Traders, not traitors

The wait wasn't incredibly long, but it did afford Artorias some time to glance around the Fireside lands. They were very open and grassy, large expanses of golden fields going as far as he could see. Off in the distance, he could see a fruit orchard. It was quite picturesque and serene out here; he could see why wolves would choose to take up residence here. Before long, a wolf approached them, a stocky brute swathed in dark slate fur that reminded him of his own dark coat. As the man came closer, Artorias noted the saber fangs jutting from his lips and silently wondered just how many wolves in Boreas had these sorts of teeth. The wolf greeted them openly and regarded them with civility. Ulric introduced them and explained their reason for their impromptu visit.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Artorias greeted the Fireside alpha with a respectful bow of his head to the wolf equal to him in height, unable to address him by name just yet as he had not introduced himself. "Beyond alpacas and wool, our pack specializes in advanced healing and medicines. Should any Fireside wolf find themselves needing treatment or your healers need assistance, our masterful doctors are welcoming to all." Sometimes, he felt like he was the only wolf that remembered what his mother had originally established the Hallows for. A place of healing and sanctuary for all walks of life who needed a helping paw. If he were helping Ulric re-establish the image of their pack, he wanted that to be what they remembered of the pack to the south. A place of safety and recovery.

"Artorias Carpathius"