It's a moment's understanding between swordswoman and squire, teacher and student; afterwards, a shift in the boy's attitude from resentful suspicion to something more like hope, more like trust. A reprieve, of sorts, from whatever the Marshall might have had planned, the choice to be made between Gahald and Brown, and his curiosity burns as to the means by which such a decision might be put into effect.
A nod for Sir Elliot's contribution, next, both encouraging and deferential, perhaps realising the lapse in manners that their talk of do you remember entailed.
The knight has his breadth of vision, an eye for the wide sweep of his goal - a better world - and yet it must be his squire, whose duties and concerns tend much more towards the prosaic, who offers quiet guidance in where his master might place his feet next in pursuit of the dawn horizon.
So, a question of practicalities. Of drawing the conversation back towards what might feasibly be done.
"T-two more, sera?" The original choice between two paths: Gahald retained, Brown abandoned; Brown restored, Gahald unmade. A third he can imagine - though not how it might be brought about - in which both are allowed to live their own, independent lives as paragon and rogue. But a fourth? Unless it's the unthinkable inversion from both to neither, he can't think what it might be.
"I, I d-don't know what's possible, s-sera." A quiet frustration. "How c-can we think of, of anything if we don't know w-what we can't d-do?"