"I'm not sure they'll be all that interested in what should happen. We'll see what kind of mood they're in if they ever make it to us." If they ride in armed and dragging trebuchets, well, that will be telling enough.

They're still sitting close enough that he can feel faint warmth against his side. He's surprised at how glad he is of it given the turn in the conversation. Sometimes he thinks his equanimity at the idea of being hauled before the Seekers is just exhaustion and a hefty cloak of denial to allow himself to continue to function. At other times, he wonders if it's a sign of some deeper malaise of spirit, or guilt whispering to him that if it happens, he'd deserve it.

"You're good for me." One corner of his mouth draws back, too faint to qualify as a smile. "Strange world we've come to when a mage will tell a templar he's doing a good job. Thank you for that."