"Watch yourself," Thornmaker growled.
"I want my knife," Sebastian continued, returning his attention to Boarstaff as if Thornmaker weren't worth his time. "It was a gift."
Boarstaff remembered the knife, ornate handle carved from dark wood, symbols unlike standard vampire designs. Not a weapon so much as a keepsake. In a society where possessions were just tools, a gift meant something. He tried to imagine what it meant to Sebastian; a token from a brother now lost to mechanical precision, a reminder of connection that had once existed between them. How much had Sebastian lost in his transformation? How much of himself had been buried beneath brass components and his father's expectations?
"A knife is still a weapon," Rockbreaker pointed out, though he sounded more curious than concerned.
Sebastian didn't even glance his way. "If I wanted to hurt an orc," he said quietly, gaze fixed on Boarstaff, "I wouldn't need a knife."
Thornmaker's face darkened. "You're threatening us now? After everything—"
"It's not a threat," Sebastian cut him off, boredom evident in his tone. "Just a fact. One you should remember when you question why I'm asking for a knife instead of just taking it." His gaze returned to Boarstaff, warming noticeably. "I've had plenty of chances to hurt people here. I've chosen not to."
The truth hung between them. Sebastian had fought his own brother to save their mission. Had carried Oakspear's bodyback with dignity. Had shown restraint around the human child despite his hunger.
"I'll bring your things to the caves later today." Boarstaff ignored Thornmaker's huff of disapproval. "Your clothes. And your knife." The decision came easily, despite knowing how it would appear to his warriors. Was that evidence of good leadership, recognizing what Sebastian needed to feel less like a prisoner? Or was it something more personal, a desire to see Sebastian again without the watchful eyes of his warriors? Boarstaff wasn't sure he wanted to examine that question too closely.
Sebastian nodded, satisfaction evident in the way his shoulders relaxed. The metal at his collar caught the sunlight differently, almost warming in response. "Good enough for me." He glanced at the other warriors, adding with perfect noble dismissiveness, "Try varying your patrol route occasionally. For your own sake."
Their gazes held a moment longer than necessary. Then Sebastian turned and headed back toward the eastern cave, each stride fluid and graceful in a way that had nothing to do with mechanical precision.
Boarstaff couldn't help watching him go, the play of muscle beneath skin, the way his body moved with newfound vitality. Something hot and possessive curled in his chest. It wasn't just appreciation for Sebastian's physical form, though that was undeniable. It was something deeper; fascination with the person emerging from beneath his father's mechanical constraints. The Sebastian who had chosen to help them rescue Sarah, who had fought his own brother, who somehow remained noble without the artificial precision that had once defined him. With each passing day, Boarstaff found himself less interested in what Sebastian had been and more intrigued by what he was becoming.
"You're giving him a weapon?" Thornmaker's voice snapped him back to reality. "After he just threatened us?"
"That wasn't a threat," Boarstaff said, finally dragging his eyes away from Sebastian's retreating form. "That was honesty."
"He said he could kill us without weapons," Rockbreaker reminded him, though he seemed more amused than alarmed.
"He can," Boarstaff shrugged. "He's chosen not to. That's the point."
Thornmaker made a disgusted sound. "You're not thinking straight where he's concerned. Did you see how he looks at you? How he dismisses everyone else?"
The accusation hit closer than comfortable. Whatever was happening between him and Sebastian went beyond tactical considerations or diplomatic necessity. Boarstaff had been a leader long enough to recognize when his personal feelings threatened to influence his decisions. The question was whether those feelings provided insight others lacked or blindness to dangers they clearly saw.
"Maybe," Boarstaff admitted. "Or maybe I see things you don't want to." He met Thornmaker's glare head-on. "The council said he could stay. His stuff is his stuff."
"Including weapons?" Thornmaker pressed.
"Including a ceremonial knife he could've taken any time during his morning runs if that's all he wanted."
Thornmaker had no answer for that, though his disapproval radiated off him in waves.
"Better we know he has it than wonder if he's hiding one," Rockbreaker added pragmatically.
They continued their patrol in silence for several moments, following the eastern boundary. Rockbreaker glanced at Boarstaff, his weathered face thoughtful.
"You will be careful when you're alone with him, won't you?" he asked, his tone more curious than concerned.
"I am always careful with him," Boarstaff replied, keeping his voice neutral despite the way Rockbreaker's question landed closer than he was comfortable with.
Thornmaker's face twisted, clearly wanting to say something but holding back.
"Say what's on your mind, Thornmaker," Boarstaff said, tired of the tension. "You've never been shy before."
Thornmaker slowed his pace, turning to face Boarstaff directly. "I would feel better if you would allow one of us to accompany you," he said finally. "It’s not safe to meet with him alone."
"Sebastian won't harm me," Boarstaff replied with more certainty than he perhaps should have felt.
