[Dimitri sits and listens to what Scáthach has to say. it's very difficult to listen to, as it feels...frankly, rather insensitive. It would have been one thing to say that during the day, and he would have been able to take it better then. But late at night, and after he's already had a nightmare...well, all he can do is hang his head.

There is one piece of what she says that he latches on to, though.]

It wasn't the people of Duscur. They were innocent. There may have been one or a few people from Duscur involved in the conspiracy, but by and large the people of Duscur were not involved. I couldn't see our assailants' faces, but...I could see their hands. Their hands were pale -- the palest I've ever seen. They were so white they almost looked purple. The people of Duscur, on the other hand, all have dark tan, even brown skin. And I'm certain they were not wearing gloves -- I could see the fingernails on a few of them.

[There are certain things Dimitri cannot tolerate, and casting blame upon Duscur is one of them.]

But...but the people didn't see it that way. I tried to tell as many people as I could, the perpetrators were not from Duscur, that the people there were innocent of any wrongdoing. But they refused to listen; they wrote me off as but a traumatized child, even though I was the prince. A mob of commoners and nobles alike formed and stormed Duscur. They killed every local they could get their hands on.