A shadow’s smile pulls on the draft’s black lips when the gray king cocks a leg and so he lets his wings drape down off his sides, talon-tips trailing into the grass. The tradition was so antiqued and yet he still found it obligatory – indispensable even. Who were you to another if you could not bother to show them your face? If you could not lend your voice to their ear so that they may hear the earnestness in your voice?
Mast mentions Yael’s kindness and the Nightwalker holds back a chagrinned smile, he doubted anyone knew the magician’s benevolence as he did. The golden queen’s mercy had been wasted on him more than once but the black king had learned eventually the error of his choices – late and the hard way as the stubborn often do. “Yael is filled with more grace than I am with pounds,” the dragon laughs, “she is naught less than a saint to deal with a scoundrel like myself for more than two decades.” The joviality of the conversation slipped into a harder tone as Mast answered the giant’s earlier question with a grit in his voice.
“You know,” he begins, “It’s always been eternally ironic that I’ve ruled the so-called “good” kingdom now and for more many years before that,” his raven-black gaze hold’s Mast’s steadily, “I am neither good nor bad, I lead my flock neither to wickedness nor to righteousness – I merely lead. And sometimes that path may lead to fighting off the wolves but as the Shepherd I do my duty.” He says, just as the iron mare appears on the horizon, probably summoned by the talk of war he thought to himself with a chuckle.
“Queen Lagertha,” he says with familiarity on his tongue, head dipping ceremoniously as was his custom. He had come to get used to her uncouth way and even appreciated her brusqueness with a tolerating grin – the Nightwalker had always loved strong women. A grimace slips past his lips only briefly as his thoughts travel to Lyric before he anchors his attention on Lagertha, “The Deserts is the closest if you have no way of concealing our conversation here,” he turns to Mast, “the time for planning is now while the wind is still in the North.” The Valley had been the quieter of the two lately – although Demian had thwarted his daughter’s attempt at stealing the mare Rhynn. The Chamber was the one that carried the heaviest concern for the titan, “shall we go?” He asks, gaze wavering between the king and queen that stood before him.
.
vanquish
black king of the deserts
