Silver Moraine show me the way

„Fortunately, that is not what I seek,” A quiet, mundane life; such paths were for women, not him. Not for the mighty lord who conquers forests and mountains. He had not come to stir chaos, yet the thought of conquest lingered, tempting in its own way. Pale gaze traced the stranger’s tracks before rising to meet his face, his gaze sharp against the man’s shadowed form. Unlike him, Astier bore no scars; his coat remained pristine, untouched by battle. The specter moved forward, claws lightly scoring the rock beneath him, leaving subtle traces of his passing.
A quiet tsk escaped his lips, his chest rising with a slow breath. „And still, the wind calls their names.” His head dipped slightly, the weight of something unspoken lingering in the air. Should he stay? His presence had already been noted. Perhaps it would be worth lingering, just long enough to see what this dark-cloaked figure might offer.
„Long enough,” The ghost stood tall, his tail flicking as a whip. The peaks belonged to the shadow man, there was no question. But ghosts did not seek permission to haunt. 
„My name is Astier,” a murmur, cut short. His pale gaze fell to the ground for a fleeting moment, before snapping back to meet the stranger’s eyes. It was a sentence left unfinished, and yet it burned within him. Titles! He had titles; many titles. Titles that had been torn from him, stripped away as if he were no more than a servant, a lowly wretch unworthy of his name. But he knew what he was, what he would be. His face remained unreadable, eyes sharp and focused, but within him, a fire raged.