[It hadn't been a fair thing to say. He doesn't know what that debt really entails or how it came to be; he knows so little about any of it, held at arm's length as he'd always been. And maybe it isn't Casimir or his cousin that he'd been thinking of just then--maybe he'd been too consumed with his imagined picture of the Deep Roads, of poor and desperate dwarves with too-familiar tattoos flinging themselves into the abyss for a code of honor that doesn't need to exist.

You are never enough to prevent this, his mind tells him. You are not a thing to live for. You will never measure up to an abstract concept. Not in the end.]

You already have the solution. It just isn't a big or grand enough gesture to feel like it means what it needs to. But big grand gestures don't win battles, only start them.