Quelten

"Zem, the idea is that each of us will be using one of those poles to check ahead for traps.  If you can't lift your own weight, you're more than welcome to wait outside for us, or even head back to town until we're done in the mines," Quelten suggested, tone a little too even and pleasant to be natural.

Quelten sighs and buries his face in his hands.  Yet again they wind up going in twenty directions at once.  It was partly his fault, true, but... how the hell to get the group to start pulling together?  And how in the name of all the gods to get them to start thinking in the habit of moving as a group instead of splitting up and going twenty directions at once?

Quelten pulls Zem off to the side.  "You know, if you needed money you could have just asked," he says severely.  "There was no need to try and pick my pockets.  I would have helped."
 
"Now, what is it that you wanted to buy so badly you were going to steal from me to get it?"

Quelten seems to grow two feet in his fury.  "Murderer?  Murderer?" he hisses.
 
"Someone translate my words for those two," Quelten gestures in the direction of D'Narenth and Abram.
 
"Listen very, very closely Zemzellet.  Murder is the knowing, willful act of killing someone unlawfully.  You did not know who this woman was.  You did not know that your actions would lead to her death.  You thought she was attacking us, as did we all.  It's called the fog of war.  If blame there is, the blame is shared because none of us realized she wasn't hostile, and she herself didn't bother to make that known.  But there is no blame.  Each of us acted as best we could in a chaotic, confused situation where telling friend from foe was, at best, difficult and confusing.  A confusion she didn't help, when she broke cover in the manner she chose."
 
"You committed no crime.  Know this, and know it to be true," Quelten orders firmly.  "Perhaps you made a stupid mistake, but if so the key is to learn from it, not run and hide in your shame."

Quelten glares at the fools.  "This is not the time to discuss silly entertainment jobs," he snarls.  "There will be time enough to worry about such inconsequentials after we complete the mission.  If, that is, you survive it.  And while we will certainly endeavor to ensure that we all return alive, and with all six boys intact, stupidity like this little game of yours will jeopardize our goals.  At best you'll get yourselves killed, at worst you could every well get us all killed, and the boys as well."