Tatehan pondered on this, standing there in his armor, his visor glowing faintly in the morning light, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to fade into the background. The sounds of the training field, the distant hum of the Skyblade's idling engines, the quiet murmur of conversation between Riven and Lyra: all of it became distant, muffled, as his mind turned inward.
For some reason, it did not feel quite right. Killing the battle commander after everything he had been through, after they had already broken him, extracted the information they needed, and reduced him to a shell of the man he had probably once been, it felt excessive. Cruel, even.
But then, as quickly as that thought surfaced, Tatehan recognized it for what it was: stupid sentiment.
