Carver watched Separ enter his tent. The man was generous in his defense of Carver, but ultimately, misguided. It had not been his responsibility to defend the village, nor Kelvin's, nor Vis's. When Carver put on the armor, he swore an oath - he made the defense of all things good and peaceful his responsibility forevermore.

The refugee's words were compelling, however. Truly, the man had lost much, endured much, and he deserved to be heard out at the least.

"If you do take responsibility," said the refugee, "I do expect reparations. Safe passage to other towns. The lives of people are not insurable, but I expect at least the compensation for everything I've lost. I'm a merchant who had a pretty penny to his name. I've lost a lot. This would mean paying off a large monetary debt, however long it takes."

Without him even realizing it, Carver's upper lip curled into an expression of disgust at the words. "So that's it, then? [i]Money.[/i]" The paladin rounded on the man, hands clenching into fists. "You speak of [i]money[/i] when homes are gutted and pillaged. You speak of money when innocents are slaughtered, women defiled, children [i]burned.[/i] You've borne witness to carnage indescribable, and yet you have words for your fortune?!"

The knight was shouting now, the full weight of his fury bearing down on the man. "What I failed was beyond sums and figures. The peaceful life that was taken from those villagers was worth more than all the coin you could ever put your hands on. I will live in penance for this failure and for many others, but I will [i]not[/i] spend my days recompensing a miser his 'pretty penny.'"

Carver turned to walk towards his tent. Almost as an after-thought, he yanked his coinpurse from his side and tossed it over to the man. "There. Ten coins, all the money to my name. Take it, if you value it so greatly. I do not care for its [i]stink.[/i]"

With that, the paladin entered the tent, still bristling with indignation.