Kiara's questioning annoyed Ostus, though he expected it coming. It was just like a woman to criticize in this fashion, and it was all he could do from rolling his eyes at her. Furthermore, her ignorance at the way he treated her further cemented the gap between someone like him and someone like her. Astora offered many wonderful privileges for its citizens that other countries did not, but equality wasn't one of them, as much as others liked to believe otherwise. At the end of the day, there were those that fought wars and those that stood back and discussed them. There were those that made swords, those that fought and died by those swords, and those that merely discussed what happened. Sure, Astora's palace may not be nearly so grand and imposing as the Berinike castle, and the politicians that ran the country boasted about not being paid as much, but he could almost bet his life that this girl had not seen real combat, had not almost died time and time again to someone fighting for their loved ones back at their country. She had probably never been close to anyone only to have those friends die right in battle right next to him. And for what? This war had been going on for so long that Ostus didn't know what they were fighting for anymore. Most soldiers didn't. No wonder this had gone on for so long.

He licked his lips, prepared to tell her just that when she blurted out her comment about marriage.

The expression on Kiara's face wasn't lost on Ostus. He hadn't realized how much his comment had hurt her, which plunged his heart into guilt...

...for all of a second, when she opened her mouth and continued the argument. That guilt flared to anger.

"Because it [i]is[/i] that easy," he snapped back, feeling his jaw tighten by the anger. "Because if this would have happened a lot sooner, countless lives would have been spared. You think you know fucking everything that goes on around you, but you don't. You haven't seen the fields of slaughtered soldiers, perished to keep up [i]your[/i] lavish lifestyle. You haven't lost friends, loved ones... you haven't woken up and wondered if that would be the last time you'd ever see a sunrise. Do you realize how many people would love to be in your shoes right now? Do you know how many people would rather get married to some stranger and live to make the most out of the situation than be just another nameless dead body in another battlefield? I'm sorry you have to marry a fucking stranger and I hope he isn't one of those wife-beating pricks, but pull your head out of your ass just long enough to--"

He cut himself off, realizing that Kiara was no longer paying attention. She was ignoring him, leaving. Ostus fumed.

"Fine," he called out after her. "Do what you want, feel how you wish. My job isn't to get involved with your bullshit opinions. My job is just to get your ass safely from point A to point B and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Find yourself some peasant clothes to wear and pack lightly; we leave tonight as the sun sets."

The next few hours were a blur as he worked through his own anger to get ready. Kiara's hurt-stricken expression seemed to have burned into his mind; he couldn't stop thinking about it. Admittedly, he did feel guilty about what he had said to her. She was willingly about to embark on a potentially dangerous journey to marry the enemy for him, for her country, so that everyone could maintain the lifestyle and ideals Astora had shed so much blood to keep. Still, she knew so little about the world outside the palace walls... she had never experienced the hardships he had endured...

The inner turmoil between guilt and anger left Ostus more emotionally drained than he liked. He waited quietly just outside the palace, back leaned against the wall, as he watched the sun begin to sink into the horizon. As though drawn to its fading light, traveling merchants with their wares filled the streets, slowly rolling down the dusty road in their wagons towards the city gates. Some would go home to their villages. Some would camp out in the nearest town and either move on the next morning or return. Even during war, Astora was always alive with trade and commerce; it was the country's lifeblood. The soldier was dressed in a faded green tunic, grey trousers, and matching boots. The long-sleeved shirt beneath the tunic hid the chain mail he wore underneath. His broadsword was sheathed and strapped to his back; with bandits in abundance on the roads, it was not at all uncommon for travelers to be armed. 

He longed for a good stiff drink. A hot meal. A rousing story or two from an over-eager bard. Perhaps even a bar wench to share his bed with for the night. He expected he would be unable to relax like that for a good few weeks at least. He hoped Princess Kiara knew how to ride a horse. It was going to be a very long trip indeed...