Drust snorted, his lips pulling upward seethingly at Ghent’s comment. “A surgeon needs only to train his mind. Any half-wit scholar can become a surgeon. A knight, no matter their race, must master body, mind, and soul. Very few can become a true warrior.”
	Elayra picked up a stick from a pile of smaller kindling as Ghent mulled over Drust’s words. Placing her emptied canteen on the ground, she poked at the fire. Sparks crackled and popped into the air, making known their displeasure at the disturbance.
	She let out a snorting laugh at the concept of Ghent being [i]anyone’s[/i] adviser. “Not if [i]I[/i] have anything to say about it, Featherhead!”
	Drust’s eyes shifted to her for half a second, his neck twitching, before fixing back on Ghent. “Just as [i]Elayra[/i] will be your queen, and you duty bound to see to it her decisions are put into effect to their fullest extent.”
	Elayra silently reprimanded herself for letting their words rise beyond sounds.
	[i]Queen,[/i] she thought bitterly, poking the fire a bit harder at the reminder. One of the ember-gnawed logs shifted, and the tower she had made collapsed. She glowered at it. [i]Right.[/i]
	Drust heaved a sigh at Ghent’s additional question. “I was not officially apart of the council. I was Queen Alyce’s personal guard, so couldn’t represent the voice of the other White Knights. But I attended their meetings at her and Hatter’s request. There were nine members of the council. Including the Queen. Ten before the king’s death.”
	“None of that matters!” Elayra snapped, her hatred of the subject bursting up from inside her and gaining a glare and snarl from Drust. “None of that will help us now,” she tried to quickly amend, nearly stumbling over the words as she attempted to shove the emotions back to the recesses where they belonged. “Knowing that won’t make him,” she gestured to Ghent with the stick, its burnt end glowing red, “a better fighter, or help him survive here,” she finished, hoping to both cover up her outburst and appease Drust with a reason he would deem warranted.
	Drust’s neck twitched as he eyed her. Thankfully, he gave a snort in agreement then returned his attention to Ghent. “Keep the questions pertinent to the present,” he growled to Ghent. “Or get to work.”