They would fain spit my head upon a pike ere I breathed even a word. And such is their right. Violence spent doth violence earn.

[ He's considered these things so many times in the past thousand years of his life. There is no right answer. For he, too, can't quite forgive the Hornsent for the things they've done - the horrors he bore witness to. But he's tired of fighting. ]

... I have spent years beyond thine imagining steeped in thoughts of this war. Thy suggestions are stale. [ a beat. ] The time for regret is long past. All that remains is to lament my foolishness, and my wretched fate.