The last thing the Knight had expected from Ghent was an apology. It gave Drust pause in his explanations, his gaze resting momentarily on the boy. He exhaled heavily and nodded. “You’re inexperienced,” he began, his tone a stiff drone as he struggled to keep the guilt of why that was from rising to more than a whisper in the back of his mind. “Accidents are to be expected. But [i]use caution.[/i]”
	Drust looked over when Ghent nearly fell, the movement catching his eye. His brows rose as he took in the boy’s wonder. Drust’s mouth twitched downward in a frown. There was far too much the boy didn’t know.
	He sighed heavily at Ghent’s final comments and last questions. He took a deep breath, turned back to the fire, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should’ve woken Ghent up earlier.
	“I’m far from perfect, boy,” he snapped, harsher than he’d intended. “Hatter created a decent amount of us. But no, not [i]all[/i] of us of the non-human guard. His master created many of us before him. The palace has only ever had one official vinifcium at a time.”
	He took another breath and glanced toward Ghent. “Creating White and Black Knights takes a tremendous amount of energy. And a sound connection with magic itself. I know little about its process. But Hatter always said magic does most of the work. Nonetheless, his first attempt left him drained and unconscious for a week.” A small smirk quirked his lips. “He theorized he’d put too much of himself into the process with me. As a result, that leaked into the final product. Making me a bit different.”
	He curled the hand resting on his knee into a fist, then opened it. He stared at it as if waiting for something unusual to demonstrate his difference, but nothing happened.
	He sighed heavily and let his hand dangle from his knee. “I don’t need much sleep. But I still need it.” He reached over and readjusted his pack. “If you have no further questions regarding taking a watch, we’ll continue our conversation upon the morrow.”