Caelan said nothing at first, letting her words drown into the crackle of the nearby fire. She was full of sarcasm and scorn, but he did not respond to it in a similar fashion. His younger self would have, but that was some time ago, and with age came experience. Might seem foolhardy to think such for a twenty year old, but he had seen much more in those twenty years than some saw in a lifetime, and a lot of it had been things he wished he'd never seen. Instead, he breathed slow and deeply, his eyes watching the fire instead of her, for now.
When he did speak, his words began soft; voice low and even.
"As one Jedi to another, I will not quarrel with your judgments of me. If I am naïve, so be it. If I am a fool, then let me remain one. Better to cling to foolish hope than to abandon it for the ease of despair."
He let those words sink in for a moment before continuing.
"The Siren's song you describe, I have heard. I have seen good men follow it until they mistook their scars for wisdom, their surrender for clarity. You speak of it as though it cannot be resisted. But I have chosen to resist, not because I am blind to the darkness, but because I refuse to let the darkness tell me who I must become."
The fire popped and hissed, as if uncomfortable with his speech, but he merely watched it. Fire was not alive in the truest since of the word, but it ate as though it were a ravenous beast, and would consume any fuel placed before it, much like the machine of war. It seemed fitting that they stood near it and spoke of the topic they did. Before he continued, his bearing and tone shifted, becoming more regal, straight backed.
"As a King, I am not free to think only of myself. My survival is not mine alone, it belongs to the people who entrust me with their lives. I cannot revel in the glory of battle, nor surrender to hopelessness, for both are a betrayal to those I serve. They do not need a ruler drunk on bloodshed, nor one broken by despair. They need a sovereign who endures, even mocked as naïve, even dismissed as a fool, so long as hope endures with him. You may not recall my name, you may never care to, and that is no burden. I do not need remembrance. I need only that my people, and my children, live."
He turned to face her then, face focused, eyebrows even. No malice or disdain, just a cool focus on the situation at hand, and his obvious dealing with some of Pantoran import, an older being who viewed his youth as testament to his experience rather than measuring actual experience.
"You ask if I would run to my foes and beg them to yield. Perhaps I would. And if that plea spares a single life, if one family is kept whole, then let me be mocked for it. Let it be called weakness. I will bear it gladly. For my worth is not measured in victories won or enemies slain, but in how many are spared from the pyre. That is the only triumph worth enduring for."
Connel Vanagor
