He frowned and glanced at her quizzically. Though she claimed she was not a soldier, Edda nonetheless gave valuable insight, even if she did not know it. Kasrjin remained silent for a long while to gather his thoughts before speaking.
"To fight is to take action with intent to kill," the Xaela rumbled, speaking slowly and deliberately. He was careful in his word choice so as to avoid ambiguity. "There is no violence without the intention of fatal harm. What purpose is there in combat that fails to slay an opponent?" Kasrjin's frown deepened, attempting to process the implications of Edda's advice. The more he thought about it, the more it confused him, and the more it confused him, the greater his need to vocalise it.
"If the circumstance has deteriorated to the point of engaging in battle, then to fight and not kill is futile, for violence means all previous discourse has failed. At that point, permanent victory over your foe is the only thing that matters." His emerald eyes were shimmering, his face an unusual expression of meticulous contemplation. It was the most words he had spoken in a single timespan, and the Xaela's confidence in the language seemed unwavering in this moment in sharp contrast to the uncertain wobbles that occasional permeated his sentences.
Kasrjin exhaled, staring at the snow-filled horizon. "To fight is to remove an impending threat, and to destroy its potential of becoming a threat in the future. Hesitation brings nothing but regret."
He understood something slightly more. It was not his defence of himself that these westerners abhorred, but it was the result. To kill, to remove one's ability to become a threat to one's self and one's peers, was not an idea that seemed very much appreciated for reasons the Au Ra could not begin to fathom.
They continued their journey in silence, and Kasrjin refused to speak. By the time an imposing length of stone walls made itself visible, the sun had completed the majority of its exodus across the sky even and only a few rebellious beams of light managed to faintly pierce through the canopy of clouds above them. Kasrjin turned his attention from the female next to him and instead studied the fortifications of the settlement. The ramparts were high, almost absurdly so, and the battlements were studded with intimidating structures armed with harpoons of black spears. Several individuals, armoured in chainmail, stood on the walls. One of them was speaking to another as the trio approached the gates, and this particular one glanced at the group before placing a hand near his mouth and shouting. "Deneith!"
"To fight is to take action with intent to kill," the Xaela rumbled, speaking slowly and deliberately. He was careful in his word choice so as to avoid ambiguity. "There is no violence without the intention of fatal harm. What purpose is there in combat that fails to slay an opponent?" Kasrjin's frown deepened, attempting to process the implications of Edda's advice. The more he thought about it, the more it confused him, and the more it confused him, the greater his need to vocalise it.
"If the circumstance has deteriorated to the point of engaging in battle, then to fight and not kill is futile, for violence means all previous discourse has failed. At that point, permanent victory over your foe is the only thing that matters." His emerald eyes were shimmering, his face an unusual expression of meticulous contemplation. It was the most words he had spoken in a single timespan, and the Xaela's confidence in the language seemed unwavering in this moment in sharp contrast to the uncertain wobbles that occasional permeated his sentences.
Kasrjin exhaled, staring at the snow-filled horizon. "To fight is to remove an impending threat, and to destroy its potential of becoming a threat in the future. Hesitation brings nothing but regret."
He understood something slightly more. It was not his defence of himself that these westerners abhorred, but it was the result. To kill, to remove one's ability to become a threat to one's self and one's peers, was not an idea that seemed very much appreciated for reasons the Au Ra could not begin to fathom.
They continued their journey in silence, and Kasrjin refused to speak. By the time an imposing length of stone walls made itself visible, the sun had completed the majority of its exodus across the sky even and only a few rebellious beams of light managed to faintly pierce through the canopy of clouds above them. Kasrjin turned his attention from the female next to him and instead studied the fortifications of the settlement. The ramparts were high, almost absurdly so, and the battlements were studded with intimidating structures armed with harpoons of black spears. Several individuals, armoured in chainmail, stood on the walls. One of them was speaking to another as the trio approached the gates, and this particular one glanced at the group before placing a hand near his mouth and shouting. "Deneith!"
