[He listens without interrupting him, making moves when it's his turn but otherwise more focused on what he's saying than the game itself. He makes a couple of distracted mistakes that will make things more difficult further in the game.

When it seems he has wound down, he sits back and rests his hands on his thighs.]

I don't blame you.

[He feels that's the most important thing to get out of the way from his side of it.]

I think I was just as much a reason for it as you were, subconsciously. Or rather...a good fit? I knew from an early age I wanted to be a templar, to serve the Maker. I started official training when I was thirteen. I...once had a knight-commander to whom I was loyal the way you were to me that night.

[He rubs a slow hand across his jaw and chin, whiskers rasping.]

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I understand. I've felt...adrift...since arriving here. I was in command of an entire army with a purpose. A good one. So I'm not completely sure that even had you resisted, things wouldn't have happened the way they did anyway.

It was a...a commingling of need and experiences, two sides of the same coin.

[Not an easy admission, yet he'd feel like a coward if he left Anderson to swing in the wind with all he'd revealed.]

I'll keep your secrets. No one will hear of any of it from me. You do good work here. That's what matters.