The Glory Of All Our Problems

Balthier had missed his patrol shift—again. Artorias was a very forgiving wolf, sometimes too much so, but when one of his wolves’ actions put greater burden on the rest of the pack or worse, put them in danger, then his patience had a hard limit. Balthier had hit that line. After a frustrating and fruitless search of the castle grounds for the AWOL Knight, the Aegis finally made his way down to the beach after a vague tip that the golden wolf might have been headed for his raft the night prior. Artorias knew of Balth’s fondness for alcohol; the castle stores of wine had been hit particularly hard the past season, and he had a suspicion of who the culprit was. But what he hadn’t expected to find was to find the brute passed out on the beached watercraft reeking of booze. Art crinkled his nose up. At least the fool hadn’t tried to actually go sailing and drowned himself…

Rolling his eyes with disdain, Artorias climbed aboard the raft and approached the unconscious Balthier. He fixed the wolf with a glower for a moment, then raised a paw and rested it upon the slumbering brute’s chest, giving him a vigorous shake. "Balthier. Wake up," he snapped, his tone hard and disappointed. He would give Balth a few moments of shaking to see if he woke up, and if he didn’t, the Aegis would bring his paw up to give the inebriated wolf’s face a good smack. One way or another, Baltheir would be waking up to face the consequences of his actions.

"Artorias Carpathius"