[viktor glances to the corner to see her gone, letting out a shaky sigh even as a spark of anger follows it. she got what she wanted, apparently, the game is over. they made it out, which is surprising.

he stands, picking up his cane to lean on as he regards his host.]

This world you've made, cavaliers are chosen young, yes? Chosen or linked for a duty of devotion, that is likely holy to them. An entire culture around the honor of it. I've seen the propaganda, in a memory. I know how they all speak of it, when they do.

There is no way that 'willing sacrifice' can be made in such an environment. Not raised that way, not with these holy mysteries and sacred duties. Lyctorhood is wrong. [his energy drains with a snap, fingers going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. at least no longer hopeless wrathful, just simmering.] For what it is worth I am indeed sorry the Trench forced this out of you, about her. I cannot say I am sorry for any of the rest.