Chapter Text
Flashback
Dalinar stood, silhouetted in front of the window. He watched the slaves below as they labored beneath the blazing sun, painstakingly expanding the Sadeas warcamp.
He was silent. Dangerously silent. His hands were clasped behind the small of his back, the left wrapped around the right, which he had clenched in a fist.
Adolin's stomach churned at the sight. At the terrible stillness of the man before him.
He hated how small he felt in his towering presence. At 17, he could still grow, but he knew he would never be as tall as him, or as strong.
Just another way to disappoint him.
“Torol told me that you challenged him again.”
Adolin flinched. “Father, I was just-”
“You are a soldier, now.” Dalinar said. “Address me as such.” He added, glancing over his shoulder warningly.
“Sir,” Adolin said, fighting down his anger. “His bridge crews are inefficient, barbaric, a waste of men and resources. Even you have said-”
“I am in command of the Vengeance Pact.” Dalinar said, voice cold. “And each Highprince is in command of his own army, regardless of my opinions.”
“But-”
“And YOU are two weeks into your first deployment.” He continued, voice growing deeper, louder. “In no way is it your PLACE to challenge your commander, let alone in front of his men!”
Adolin felt a hot red flush creep over his cheeks. He bit back a retort.
“You have shown you are not nearly mature enough for service. Perhaps your brother should-”
Adolin panicked, thinking of Renarin. Only thirteen, gentle and sickly. The idea of his brother alone in the warcamps terrified him.
“No! Please, father - sir” he amended. “Please. I will control myself.”
Dalinar turned to face him, eyes hard and cold. There was so much pain there, such profound exhaustion, and choking grief. The shadow of Gavilar's murder lay upon his soul.
Adolin so desperately wanted to take away that pain, to replace it with pride.
“You will have one final chance, Adolin.” Dalinar said warily. “Fail to obey your commanding officer, any HINT of insubordination, and I will send you back to Kholinar like the child you apparently are.”
Adolin fought back the heat in his cheeks. Shamespren fluttered around him.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Dalinar glanced at him from the side. “You will serve under Meridas Amaram.” He said. “Train, along with the rest of his new recruits. He is well liked, talented - and I believe there is a great deal he could teach you about respecting authority.”
Adolin nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Good.” Dalinar said. He turned to face him fully, pausing. “I am also taking the shardplate.”
Adolin tensed. “Why-?”
“You have grown cocky, since your victory over Tinalar. Arrogant. I believe you must be humbled. Reminded that you are just a man, no better or worse than any of the others you serve beside, lighteyed or darkeyed.”
His jaw clenched, but he nodded, forcing back his emotion. He squashed an angerspren that threatened to boil from the stone beside him.
Control. Learn to control your emotions. Mask them properly.
“Three months.” Dalinar said seriously. “If I hear even a breath of you disobeying, your assignment will end.”
Adolin nodded.
Dalinar softened slightly. “You may not understand now, son, but arrogance in a leader is a death sentence to the men who follow them. If you do not learn to put aside your ego, to see the lives of the men you lead as yours to preserve, then I could not in good conscience ask them to follow you.”
Adolin watched his father. He was different, since he abandoned the drink. So much of him changed since Gavilar died.
These ideals were far loftier than the ruthless efficiency he led with as the Blackthorn. But they spoke to something deep within Adolin. They made him want to be better.
They made him think of his mother.