" If you are eager to find the reason I became the Kvothe they tell stories about, you could look there, I suppose." Chronicler's forehead wrinkled. " What do you mean, exactly?" Kvothe paused for a long moment, looking down at his hands. " Do you know how many times I've been beaten over the course of my life?" Chronicler shook his head.Looking up, Kvothe grinned and tossed his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. " Neither do I. You'd think that sort of thing would stick in a person's mind. You'd think I would remember how many bones I've had broken. You'd think I'd remember the stitches and bandages." He shook his head. " I don't. I remember that young boy sobbing in the dark. Clear as a bell after all these years." Chronicler frowned. " You said yourself that there was nothing you could have done." " I could have," Kvothe said seriously, " and I didn't. I made my choice and I regret it to this day. Bones mend. Regret stays with you forever. "