Para Bellum

Artorias was on the hunt. It had taken some time, but his tenacity had paid off. Searching for clues to the whereabouts of his sister's attacker around the Cedar Falls had been a fruitless endeavor; too much time had passed since the attack to find anything useful. However, thanks to Corbin covering most of Auster with his flights, he had been able to interview a few lone wolves around the continent. One eventually confirmed they had seen a wolf matching the description of Gwynevere's assailant heading north back to Boreas. That was all the information Artorias needed. He wasted no time rushing up to Boreas. He didn't even stop by the castle to grab his armor or any backup, carrying Embershard on his back as he always did. He'd sent Argent back to the castle to inform Ulric of where he was going and kept Corbin with him for an aerial search, but otherwise he was going into battle with nothing more than his wits, his training, and the sword his mother had entrusted him with.

It took another day of searching southern Boreas before he finally found another wolf that had seen his target headed across the prairies northbound just a couple of days ago. Artorias had scoured the prairies and valleys, but found nothing beneath the snow that covered Boreas. Worse still, his trail had gone cold again. Scowling, Artorias continued to push north in hopes of spotting the brute or finding another clue, and eventually ended up at the banks of the massive river that carved through Boreas. The river still flowed freely despite the frigid temperatures, its rippling waters babbling melodically in the otherwise silent winter day. Artorias' paws crunched through the snow while he walked up to the river's edge, muzzle dipping to get a drink of the cool water. He recoiled a little when his tongue touched the water. Correction: get a drink of the bitter cold water. At least he had the peace of mind knowing that he wouldn't be attacked by the man from the water this time. It was far too cold for any aquatic ambushes.

Stepping away from the river, Artorias tried to gather his bearings while he walked through the trees that lined each riverbank. Corbin swooped and circled overhead, keeping his keen eyes open for his young master down below. It had almost become a game of hide and seek now, with the monster hiding and Artorias hunting. This was one game he was determined to win, and he would return home with the bastard's head as a trophy.

"Artorias"