Though his ears flick back and forth during the conversation, tracking the solemn words of his Brothers and the nearly incoherent ramblings of their mad former king. But his eyes don’t move – he keeps his gaze steady on Mountain, Errant and Kratos and Hurricane only visible from the edges of his vision. He knows where they are, of course, and keeps aware of any movements they make, but Mountain is the enemy.

Errant is dismissive of the ramblings, as any sane man would be, turning away from Mountain and towards where Hurricane and Brennen flank him and Kratos, one dark and one light winged figure like something from some sort of fairytale. There is a slight tremor in Brennen’s body the first time the mad king makes ready to lunge – he catches the signs of movement in his opponent’s body, readies his own to move, but before he has a chance to take a step forward, something (Errant, his subconscious supplies) has thrown Mountain backwards, through the opening in the ice wall, beyond their borders. A fury seethes behind his amber eyes now – he had pitied the man before, to an extent, but the dishonor of even thinking to attack when Errant’s back was turned has washed that away.

For a moment all is quiet, the mad king thrown just beyond their sight. There’s a slight downhill there, outside the borders, and the warrior exhales, starting to relax. He starts to form just the hint of a smile for Errant, a lopsided sort of thing that can't quite be called humorous, but as he turns his head to their King movement catches his eye. Alas, it seems that Mountain takes a moment to recover, stumbling and falling over his own feet, but making slow progress back towards them. Brennen quietly unfolds his wings, taking them from tightly folded along his sides to half-lifted, out of the way of his own ability to move.

He is not a killer, not usually, but there comes a point at which death serves to protect the living, or as a mercy to them. Besides that, Brennen is if nothing else a man of complex loyalties, and beyond his loyalty to Errant as their newly-chosen King, he has a deeper loyalty of long acquaintance and even almost friendship. They have been Brothers for longer than some of their companions have been alive. Had Mountain lunged at Kratos, Brennen might have stood back and let the younger boy take care of it, whether his preferred method be the physical violence of pounding hooves or charring the man to his demise. But the movement of the madman, while somewhat lacking in power and coordination at this point, is clearly towards the black King who has turned to walk between Brennen and Hurricane.

He doesn’t make a vocal sound, though surely his hooves make a sound clattering against ice and rock as the once-general responds lunge for lunge, bared teeth snaking towards Mountain’s head even as he angles the majority of his mass towards the towards the madman’s shoulder, hooves striking out and his own shoulder behind that ready to throw the once-king to the ground if he hits at the right angle. Aware as he always is of his brothers, the bay has moved to push Mountain away from Errant…but also conveniently towards both Kratos and Hurricane.

And still, he says nothing.