[ the words do not hurt him — he feels sorrow, but not for himself. anyone who feared a king did so with good reason.

it is a shame that she has been given one of her own.

an arm crosses over his chest, and he slowly rises again. percival shakes his head, smiling. ]

Trust is earned, not given. I'm but a stranger to you — you owe me nothing.

[ his eyes are soft as he speaks. ]

I have few doubts that our paths will cross again. If you're in need of aid or protection, I'll be at your disposal. For the meanwhile, I suppose I should leave you be.

[ and so he kneels down to pick up his sword, sheathing it once again. ]

Take care, Lady Caster.