Vera watched Feareborne for a long moment. She wasn't measuring him--she had already done that--but she was trying to understand what it was about the word 'honor' that would inspire someone to risk themselves in such a way. To allow your children to risk themselves in such a way. She was raised to give her life to her family, to her country...not to honor. Honor was a concept she learned and eventually one that inspired her. Her own cause, this mission, had to do with honor, but there were other emotions, other values that swirled in the vacuum such a powerful concept left behind. Vera wasn't driven to succeed just by code or virtue. Vera hated her father nearly as much as he must have hated her. She was angry. And she was proud. So it was more than honor that brought her here, yet honor seemed to be all that kept him.
"You would simply do it for honor and no other reason? To give control to gods you do not know care much less can see because...it's something you were raised to do? There's nothing else that drives you, Master Feareborne?" Vera asked. She felt she was attacking him, but it was too late to take her questions back. He did not seem human. His attitude was something out of a dry legend, covered in the dust of heroics and old glory. Or perhaps she felt less honorable than she should have. Vera couldn't bring herself to smile again or make a lighthearted comment.
It wasn't the demeanor an ambassador should have. She frowned and went quiet for a few moments. Was it any of her business, really, why he chose to help? It should have been good enough that he was willing. But the darker, logical half of her knew that the chances of dying on the road for Malondir were great. She would feel the weight of the deaths in her heart, no matter how quickly her feet moved afterward.
"I'm sorry, if I've offended you," she said. "One of the things I am often charged with as a White Rider is to seek out the truth of things...and I don't know if I understand your truth."