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Sitting in his office in the Kholin warcamp, Dalinar had been awaiting this conversation. But also kind of dreading it…
Before him sat the man named Kaladin Stormblessed who he had just freed from the clutches of Sadeas by trading his own blade Oathbringer. Something he did not regret.
But still, he felt a kind of dread talking to the man. He had traded what had most arguably been his most priced possession for the man sitting in front of him and he desperately hoped that his gamble would pay off.
That he hadn´t just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Or how Sadeas had called it… This will be remembered as the most ridiculous decision ever made by an Alethi Highprince.
But no. There was something special about this man. He just knew it. But to uncover that special piece of him he first had to get to know him better.
“Would you like some water, soldier?” Dalinar asked affably.
“Ehm sure, Sir,” answered Kaladin with slight hesitation. At first glance he might have seemed stoic, but Dalinar could spot a certain awkwardness underneath it. This is going to be difficult.
Dalinar used a pitcher to pour water into a cup and cleared his throat softly. “Well,” he said after a second.
Kaladin did not answer, instead choosing to sip his drink quietly.
Clearing his throat again, Dalinar continued, “Soldier, no Kaladin, I do not plan to hold you off on your well-deserved rest for today, seeing as both you and I had quite a day.” With being betrayed by whom he had believed to be a close friend and almost dying only to be saved by a group of slaves. Kaladin grunted in affirmation, hand tightening slightly on the cup. Maybe in nervousness…?
“But still, I have some questions open I would like answered before I can leave you to your rest.”
“Yes, Sir,” came the clipped reply. Surely, he had military training. Even if he had been a slave, he must have been in the military before that. Everything in his posture, his speech, his overall behavior screamed of that fact.
But Dalinar kept his thoughts to himself for now.
“You mentioned training your men, Bridge Four, in the chasms… how exactly did you do that? An amazing feat by itself already, making soldiers out of slaves. But also doing it under the circumstances they were in…
Kaladin hesitated for a second as if to collect his thoughts. When he finally spoke, he did so with an earnest expression. “Bridge Four had been permanently assigned chasm duty-“
“Chasm duty?”
“Yes, Sir. Chasm duty involved going down into them to salvage useful items like weapons and armor from the dead who had fallen into the chasms and been washed over to the camps by the Highstorms.”
What? Such a duty existed? Sending slaves into the chasms? Dalinar had known that some Highprinces had had questionable methods of regaining their lost gear, but still he found himself left utterly speechless. Maybe he really should have pried for more information regarding that, but he had to admit that in the past he had not cared enough to ask more.
Returning his focus back to Kaladin, Dalinar listened with rapt attention. “What had at first seemed like a curse had turned out to be a blessing instead. Being down in the chasms had allowed us certain… liberties we did not previously had.”
“Like?”
“Well usually only a few men of my squad would salvage the dead while we would train the others in spear formations.” The way he also refers to the others as his squad. Even if they had previously been mere bridgemen.
“And you did this all by yourself? Who was the one teaching them the formations? Who had the knowledge to accomplish such a feat?” Now they were getting to the interesting part.
Kaladin hesitated again, as if to debate what to reveal and what to conceal. “It was… me and a fellow squad member named Teft.”
And not just referring to the bridgemen as a squad but also truly making them into one by training them under these dire consequences. And as everybody had witnessed today, it had actually worked. Making slaves into soldiers.
Makes me question what Kaladin could achieve under much more favorable conditions…?
“You have been in the military before as I would assume…?” He let the question hang in the air, waiting for Kaladin to finish it, even while being sure of the answer.
“Yes, Sir. I was a squadleader previously. Youngest one in the army in fact.” It was merely stated as a fact. He did not boast about it. There was no smug smile nor proud posture. Kaladin declared it like he would any other message, no matter its significance.
“Under whom?”
This time Kaladin´s stoic mask cracked, but just for the shortest of moments. But it was long enough for Dalinar to catch. “I would rather not talk about it, Sir.”
The topic seemed to bring out something different in him. Where he had previously seemed calm, now there was a certain darkness swirling in his eyes. Dalinar knew such feelings all too well.
Some pasts were better left buried.
Choosing to leave that topic to the side, Dalinar´s thoughts quickly focused on something else.
“You mentioned being the youngest squadleader in the army. What age exactly had that been?”
“Eighteen, Sir.”
Time seemed to freeze for a second. Dalinar caught the words, but it took a moment before he could truly make sense of them.
“Wait, what?!” he managed to get out, the world around him moving again. He grasped for more to say, but all words seemed to have left him. Being a squadleader at the age of eighteen was practically unheard of. Usually, they would be aged twenty-five and above.
If Navani saw him like this, left utterly speechless by a young Darkeyed man.
All the while Dalinar struggled, Kaladin had kept carefully silent while still sipping his water from the cup. Suddenly another thought struck Dalinar. He realized that he did not even know Kaladin´s current age. Previously he would have thought him to be around thirty, but now…
Dalinar coughed into his fist as a means to compose himself, before sitting up straight again. He met Kaladin´s dark eyes with determination, voice resolute as he spoke.
“And how old might you be now, soldier?”
“I´m twenty, Sir.”
The world screeched to a shocking halt once more, this time much more violent than previously. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving behind only a black void. Dalinar felt his eyes widen, almost bulging out of his head. Eyebrows raised high on his face, he questioned, “twenty…?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You must be joking, soldier. I can seldom believe you.”
“I´m afraid I´m not, Sir.”
And with shocking halt, Dalinar was struck with another realization.
He is Renarin´s age…
Dalinar had to breathe out before he continued, having been deeply shaken by his previous insight.
“Well, forgive my rudeness, I meant no offense. I had merely assumed you to be much older. You are about the age of my youngest son,” Dalinar explained with slight embarrassment.
“None taken, Sir,” Kaladin answered with his mask back on. He truly seemed unbothered by the fact. His age must often be wrongly estimated for him to have no reaction like that.
“Well, I think that is enough for now. Take a rest, soldier. Dismissed.”
“Sir,” Kaladin answered with a crisp salute. He then stood and left the office, leaving Dalinar alone with his thoughts.
Twenty…
The thought just wouldn´t leave him alone.
Such a young age to be bearing all that responsibility on your shoulders. And I made him captain of my guard…
Even if I bore an even heavier weight on my shoulders at a similar age, I always had my brother alongside me. And besides, I know very well how heavy such a burden can be and would not wish it upon another.
I´ll support him to the best of my abilities. He shall not face this by himself.
I´ll promise him that.