"Ironic you should speak of loyalty. Mark it. You still have mine, mutual or not."
Mrost shrugged as she went. There was nothing more he could say. He wouldn't call her back, wouldn't apologise. She had learned all he could teach her. And he statement of being able to call together her own loyal army should she need it proved this to him. As was it was not his job to lead armies. Merely to plant the seeds from which they sprung. It was his own folly to try and gather generals to himself, the folly of an ancient and weary domain. It was more often his downfall, more often his pain than anything else. They all left, they all betrayed, none could comprehend his intentions for them in the same way he could not comprehend theirs.

He sighed under his breath as he watched the headstrong and powerful adult walk away from him, no longer the uncertain child he'd known. Perhaps one day she would spark some conflict somewhere and he'd see her again in the tangled memories. It was painful but he could never allow himself to grow too attached to anyone he trained, after all, he sent them to their deaths. He turned himself and headed on his way.

She'd never really understand his objection, he felt, and he didn't grudge her that.

War was the father who lived to see all his children die.