She misspoke, somehow. She insulted him or... rubbed salt in a wound that she had not known was there. That stare was heavy but blank. Dull. It was an old wound, one that troubled him often, so often he did not have the energy to lash out as a man might when he felt injured and cornered. An old strife between father and son? But if the father was displeased with the son, why give him such a weapon?

Unless there would be no sons. Hild spoke from her own experience, from a world where men fought and women worked. Luke's world was more modern than that. A daughter could carry a weapon as well as a son. But their would be neither.

She stared at him, brows slightly knit, wondering if it was illness or injury, or some curse he carried. The woman he loved was dead and no other would do? She could not decipher him.

"What is seraph blade?" Hild asked, moving to sheathe her sword again, now that he was done with it. "Wait... I think Luke says this one time. But I do not see it."