[ Such a simple question gives him all of the context in the world, at the cost of Annette's emotions beginning to crumble. He can't pretend to understand— his battles had always been waged against nameless soldiers, his kills always justified as necessities for ridding the kingdom of a threat, for the greater good.

He had killed his friend, at his friend's behest. A mercy kill. And again, a kill justified to prevent the suffering of others.

Annette's kills seemed a lot more complicated than that. It made sense, given her talent in magic, that she would be recruited to fight, and even though he doesn't know the details, he still feels a pang of sadness at what she might've seen or done.

He sets his cup down. He's not good at this sort of thing, at reassurance. So he can only speak what's on his mind. ]

I think I understand, now.

You went through the worst kind of war of all. The kind of war that forces you to take arms against someone you might've fought alongside with in the past.

[ He grows quiet for a moment. It speaks volumes that she stands before him, and though her voice wavers and her eyes glisten, the fact that she's still here speaks volumes of her inner strength. ]

War is a necessary evil, but evil nonetheless. I'm sorry, Annette.

[ All he can do is lend and ear, unfortunately, and be here for her. ]