[The rattle isn't loud, but it's sudden and makes Kratos flinch, even though he really ought to have been expecting it. He grunts then, still without trying to push himself upright, still trying to orient himself a little better.]

I'm not even a soldier anymore. I'm a weaver. I think I did well, under the circumstances.

[He takes a breath to say more, but abandons the attempt at Yuan's last words, and exhales slowly. Mithos doesn't know. If it were anyone else, Kratos would wonder if he was lying -- but Yuan doesn't lie. Even early on, he hadn't lied; twisted the truth, but not lied. It was one of the things which had, in the end, sparked a bond between them: the frustration of honest men in a war blind with hatred.

[When Kratos speaks, it's quiet.]

Why?