Chess, Not Checkers

Artorias had been expecting some sort of kind, heartfelt response from Mortis; it was what he had learned he was good at. Everything about Mortis was genuine and gentle. But when the winged wolf said he was honorable and reminded him of Resin, Artorias' heart stopped. His expression froze on his face, a sting of pain rising as his heart resumed its normal rhythm. Nobody had said such a thing to him before. It was... strangely enlightening and comforting. Everything he had learned, had done, believed in, it was all what his late mother had imparted onto him. He tried to carry a part of her spirit with him in all his actions, seeing the world through the lens she had helped him craft. To be told he was a reminder of Resin was quite possibly the highest compliment anyone had ever paid him.

Blinking away the mist threatening to form in his fiery eyes, Artorias averted his gaze down to the grass around his paws. "Thank you, Mortis. That's very kind of you to say," he replied, bringing his eyes back up to smile more genuinely to him. His chest felt light, a sense of humbleness warming him from the inside out. If she could see him right now, he hoped his mother would be proud of him.

"Artorias Carpathius"