Lorag shook his head. "He kept himself separate from his men. Professional. He didn't want to get mixed up in attachments with his soldiers. It wasn't like I was friends with him; I respected him. We all respected him, at least all of us that didn't care that he was a cat. He commanded that respect not because he wanted to be our friends, or because he was lenient, or strict, but because his actions demanded it. He was like...a symbol of Imperial might or somethin'. I respected him more than my own father."

Tightening his grip on the bottle of ale, Lorag took a drink with an increasingly frustrated expression. "It just doesn't make any sense, any of it. This isn't like him. Vile is a selfish Daedra that deals with selfish people. He appeals to greed, to pride, to people wantin' power and all that. Do'rhajul was never any of that. He served the legion with honor, and a purpose beyond gold. This can't be the same Khajiit."

---

Ma'tanza gave a slight giggle. "A little." She answered as she laid herself back on the bedroll with her hands behind her head. Her gaze focused on the stars above them, which, with the sun setting over the horizon, were growing brighter by the minute. As per usual in the desert, the sky was perfectly clear, so there was nothing to obstruct her view of the moons and constellations. 

"You look like you'll be asleep a lot sooner than this one, though. Promise this one that you won't keep staying up like that on her account, though. You need to be nice and alert on a march like this, especially when it comes time to actually treat the wounded. As a healers' assistant, you can't afford to make any mistakes. A potion of healing, and a potion of fire resistance look very similar, but only one of them will keep someone from bleeding to death while they are waiting on a healer." She commented.