paul atreides was a powerful young man; not in his lean stature, but in the potential he held. throughout his youth, he had been exposed to the most competent of teachers, advisors, and soldiers to shape him into the mould of potential that society saw within him. any who had made the mistake of underestimating him had sorely come to regret it.

so why was it, that as he and his mother joined refuge within the company of the fremen on arrakis-- the sietch tabr tribe, after escaping the harkonnens-- he appeared to have lost his footing? he had to admit his first kill of jamis had indeed shaken him, however learning the ways of the desert had overcome his mind, feeling as if sand was filling in the grooves of his cortical map.

"must you always play dirty?" paul muttered somberly as he was forced to the ground for the nth time, his morbid expression elucidating the impression that he had been greatly humbled--and hated it. "i do not see how continuous humiliation of me is helpful in teaching me how to live in the desert."