[The way Yuan says that is as if it's something which should go without saying -- of course Kratos wouldn't be on the front lines. So taking him on deployment isn't a matter of fodder. The tension releases Kratos's heart somewhat, even as the unblunted truth of his situation stabs him with its sharpness.]

You think I'd be any safer in a camp full of Sylvaranti soldiers?

[... He probably would be, at that. In the city he'd have no allies, and civilians aren't known for their discipline. Even with Yuan away from a camp on orders, life there would be rigidly enforced, and there's got to be socially ingrained rules about others' possessions, living or not.

[And it's getting very difficult to think, with the smells rising from the pot on the stove. It takes Kratos a few blank moments to realise his gaze is even focussed there, his stomach suddenly keenly empty. He closes his eyes and gives his head a little shake, trying to refocus.]

I'd still need something more than a cane. My leg isn't going to get much better than this.

[Most lamed officers were only hamstrung when they reach their destinations, to enforce a march and give Sylvaranti wounded room in the wagons when coming off the front line. Kratos had been one of the few who'd been hamstrung on the field, as much for safety's sake as to make a point to Nike before she died. His life had been spared -- but it's still, and would always be, in the hands of Sylvarant.]