"What's wrong?"
Roland noticed the Militia Captain staring blankly into his cup, his wine glass held aloft.
The Militia Captain shook his head. "It's nothing, Lord Attendant. I just feel that the things you all talk about are things I've never even considered."
The melancholy in the Militia Captain's eyes was impossible to hide. He had always been the genius among his peers, but now, surrounded by a group of truly formidable people, he was finding it difficult to accept the disparity.
Roland understood the Militia Captain completely. As a child, he had felt the difference in perspective between himself and the other young noble heirs, as well as the divide between him and the common children.
Different backgrounds, different upbringings, different people and events witnessed.
Roland said softly, "I know how you feel. I grew up in a noble family, but I realized from a young age that I was different from the children in the streets.
