Duskfire Glacier mahtar

set after the meeting!
aw btw <3

Though he had already dismissed the caribou hunters as little more than fleeting embers soon to be snuffed out, he would not step into battle without knowing the enemy. Who were they to think they could stand against them? Who would crumble first beneath his fangs? Who would beg for mercy before the end?
The Kaan’s summons had not been without revelation. Many had gathered, himself among them, yet some stood silent, hesitant. Unsurprising. Every stronghold bore its fractures, every empire its weak-blooded. He had given his loyalty, but never blindly. Astier was no nameless sword, no beast led by the throat. He knew what he was stepping into, and when the dust settled, he would still stand; unchallenged.
Now, his search turned to @Faust. The questions searing his mind demanded answers, and the wraith would not be left wanting.

faust’s gaze found him, sharp and steady. there was no hesitation in the way he turned to face astier, no surprise in his approach. he had expected this. wolves like them did not fight without reason, without knowing the weight of the war they walked into.
you have questions? his voice was low, even, but it carried weight.
his green eyes burned, though not with impatience—no, he wanted to know what astier sought. what he needed to be convinced. faust had no time for those who wavered, but he respected those who thought before they bled.
ask them. a pause. then tell me if you are prepared to kill for darukaal.

As if his summons had been anticipated, the Kaan’s response was swift. No hesitation, no wasted breath. Good. There was much the wraith sought to know, and only once his questions were met with truth would he offer his own in return.
Lowering his head in a measured salute, he spoke, his voice as even as the glacier itself. „Kaan.”
His pale gaze, sharp as a blade’s edge, lingered upon the dark sovereign. „These Caribou Hunters; who are they?” He did not believe them to be mindless killers; even beasts had purpose. He knew little of them beyond whispers in the wind: nomads without land, without titles, tethered only to the herds they pursued. But perhaps they were not speaking of the same hunters.
A pause. The ghost shifted, settling upon the frostbitten stone, his presence deliberate yet not intrusive. „What drove them to strike?”

they are nomadic, from what i understand, faust said, his voice even, steady as the frozen ground beneath them. he did not waste words, did not fill the silence with anything unnecessary. the weight of war pressed heavy upon his shoulders, but he bore it well.
they simply hunt the caribou—until they did not. his green eyes flickered with something sharp, something bitter. blackfell is my cousin. gjalla, his wife. mortally wounded by the chieftain of saatsine.
a slow breath. a measured exhale. he had already repeated this too many times, but the more he spoke it, the more the rage solidified in his chest.
from what i understand, he continued, it takes very little to anger him.
the words were spoken with a grim sort of finality. a monster had been allowed to roam unchecked for too long, and now, the consequences were bleeding into their lands, staining the snow with fresh war.
what drove them to strike? astier asked.
faust's lips pressed together, jaw clenching as he thought. pride, he finally said. and weakness.