"The potentate is the head of the government of Central, which is the nation that includes Rabbitround and Creekcross and a bunch of others... and gets old and dies like everyone else, so usually makes whoever's going to replace them in that job..."

So... the president? King? Made his successor speak their language in a way that upset them so much it started a war. Indirectly, but still... did the potentate do it on purpose?

He almost asks what language Seventhround speaks so he can avoid learning it, but realizes this might be insulting itself. "And... which side were you made on?" Could you make people with certain loyalties? Presumably you could at least somewhat influence it, or else making someone 'for a war' would be pretty risky...

"I was fighting with the Central forces, of course!"

Of course. Because everyone on the other side would be dead? Or maybe just in prison or not allowed to go to another round in Central?

There's a mild chill on the back of his neck, and a slight tightening in the base of his stomach. It's slightly different from the feeling of being exposed from his misleading evasions...

Feeling creeped out? he internally checks.

The feeling gently resonates in a way he interprets to mean yes but not quite.

Creeped out by her? By the idea of making brainwashed soldiers?

Nothing from the feeling. It just sits there, in his lower stomach, slowly swirling.

And in his throat. Making it slightly hard to speak.

Afraid to say the wrong thing?

The thing in his stomach contracts into a tighter coil. Yes.

He swallows. Only a couple seconds have passed since she spoke, and he tries a smile. "Glad you got through it okay."

Worried about being seen as someone with the wrong politics?

Yes, the feeling sends as it resonates like a struck gong, melting slightly into a less tense puddle of dread. Yes. That.

"It was a pretty short dustup. Less than a week. But I'm lucky, yeah."

He tries to imagine a war that only lasts a week, being fought with... swords and bows? "I don't think I met anyone made for a war before. What did you get that most don't?"

"Get?"

He wonders if he got the term wrong, and decides to echo what she said earlier. "Was there anything in there ready to pick up, that other makers don't usually put in?"

"- well, how to fight, of course, and a certain temporary tolerance of violence."

"Sorry if these questions are strange, but I really don't know what war on rounds looks like. Is it okay to ask what sort of fighting? And how can traits you're made with be temporary?"

"War on - rounds? As opposed to, what, sail-to-sail combat?"

Well, when she puts it like that it does seem... impractical. Rounds are much, much closer to each other than planets in his home solar system, but it would still be incredibly hard to spot other ships moving between them, and given the mutual reliance on astral winds, overtaking an enemy would be pretty hard unless you got really lucky with initial positioning.

But surely some battles take place between sails? Or is he just too fixated on what would obviously happen if this were a book or movie?

"I guess I don't really know what war off rounds would look like either, but I was trying to be specific."

"I killed a bunch of people. Most of them had been made just that week same as me. I had a spear. I don't know what you're trying to find out here."

"...Just trying to understand how different life can be, for others made in different circumstances. Sorry if I dredged up bad memories."

"I wasn't made to like it, no one civilized does that. I wanted it to be over so I could go do something else."

"That makes sense." This isn't an entirely academic question, but he's not sure how to bring up his own worries about himself without things getting sidetracked again. "I'm just trying to understand what it felt like, you can tell me if you'd rather I stop asking questions. And I don't mean how it felt to hurt people, I meant... things like, when you said a temporary tolerance, did you mean it would naturally fade over time? Or it was temporary because more exposure to violence would reliably make it fade?"

"I don't really want to talk about it anymore." She gives herself a little shake, gulps her water, and wades back into the dance.

He watches her go with a sigh, hoping he didn't just ruin her day (or her "wake," or whatever). It seemed like a good idea to make some friends before the voyage, but there's a chance he just made it an awkward one for her if he does get to go, or sank his chances altogether.

(And... it may just be a coincidence, but he's starting to notice a pattern around answers to questions about making humans. Or rather, the lack of answers. He'd think it was a cultural taboo of some sort, but it doesn't seem like people are flustered or embarrassed. They just... don't seem to want to talk about the details, and straightforward questions seem to get deflected so subtly he very well may be imagining it.)

((He hopes he's imagining it. Some of the explanations that come to mind for why are pretty creepy, and wouldn't bode well for his ability to stay undetected here for long.))

Did Kasnta's friend follow her?

Kasnta's friend is still sipping water but isn't looking at him.

Whelp, no use making them feel more awkward. "Sorry about that," he says, then heads off toward the market to vaguely wander around and see if anything else catches his attention, or anyone else with those armbands are walking around and not looking too busy for a chat.

There's an armbanded person haggling for socks. There's one eating a sandwich. There's one flirting with a local.

Oo, haggling is a skill he'd like to get better at. He'll listen in on the haggler, hoping to get a sense of how to do it well (or maybe just not do it poorly, at least).

"If you had the rust in my size, maybe, but since I have to settle for the green, no way."

"They'll last longer than what you're replacing."

"And they'll be green the entire time! Take fifteen percent off of them for me and I'll walk out with them now, otherwise I'm going to check the place down the way."

He looks down at his bare feet and wonders if he should get socks. It would be weird having things around his feet again, losing the direct sensations of the ground with each step, but if it gets cold enough here eventually, or on Rabbitround, he may need some.