Citadel was leaving a lot of baggage behind him as he and his brother moved through Auster. He could only hope it wasn't going to catch up with them at their destination. So far, his brother was sticking with him through it. Would he have Iskandors support with whatever they were met with at the Hallows borders? 

If Artorias tried to drag him home, they would all have a fight on their paws. Nerves zinged through Cit as they reached the border, and he glanced once over at his brother. Well. Only one way to find out, right? He raises his head, and called out for his Great Uncle. He hadn't seen the older wolf's since his parents' wedding. Would he remember them?

"Speech"

Iskandor trotted beside Citadel, eyes scanning around them as they moved. Auster was unfamiliar, and it made him a touch uneasy. His brother too, there was a tenseness to both of their frames. Iskandor sighed, stepping closer, brushing his shoulder against Citadel’s in a small gesture of unity. A little reassurance, that’s what he supposed he was trying to do for both their sakes. But he wasn’t so naive to assume this would go the way they wanted it to.

Once Citadel’s call rang out, Iskandor lifted his head, ears twitching as he waited for the response. The sound of an approach, anything. His posture settled into one of cool composure, eyes bright with curiosity and uncertainty in equal parts.



"Speech"

The ravens in the skies over the Hallows saw the Fatalis boys approaching the borders before Citadel's call had ever gone out. One of the jet black corvids swooped back toward the castle to report the wolves to its master, diving through the sky and into the gardens where Artorias was busy supervising his pups at play. The raven landed atop the titan wolf's back, delivering its report through croaked words just as Citadel's summoning call was issued. Artorias' expression shifted into confusion and concern. What were Basilisk's children doing down here so far from home? He'd heard no word from the Armada letting him know they'd be arriving. Something about this felt wrong, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Leaving the children in the care of their mother, Artorias began to make his way to the borders of the plains, crossing through the soft summer grasses until he spotted the forms of the two large pups waiting for him. Citadel was already massive, showing he would likely be matching his sire's height, and Iskandor wasn't too far behind him. But most concerningly, there wasn't an adult in sight with the boys. No Basilisk, no Ignita, no chaperone or guardian—nobody. Brows knitting together as a concerned frown settled on his face, Artorias met the Fatalis lads at the border, looking them both over briefly. Neither seemed hurt or malnourished; a good sign.

"Citadel. Iskandor. This is... an unexpected surprise," Artorias said, doing his best to be diplomatic and not jump straight into acting like a father. "What are you two doing all the way down here? Has something happened?" Artorias made no effort to hide the concern on his face. The presence of two unescorted pups from their allied pack at his borders meant something had gone down. Was the Armada still standing? Was their family all right?

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

It took a lot of effort not to fidget under the imposing eyes of the Hallows Lord. But Citadel managed it all the same. It helped, knowing his brother had decided to stick by him in this. He couldn’t have predicted just how much of a confidence boost it actually was, to know he was there.

He faced Artorias’s concerned brows and stood a little straighter. He had to get this just right, didn’t he? Erik had told him that Artorias was the sort of person to let them in. He knew a little about The Hallows as well, both from his visit here and his parents. The Hallows was a safe space. “I’m here for sanctuary. Will you grant it?”

"Speech"

Iskandor noted the way Citadel straightened his posture as Artorias approached, the ripple of tension in his brother’s frame was something that only someone who knew him quite well might catch. Iska's eyes narrowed, and then without hesitation he mirrored the shift, squaring his shoulders and lifting his head in solidarity. He'd not let Cit be alone out here in the world, and he wouldn't start now in the face of an alpha who could either help or ruin them.

Artorias spoke, his voice edged with concern and unease; unexpected for someone he'd only met twice now. Iskandor’s eyes flicked to Citadel, yet he held his tongue—his brother would take the lead in addressing the Hallows leader. It didn't matter to Iskandor, his sibling rivalry with his brother was reserved for playful moments, not when they were facing the world together. Iskandor would remain silent, trying to gauge the Lord of Cinder's reaction, trying to come up with a plan b, plan c, plan d all the while.

When Citadel posed the question—whether Artorias would grant them sanctuary—Iskandor’s tail gave the faintest twitch; tension he kept otherwise locked away. He maintained his composure, watching Artorias’ reaction intently, but there was no hiding the youthful hope glimmering in his gaze, clouded only by uncertainty. He was certain the older man would ask more questions, but would he attempt to subdue them by force? Send them back without a choice? Iskandor was thinking of the worst case scenarios, and the best: that Artorias would let them stay until they found their way. Until he could support Citadel while his brother figured out just what he wanted to do with his life. That… that was just another part of his promise.


"Speech"

Artorias noted the way Citadel straightened up on his approach, the action mirrored by Iskandor at his side. Both boys seemed tense... nervous, perhaps? Anxious? Their expressions were carefully measured and guarded, and Citadel's response was brief and veiled. It left more questions than it gave answers. Artorias shifted his scrutinizing gaze between the Fatalis boys, looking for any signs of injury or distress that might give him an inkling of what was going on. When Citadel did not clarify and Iskandor offered no insight of his own, Artorias knew he was about to be in for a conversation and a half.

Drawing in a deep breath, the Lord of Cinder brought his hind end up to rest on his flanks, seated before the young lads. "The Hallows is and always will be home for you both, and I will grant you the asylum you seek. But first I would like to know if I need to be worried about reprisal coming to my door. It's very unusual for young wolves to turn up at our borders so far from home." Whether it was enemies that had felled the Armada or an angry mother and father, Artorias did not care for unpleasant surprises. Preparedness was the greatest asset to success. He would not pry too deeply, but he did need to know what to expect was coming with Citadel and Iskandor Fatalis. "Tell me, does the Armada still stand or are we on the brink of war?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

Citadel startled noticeably at Artorias’s words. It knocked the steady blankness right off his muzzle. “N-no! Nothing like that” He said in almost a youthful squeak, showing his adolescence. The idea that the Armada could be wiped out put a chill straight through his body, and he fought the urge to glance over his shoulder, as if he could see his home.

He straightened his shoulders again, and reformed his expression, though there was a hint of color in his cheeks now. “No, Artorias Sir. This is… personal. It’s… is telling you the reason we’re here conditional of entry?” He asked, trying to reform his balance and carefully crafted thoughts.

"Speech"