Cade looked up, surprised by the conversation's turn, but nonetheless given hope. It didn't cheer him, per se-- it was hardly a cheerful situation-- but at least it might not have to end with him slaughtering his own men.

"As their commanding officer, it was my failure to control them," he said, slowly and stiffly rising to his feet. The man was a wreck, barely able to stand from exhaustion, but he was committed. He kept his gaze forward and rigid, his eyes haunted, as he said, "any punishment you visit on them, I must receive as well, for my mistakes." If they had to die, so must he. The trust he placed in the Order was implicit, even in its current state.