"Younger? Gael is older than me." 

Clusters, not copies, he sends, amused. 

"Oh." 

He pauses. 

"Our last instance - he fought a war?" 

Yes. A war for freedom, from tyranny. And safety, for those he loved. 

He nods. 

"Did he lead?" 

Yes and no. A small group of those he trusted, and who trusted him. He was the ultimate leader, but in practise, they often simply worked together. 

That sounds... better, than anything he could have in the Cialin military. Even if he reaches General and gets his own elites, he'll be in charge of some part of the army, as well. 

"And..." he frowns, looking down. "How did he - deal with. People." 

Strangers. People he had no way of knowing he could trust. People who broke their word, or lied too well. 

He had people he trusted, he offers gently. There is no easy fix for this, he repeats what he told his wielder the night before. 

People he trusts are few and far between. His brothers, Istaim, maybe? 

He looks up at Deskyl. He thinks he trusts her. 

I'm planning on leaving. Her memories of that conversation aren't firm enough to say why, just a vague sense of 'not this kingdom'. I doubt it will work well for you to come with me.

Probably not. Jaim would be in... so much trouble, if he 'lost' Ilek. Even if he would understand the desire. 

He would probably help anyway, if Ilek asked. 

Is Ilek selfish enough to ask, is the question. 

"...Jaim will help. If I ask him to." What does she think? 

"Mmm..." I don't like the idea of leaving you here. It'd damage him, obviously, and the idea is distressing. War is like that sometimes, though - I don't know if it's like that this time.

Stormsinger offers her his concern; he has reason to believe leaving the young one behind would damage her. 

"I'm not. Absolutely necessary, to the kingdom. If Jaim were still crown prince, maybe. But he is technically filling the role of the Royal General. Gael will be king, and Rial will be the Ambassador to Sanctuary." 

He pauses. 

"We can just. Talk to Jaim. He'll be able to come up with options." 

Though of course that will almost certainly commit him to running away. If Jaim knows it's this bad... Jaim gives up too much for them, always. 

I'm already a Sith, Love. The damage is done, there; it'd hurt, but it wouldn't harm her.

We should, she signs. I trust his judgement.

You are a person, and one I care for, Stormsinger counters, I would not see you hurt could I help it. Hopefully the General will have a plan we can use. 

He looks to the window - it's definitely past time Jaim would be awake. He's not the best passive sensor, but - a breathing exercise lets him focus on his mana - he thinks his brother is in his own room, probably doing paperwork at his desk. They could ask him now. 

Does he really want to do this, though? 

He remembers the way it felt, when the members of his patrol gave their lives for him. With the rebellion - if that's where they end up - there will still be fighting, but no one will put his life above theirs unless they actually care for him. It would still be awful if they died for him, but at least it would mean something. And his position wouldn't oblige him to let them, if there was something he could do about it, even if it meant putting himself in danger. 

Yes, he decides. He's going to do this.

"Jaim is in his room," he says. 

Of course. But it's not a crisis if he doesn't.

I need to talk to my robot first, she tells Ilek. Shouldn't take long.

He nods, and looks around the room, finally spotting the person in question. He ducks his head, embarrassed by his lack of situational awareness. 

"Oh," he says, "I didn't see you. Sorry." 

"It's all right, sir."

Not really, he thinks, but he nods. 

"I'll... go make sure Jaim's ready to talk to us," he says. 

He doesn't really want to move yet, but he knows he will have to eventually. Reluctantly, he pushes the covers off his legs, and makes to stand. 

You can wait for me, if you want. I don't mean to kick you out.

He pauses half-way out of bed. He could just stay. Though. 

He glances down at his clothes. There's a burn hole in one of the sleeves, from a spar the day before, but they're alright otherwise. He should probably change before he leaves this floor of the CC, but that won't be right away. 

"...Ok," he says. He settles back down on the bed - and tentatively reaches out for her hand. 

She takes it and gives him a little squeeze.

Come here, Love, she signs.

    She comes to stand by the bed. Yes ma'am?

I need to know how you feel about the prince joining us when we leave.

There's a pause, and Deskyl squeezes Ilek's hand again. That's good, she sends to Stormsinger of it. She has trouble telling how she feels about things; if she says it straight away I know it's not really her. I have to ask twice, a lot of the time.

    Worried, ma'am.

Okay. Is there something specific that's worrying you?

    It bothers me that you need me less now; I don't know if he'll make that worse.

She nods. I need you less, but I still need you. He won't change that.

    Yes ma'am.

Is there anything else?

    Just that, ma'am.

Okay. I need you to tell me if there is, okay?

    Yes ma'am.

Good. Thank you. Do you want to come when we talk to his brother?

    Yes ma'am.

All right. She gives Ilek another squeeze and gets up to get her 'saber and Stormsinger, stowing them on opposite sides of her belt. We're going to need to find some sort of holster for you, or something.

I expect the General will be able to find a suitable scabbard, or at least arrange one to be made, he comments. His unusual shape does make standard scabbards rather useless. 

She is learning to express preferences? He asks of DZ. He has encountered this sort of behaviour before, among the freed human slaves in the time of the Great Uprising.