The man chuckles. "It ain't stealin' if they stole it from me first."
He changes focus abruptly, asking you, "Oh! I's always wanted to ask. Who… dishonored you?"
"Who?"
"I's know it ain't yer fault. You were a kid, right? So who would dare dishonor some kid?"
You shrug. "Family."
He nods understandingly. "I's sorry."
You wave a hand dismissively. The faster you move on, the faster you can stop thinking about that night. And the pain. "It was a while ago. I'm over it."
Why did she do it? Why did she hate me? Why didn't my mom love me? Why did they leave me to die? I was just a kid…
"Hey, Marshal, you okay? I's know how that feels. To be fucked o'er by family like that."
You snap back to reality and turn your focus back to him. "Is that so?"
"Yeah—oh! And before I's forget, the name's Dismas. Dismas, no last name, no title."
"Well met, Dismas," you reply evenly.
He nods. "Likewise, Marshal. I's gotta say, I's never thought we's interact. You's almost legend to us dishonored folk."
"Huh?"
"Yeah! Despite yer bloody family cuttin' your fingers, despite gettin' cursed by your own dad, despite losin' your status, you kept goin'. You broke the back of the Erisians and saved the subjugated."
You stand there, unsure how to react to such high praise.
Dismas continues, "Marshal, you may be called 'The Forgotten One' by them Erisian folk, but to us, you's ain't forgotten at all."