It would be the same sentiment for at least a handful of his soldiers, he thinks. Those that would remain to the bitter end for loyalty, or for their own personal reasons, and for that Pitchiner would be grateful. But even if they didn't, if they all eventually had enough, he meant his words. However impossible it seemed, he would find every last one of them. Somehow. He hadn't been able to keep his own family safe, so he would make up for it in some small, paltry way by protecting as many other families as he could.
He might normally make some quip, marvel at how Jack hadn't yet managed to get discharged and express doubt that he would manage to now, but he sits in brooding silence instead, brow knit tightly and mouth set in a thin line.
The general isn't thinking of any one thing, his mind doesn't seem to want to focus enough for that. It's been in the same state since he realized the dream pirates weren't coming, very different from his normal composure and focus. It flickers to Lady Pitchiner, Emily Jane, their home as it was - and as it is now - the dream pirate captain held now in the lead brig, the inhumane smirk across its warped shadowed face. He think of the rest of the fearlings out there, how far the navy has come in this war, and how far they have to go.
It would never be enough, now, but he had to do something. He had tasted something close to madness, staring at the mouth that proclaimed his family dead, and to succumb to that would be unforgivable.
Something in Jack's tone pulls him back yet again, and his gaze flickers back somewhat uncertainly, distractedly to the boy. Me? he thinks, and the crease of his frown deepens.
His eyes close, as if composing himself enough to respond and keep composure. There would be nothing left for him, after this war. If he succeeded, and every last fearling was dead or captured somewhere they could never escape, never harm again, if or when it came to a point that everything was ... over, and he yet lived...what then?
"I have nothing left but to fight," he says, quietly. And after that? 'Nothing' is implied.
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He might normally make some quip, marvel at how Jack hadn't yet managed to get discharged and express doubt that he would manage to now, but he sits in brooding silence instead, brow knit tightly and mouth set in a thin line.
The general isn't thinking of any one thing, his mind doesn't seem to want to focus enough for that. It's been in the same state since he realized the dream pirates weren't coming, very different from his normal composure and focus. It flickers to Lady Pitchiner, Emily Jane, their home as it was - and as it is now - the dream pirate captain held now in the lead brig, the inhumane smirk across its warped shadowed face. He think of the rest of the fearlings out there, how far the navy has come in this war, and how far they have to go.
It would never be enough, now, but he had to do something. He had tasted something close to madness, staring at the mouth that proclaimed his family dead, and to succumb to that would be unforgivable.
Something in Jack's tone pulls him back yet again, and his gaze flickers back somewhat uncertainly, distractedly to the boy. Me? he thinks, and the crease of his frown deepens.
His eyes close, as if composing himself enough to respond and keep composure. There would be nothing left for him, after this war. If he succeeded, and every last fearling was dead or captured somewhere they could never escape, never harm again, if or when it came to a point that everything was ... over, and he yet lived...what then?
"I have nothing left but to fight," he says, quietly. And after that? 'Nothing' is implied.