[Something about the rebuke tickles the back of Ademnet's mind. This time, he leaves the thought alone. Part of him wants to justify himself--we can't all go around fighting folk until they make us corborn kings, and we all still got to eat--but he knows Barnabas is right. He's nowhere near starving, and nothing is attacking him. He would be stupid to run that risk without true need.]

...Yeah, good point.

[One he shouldn't have needed pointed out to him, either. Ademnet picks at his barked wrist, sheepish.]

Guess we should see what the situation is before makin' too many plans. Might be nothin' like either of us is used to.

[Translation: You ain't a king here. Keep that in mind.]