Perrault: Dangerous? Hardly. But are you sure? You said you've just spent the afternoon walking about and the patrol route is quite long.
Cinders: Don't worry about me, I'm stronger than I look. Besides, this is my last day of freedom. I'd rather make it last as long as possible.
The big red-- I mean Lady Carmosa is coming back home tomorrow.
Perrault: I see. Now I understand the long face.
Very well then, you may come with me. But be warned -- I will not change or shorten the route, if you're tired.
It may not be the most demanding duty there is for a soldier but it is a duty still.
Cinders: Oh, don't worry! I can be very militant, if there's a need for it.
Some of my witty ripostes and well-aimed grimaces could be classified as weaponry.
Perrault: Ha! I had no idea you're such a menace! I can only hope I won't end up arresting you for possession of lethal irony.
Perrault: What do you mean? Is something wrong?
Cinders: My feet are killing me. And I thought I had a chance at this line of work.
Perrault: You have walked almost the whole route already and it seemed a fine patrolling job to me. The town is safe, calm, nothing happened on your watch. Isn't that what matters?
Cinders: Does anything dangerous ever happen on these routes? Because if so, I must admit I am disappointed with our walk and its unfulfilled potential for adventure.
Perrault: Well... no. It's almost always uneventful.
Cinders: Then I really feel like I have accomplished something today.
But if these patrols don't change anything, why do you do them?
Perrault: I did not say they change nothing, Cinders. Maybe it is because of them that the town is peaceful. Maybe something will happen and the town is going to need me to be here.
Cinders: Hmm, good point. Like that kidnapping the other day. It was good you were around.
Perrault: Yes. But whatever happens, or does not happen, these patrols are my duty, Cinders. Written generations ago to keep this town in order. So that is what I will do.
Perrault: I did make once choice - to become a guard. I do accept my duties as they are a consequence of who I am. You don't seem to accept the concept of duty in general, though.
It's fine. I mean I can understand. From what you have told me about your house and its rules, you are bound to dislike your duties.
Cinders: Isn't that almost by definition? Duty is something you HAVE to do. Not WANT to do, not CHOSEN. How can you like an obligation like that?
Perrault: That is how it is for you, as Carmosa took over your house and life. For me it's different. I have chosen and accepted my duties. Or maybe chosen to accept them.
I see the purpose of my duties and I am glad I can contribute to it. And if I can have a pleasant walk every evening as a means to uphold order in this town. Is it really that bad?
Cinders: When it pours or snows the pleasure must be doubled!
Perrault: Haha! Ok, you've got me there. Though the town does look better when all the dirt and these clashing colors are covered by snow. Or at least smudged by the rain in your eyes.
Cinders: So you honestly like protecting this sleepy, dirty town? I distinctly remember you saying that you miss the past, the times of battles. Where do your patrols fit into that?
Perrault: I do whatever is necessary. If the times demand I walk the Town, that is what I will do. But yes, I do prefer the thrill of battle and times when heroism had its use.
Cinders: I can't figure you out, Captain. One minute you stop to show me a magnificent view of the evening mist over the lake that unfolds from the Palace stairs. A minute later you admit killing is more preferable to you than such an evening stroll.
Perrault: I do prefer battle, but I certainly did not say I preferred it over this evening stroll in particular.
Cinders: Thank you. So are you a warrior, or a poet? Or a killer poet maybe?
Perrault: Oh, I would be an awful poet, I assure you. In fact you may be right, my poetry would probably kill.
Perrault: Ugh... If you break the law, then I'll kill you?
As you can see, not a poet. But then again--
Why do you think killing and poetry exclude each other? That's child's way of thinking. I've seen cruel crooks that wrote delicate poetry. And not all warriors are mindless brutes.
Cinders: You're right, I'm sorry.
Perrault: That's ok. But please understand, I do not enjoy killing. What makes me feel good is the sense of proficiency at something. Of being useful.
I can see the value of freedom. But the notion of having a purpose is what works for me and makes me happy.
Cinders: It's nice to see someone content with where they are and what they do. Maybe the fact that I enjoy breaking the rules is caused by the fact that I myself am not...
Perrault: Ah, but I broke a rule by inviting you to go on a patrol with me and I did enjoy it very much.
Cinders: I'm glad. And if I offended you by questioning your way of life, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude or nosy.
Perrault: By no means! There aren't many people I can talk to about such things. And how can you think things through if you don't let them be questioned? So thank you.