Chess, Not Checkers

Artorias hadn't been waiting long before he saw the large dark form of the Warlord come to greet him at the border. Except... it wasn't the Warlord. It was a face Artorias had met only once before, but one that he remembered well. "Mortis, I didn't realize you'd returned home," he greeted the larger wolf with surprise, but bowed his head politely all the same. Mortis was friendly enough the last time they'd shared a heart-to-heart during his mother's passing, and he was family, but he was still a wolf of note in these lands and deserved all the same respect afforded one of the Warlord's children. "Sirius invited me here, actually. He was starting some training for me. He's going to help me learn to be the best alpha I can be when my time comes to lead the Hallows."

When he said his reasons for his arrival out loud, it all sounded so innocuous. Yet even still, his mother's words of warning remained at the forefront of his mind. He would remain vigilant and on guard, but he wasn't about to squander this opportunity to learn and apprentice under one of the greatest alphas Boreas had ever known. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt spending extended time in the Armada now that there was tension and hurt feelings between him and Briar, but Artorias had made a commitment to Seer, plus he trusted himself to behave professionally enough to not let his history with the Warlord's daughter affect his performance.

He hid his hurt behind the numbness well, not a trace of negativity anywhere in his stolid countenance. "You look well," he commented with a friendly smile to Mortis, noting how the Armada heir's mood had improved since their last meeting. "Happy to be back home?"

"Artorias Carpathius"