He would have, in fact. He would have lived out his life into becoming a jolly, sweet-natured old man, content as a housecat and just as fat, spending his money on beautiful works of knowledge. Perhaps marrying well, which he felt lukewarm about, and perhaps buying a small army of warrior houses to send in aid to the blights, which would at least save him from the bodily harm he would and had endured, a notion cowardly but safe.
Rhocanth was very few days away from the edge he had been on previously, and it didn't take much to break the ice he tried to put up. It was more than he could handle, and he released a sticky sigh. Something else drifted across his eyes. Sorrow, pure and abundant. He tried to look at his knees, scratch at his hair to have it fall into his face, but he was sure it was too late. Her simple assertion was too pointed to avoid.
Fine. If that was the way she wanted it. He set his jaw and answered in a whisper, "I would trade the sky and every bright thing in it to see my family one more time. Everything is pale compared to that."