Maybe Kelson had been broken down. He felt the same way. He was incredibly proud of his achievements where no blood had been spilled. The problem was it never lasted. Maybe that was a product of the way he was raised, or being king for so many bloody years, but the idealism had been somewhat culled from him. Somewhat. In many ways, he was still idealistic. He wholeheartedly believed that he could and would raise the Deryni from the second class, maligned individuals hampered by political and ecclesiastical rule to the equality that everyone else achieved. He believed this. And somehow believed the assassination attempts and coups would stop.

But war? No, he didn't believe that.

"No, you have not violated any social or cultural boundary. I just." Kelson shook his head. "I cannot believe you equate the possibility of being killed with discomfort. I wish you would place your own life and safety with as much skill and love as you do those around you. You seem to place those you do not know on a higher pedestal than your own life. Your own passion will get you killed."

Oh look. Pot. Meet kettle.