Generally speaking, his wounds had been relatively fast to heal. Of course, most of the credit had to be given to Riopat who had done her work so tediously and so brilliantly that he had little to complain about. Rest, too, came into play and yet he liked to believe his own resilience and determination to heal had sped their process up. Now, the skin was no longer torn apart and flayed but rather a thick, pink layer of fresh skin with the budding roots of fur beginning to fill in. Despite it all, he had taken it upon himself this day to rest still, seated calmly beneath the shade of one of the half-dried trees. He had to admit that he was beginning to look forward to fall, for the summer winds were eating away at the greenery far too much.

He existed in a particular calm there as he oversaw the far off sea, watching its waves with a contemplative stare. He had much to think about, after all, particularly as his health began to return to him. There were affairs internally and externally that needed to be dealt with and he worried for his pack because of it; would they be targeted? He liked to imagine loyalties were difficult to sway but who could be certain? Those thoughts were lost, however, as he caught the sound of somebody behind him; somebody large and yet, certainly familiar. There were few scents he forgot and it just so happened to be that Mortz's had been one to remember in particular; he had been stuck to Riopat's side for some time, after all, and she was an esteemed member of the pack.

Slowly, he turned to face the male, motioning at the same time so that he might join him if he so desired. By the male's approach - and the strange thing he brought with him - he did not imagine it to be a casual passing. Instead, he spoke of the most peculiar things, things that brought a slow chuckle out of Tesseract as he dipped his head in a small bow of... respect, perhaps, or gratitude at least. Though he understood little of what the male brought with him - these stones - he knew there must be something about them. Who was he to turn them away?

"I am glad to hear that, Mortz. You are a capable man, I hear. I had not the chance to thank you for saving my son, Judas, some time ago."

He flashed the male a broad grin, peering into the torn pelt to examine the way the stones glistened in the sun. The one's claimed to be gold shimmered like the very sun itself, and the emerald seemed to be the sea trapped in a solid state. They were Glorall through and through.

"I am positive Weylin would say he was glad to see you here still. You have been here even longer than I, after all. I am sorry that you have seen so many come and go, but I assure you, I shall not let such a thing happen again. This is our home now, no longer a thing to be won."

If the scars that littered him did not prove such a thing, he did not know what would. Perhaps, though, this would be a chance to bond with one of Glorall's oldest members. After all, a king might need treasures but he needed comrades and friends just as much.