Ordhan sat very still, half-watching Conlan pour himself more drink. He held his own mug, still mostly full, between both hands. For the moment it was forgotten. What Conlan said should have encouraged him, but he only shrugged, a half-hearted lift of his shoulders that seemed to imply neither agreement or disagreement.
"Perhaps," he answered mildly. It seemed that Conlan was holding back what he really wanted to say; Ordhan did not want it all swept under the rug once more, to return to the brittle awkwardness of the recent days, but at the same time he did not want to draw out the argument. He knew what he wanted to ask, and carefully weighed the risks in his mind. The two were being unusually candid with one another, which may make a blunt question excusable, but at the same time it made both more vulnerable.
A long moment of indecision passed. "I...think I may understand why we disagree," he dared. And then paused. Even after he had decided to speak, it was difficult not to quail. Everything Ordhan held himself to as far as propriety went was being broken, here, but at the same time Conlan never held much for propriety. "The Guard does not hold well for those with...ideals." Ordhan always disliked the word ideals. It made something so simple as faithfulness or as basic as duty seem like a flighty pipe dream, a thing to be mocked and tossed aside by sensible people.
As Conlan went on, however, Ordhan almost smiled down at his mug. "If it were only as simple as that. There is diplomacy ahead of us, whether any of us like it. War is cruel, but battle is easier to understand." Ordhan remained where he was when Conlan moved, but took another drink.
He felt that at the very base, he and Conlan were very much the same, but that the paths life had taken them both on had forced them to become opposite in many ways. It didn't matter in the end. Conlan was his leader, now, as strange as the reversal may be, for better or worse. Nothing would lead him to shirk his duty or turn on their friendship. "Thank you, Conlan. I can swear that I will." It was as much an oath as any word he could give as a man or knight, spoken with the quiet steel of his very nature.