Take a chance on me

Artorias noted the way Citadel straightened up on his approach, the action mirrored by Iskandor at his side. Both boys seemed tense... nervous, perhaps? Anxious? Their expressions were carefully measured and guarded, and Citadel's response was brief and veiled. It left more questions than it gave answers. Artorias shifted his scrutinizing gaze between the Fatalis boys, looking for any signs of injury or distress that might give him an inkling of what was going on. When Citadel did not clarify and Iskandor offered no insight of his own, Artorias knew he was about to be in for a conversation and a half.

Drawing in a deep breath, the Lord of Cinder brought his hind end up to rest on his flanks, seated before the young lads. "The Hallows is and always will be home for you both, and I will grant you the asylum you seek. But first I would like to know if I need to be worried about reprisal coming to my door. It's very unusual for young wolves to turn up at our borders so far from home." Whether it was enemies that had felled the Armada or an angry mother and father, Artorias did not care for unpleasant surprises. Preparedness was the greatest asset to success. He would not pry too deeply, but he did need to know what to expect was coming with Citadel and Iskandor Fatalis. "Tell me, does the Armada still stand or are we on the brink of war?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian"