"Them?" Roland paused, then adopted a pitying expression. "You are still young. Perhaps your views on certain matters are not yet mature. The people's fate depends on the nobility. They will understand your decision, because your survival is their hope for the future."
He took a step forward, his voice earnest.
"Take my advice. Leave at once with your core followers and seek your liege's protection. Once the turmoil has passed, you can return to rebuild your home."
"When that time comes, you can distribute bread to the survivors, compensate the families of the dead, and take in the orphans who have no one to turn to. Your reputation for benevolence will spread throughout the duchy. This is how a noble should act, and this is the order that knights defend."
Veylin looked at him and fell silent for a moment.
Not another sound could be heard in the room.
"Baron Roland," Veylin said slowly, "does your code of chivalry include a way to quantify lives?"
Roland could not follow this sudden turn.
"What?"
"What I mean is," Veylin said, stepping closer and adopting the tone of an academic discussion, "how many commoners' deaths is one noble's life worth? A thousand? Ten thousand? Is there a standard formula for this conversion?"
Roland's lips moved, but he gave no answer.
In his world, this question simply did not exist.
The lives of nobles and commoners had never been things that could be weighed on the same scale.
Veylin's question was itself a subversion of the principles he believed in.
"Apparently not," Veylin answered for him. "You can stay here for a few days, walk around, and have a look. Then we can discuss this again."
"Barrett, take Sir Roland to a guest room to rest. He has come a long way.