't want me to reach my potential. I don't actually need the rank. I just need someone who trusts me to hold the rank, they deserve it more than I do anyway. That's how it is now, you know." Sin turned away from the fire to face the captain next to him. When he saw her all he saw was a woman who had been listening to him talk for the past bits, he didn't know how many had passed since he'd followed her out of the training ground. She'd gone from captain to random stranger who has to listen to his problems so the Iron Hand etiquette was far removed from his mind in this moment.
"A steward who served under my father, understands my abilities and is smart enough to realize that I can keep them alive, a group of knights under his command that either trust him or served my father as well and a squire who is such a poster boy for the Iron Hand that he doesn't care as long as he's given orders. It's not even my army, no matter how I look at it. It's always my parents who get things done." His eyes shifted back to the fire, staring through it more than into it. "And now this. I let myself get carried by emotions that have no place here. I struck at a result of a bigger problem, thinking it to be the source. I wanted to hit him for nobody else but myself. I could twist it into a positive light if given the chance, but I doubt I'll be getting one.
He gave her a long, but honest explanation and the woman couldn’t help but feel empathy towards him. To watch people rise in ranks whilst you stayed behind? It was something she had experienced. Not to the same extent as after all, she’d reached the rank of Sargeant before her most recent promotion. Did he want her pity though? “You cannot lie to me,” she reminded him with a half-smile as he protested once more that it hadn’t been a pot shot. She lifted small hands and held them palm out to the flames.
She considered her response, not wanting to appear dismissive of his problems and feeling more than a little humbled that he’d been so open and laid his insecurities bare. He believed that as a strategist he would be less useful to the Iron Hand? Leaders were in rare supply and surely someone with the ability to view the bigger picture would be invaluable, no matter what other skills and abilities they possessed. Although, though his words spoke of talent, he hadn’t proved himself to her, or the Warden and she frowned at the flickering heat, watching the shadows dance.
“My daughter is less than sixty trials old,” the woman glanced across at him, “I can understand a little of the frustration you feel, with a body that does not respond how you would like.” Training to get back into shape had been harsh and skyrider wasn’t yet convinced that she was back to full fitness. It was a worry at the back of her mind, what if it meant the difference between her life and death, or someone elses? “Yet,” the frown deepened, “I know that my worth to the ‘Hand is more than my ability to swing a sword or draw a bow, or even to fly over these barren trees.”
She lifted her gaze, “your worth is greater too. Recognised by the folk who trusted your father. Until you realise that worth yourself though, Squire and can trust in it, you will see the world speeding by without you. When really, the only obstacle between yourself and climbing ranks…is you.” It was then that she lifted a hand and pressed it lightly to his arm.
“My advice would be to detach from the unit where you feel safe. You’re yet to prove yourself on this campaign to any other commander and this is your chance. If you stay with your Father’s old command you will remain under his shadow, and at risk of believing that any respect, is merely an extension of their feeling to him. So take the chance to start fresh and be your own person. In time, you could return to the group, whole. Confident in your worth.”
She released his arm and turned to leave, “there are opportunities here. Take them, don’t spit on them.”
The more bits he spent with the woman, the more Sin began to realize that maybe he had trusted the wrong person. She didn't judge him or belittle his weakness. It did sound like she compared him to her recently born baby at first but a few trills later he understood what she meant. His knowledge on the human reproduction was limited at best but he knew that the woman, much like with Yludih, carried the child until it was born, a time during which they were incredibly weak as well as many trials afterwards. It could even take up to a season for a woman to recover fully from the experience. So the comparison was between her temporary setback and his lifelong chains.
He overlooked her words. It wasn't the first and definitely not the last time people thought they understood what was wrong with. But then again, how could they ever understand when everything they knew about him was a lie? The lips he used to tell them about his problems? Illusions. The hands he used to hand them things while he spoke? Illusions. The eyes he spotted their unease with? Illusions. The ears that picked up on their so-called help? Illusions. The truth? Even his best friends would kill him on sight if they ever learned it. So it was no surprise that they came up with all sorts of advice that would never work for him.
When her hand pressed on his arm, Sin turned his attention away from the flames to look towards the woman next to him. For the first time in a long time, Sin heard some useful words coming out of the mouth of an Iron Hand knight. Perhaps the safety of his father's fame had held him back, instead of being the only way forward? Maybe he had gotten a little used to his squire position. In the end, what did the white on his tabard mean besides the fact that he had to wash it more often? Wasn't he the perfect person to know exactly what he was capable of and how far he could reach? Perhaps all this effort used moping and complaining should have been spent elsewhere?
The captain's hand moved from his shoulder and she started to turn. Sin quickly pushed himself up from the ground, realizing that their time was up. Session over. Quickly slapping of any mud on his pants and armor, Sin pulled himself up straight, bringing his hand up in a salute. "Captain Burhan? I... eh... I'd like to go and apologize to the warden. I was thinking maybe you could go with me, he'll feel safer that way?" Sin's lips formed an apologetic smile. Perhaps his joke wasn't in good taste but the lingering sense of understanding, and possibly friendship, between the two of them slipped through his professional attitude. "But I need to go see a friend first and explain some things. If.. if that is ok with you?"
Maybe he could at least get Faith to understand why he'd done what he'd done. She would listen and smile at him and tell him that what he'd done wasn't wrong. She always managed to make him feel better, even if she still insisted on calling him mister, as if he was an old man. He doubted the warden would understand. But it was Sin's mistake and he would own up to it. After that, he would go and see Heran and inform him that this was most likely going to be their last campaign together until he had surpassed the man in rank. He knew Heran would give him a good slap on the back and congratulate him on his decision even if it wasn't really his own. But the captain could be right and as a scholar, Sin had to test it for himself to see if it was.
