Morvath's crimson eyes lingered on her, steady and unblinking. "Well," he said at last, voice deep and measured, "if it isn't the Golden Sister."
Beatriz didn't answer immediately. She simply regarded him with that cold, appraising stillness of hers, as if weighing the worth of even acknowledging him.
"Well, Morvath," she replied finally, her tone flat but carrying the faintest curl of mockery at the edge, "how goes the invasion of the Skarnids' lands?"
His posture didn't shift, but a flicker of something—perhaps amusement, perhaps pride—passed across his features. "We're still locked in a draw," he said casually, as if discussing the weather. A low, controlled chuckle followed. "But since I'm here now to serve…" His gaze swept the surrounding area, slow and deliberate, like a predator taking stock of its new hunting ground. "…I suppose I'll have to change my goal."
Then his focus returned to her, sharper now. "But, Beatriz," he said, voice dropping into something almost reverent, "I would love to see it personally… your true form."
She gave him nothing—no change in stance, no hint of expression—only the unyielding silence of someone who refused to play his game.
Elrick, standing between them, felt the air tighten. His mind flashed to the memory of the game—Beatriz's ultimate. That second form. That divine, devastating transformation that had broken armies. Is that what he means?
He pulled the map from his satchel, more to ground himself than out of necessity, murmuring under his breath, "Yeah… we should be close. About less than a hour, with Beatriz's speed…"
His eyes flicked up briefly toward Morvath, still looming with that unreadable calm. Should I leave him here for now instead? The thought wasn't without temptation.
Elrick's jaw tightened as he weighed the risk. Morvath was an asset… but also a storm waiting for the right wind.
Fuck it, he thought. "Morvath," he said aloud, voice firm, "you'll stay here for a while. Beatriz and I are heading to the city. We'll be back in a day or two."
The towering knight didn't move at first. Then, slowly, his head inclined in acknowledgment.
"And one more thing," Elrick added, his tone sharpening. "You are not to harm any innocent humans."
Beneath the jagged black helm, Morvath's mouth curved into the faintest of smiles—a predator acknowledging an odd rule from its keeper. "And… not innocent humans?" His voice carried a mild, deliberate weight, as though testing the edges of the order.
Elrick hesitated, just long enough for the pause to be felt. "…Fine," he said at last.
Elrick knelt by their pack, pulling out a heavy pouch. Gold and silver clinked inside, the sound oddly loud in the tense air. "Keep the rest of the treasures safe until we return"
Morvath gave a slow, single nod, as if filing away a permission that would not be wasted.
Elrick turned to Beatriz. "The sooner we figure this out about this world, the sooner we'll come back."
She didn't answer, but stepped forward, lowering slightly so Elrick could climb onto her back. With effortless strength, she lifted him as if he weighed nothing, then set off at a blistering pace—boots striking the ground in rhythmic bursts that blurred into the wind's howl.
Behind them, Morvath stood alone, the heat from his burning lance distorting the air. He watched them vanish into the distance, the faint smile still hidden under his helm. Then his gaze drifted to the treeline, scanning for movement—slow, deliberate, patient.