It was hard to say if the knight was truly listening to the Princess's words, however astute they were for her age or status, so starry was his gaze, so unmoving and impersonal seemed his armored frame. To Tali it certainly might have seemed as if Lady Leanjah was having little effect and was likely just wasting valuable time conversing with one too locked in self-pity to listen to the advice of others.

But Leanjah, close and attentive as she dared to be, could notice the smallest motions of the knight's cranium, minute and delicate movements, as if he was adjusting his hearing ever so slightly in order to parse her words. It was not easy to tell, but the knight was listening.

As the Princess's plaintive hand touched the knight's gauntlet, the helmeted head instantly twitched to set the visored gaze upon their contact. Rapidly jolting in subtle, miniscule motions, the knight scrutinized the dainty fingers, parsing them from different angles at a rapid pace. An instinctual response. A defensive measure. A touch that was led without aggression was foreign to Helbrecht, and for but a moment the girl could feel the massive, sitting frame shrink back ever so slightly from her presence, uncertain how to react to such a gentle gesture.

Looking into the knight's visor, the princess could have noted how the knight's veiled eyes stared back with renewed edge, clarity beginning to seep through the feverish sheen ever so slowly. Nonetheless, she could also see the occasional fly crawl over those unblinking, ceaselessly-staring eyes, the knight apparently beyond caring for the chitinous, hooked legs traipsing over his irises.

Was he even looking at her? With his gaze appearing so glassy, so detached, could it be that he was looking through her, having acquired a thousand-yard stare fit for the deluded? 

Peering closer, the princess might have noticed another oddity to the knight's gaze. Tiny, silvery lines, akin to gossamer danced nigh-invisible at the very edges of the errant's eyes. The princess, endowed with generations worth of magical acumen, could have sensed the slightest, barest hint of something akin to magic. Too little, too strange for even moderate witches to register, but to Leanjah it was enough to give way for interpretation: These were eyes meant to see twisted and secret things. As such... could it be that the knight was staring into her, trying to peer for a clue to a riddle only he knew?

"I am knight, to dream the impossible dream.
I am knight, to right the unrightable wrong."
I am knight, to fight the unbeatable foe.
I am knight, to run where the brave dare not go."

A recital, almost a prayer, the knight's voice harsh and tired, but carrying a hint of fervor. With each sentence, his gaze rose a little more.

Still his helmeted view wavered, barely capable of looking into the young princess's eyes directly as he lamented "But what is a knight to do, if the victims become victimizers? What is a knight to do if his charges, if the innocent willingly choose to be villains?" With one hand gesturing across his bloodstained breastplate, the knight's voice took on a clear, unmistakable tone "You can see what I chose to do. I am a knight that struck down his own charges. Men and women who only wanted a better life, I killed them by the dozen. I tried to do good and only ended up committing a heineous crime."