It is only at that exact point that Cohen realizes that something is seriously wrong, that he has put his foot in the middle of something, but as yet he has not discovered the depth. He is not very good at reading or dealing with emotions, he trains warriors to mask everything, he trains men to be robots, unfeeling working machines and has lived his life in much the same way. The camp is a controlled place, very little information in or out.
He can rarely read another's thoughts just from their face, but he has never seen a man who simultaneously look so nauseatingly disgusted, eternally confused, heartbreakingly devastated and violently angry all at the same time. The king's face twisted so horribly.
Cohen looks at the next portrait and the one after, one man, one woman, all with simila
