Born to one of the oldest families that still reigned in these lands, I had grown up hearing stories not only of my own lineage's history, but that of all of Moladion. I'd been fortunate, too, to have an uncle that had survived the skyfall who was still around to educate me about Old Moladion. Those were some of my favorite stories when I was a pup, my great-grandmother Boneclaw a figure I had looked up to for as long as I could remember. If I could be half the ruler that the Dominant Primordial Beast had been, then I would be able to count my time ruling alongside my sister in Spirane as worthy of our bloodline. But there were plenty of other families I'd been educated about, stories and legends alike told in the closeness of the den. Like many pups who were a bit rebellious when it came to following the rules, I'd been told about the Black Prince, how he might come and gobble up little girls who stayed out past their bedtime. And when I had grown up, I'd learned the gritty truth about the cannibalistic tendencies of him - and those like him. That, compounded by a certain purple-eyed boy's attack on me and my cousin in our puphood, and the shewolf who had tried to kill a guest on mountain soil, left a rather sour taste in my mouth when it came to cannibals and their ilk. When they wielded any kind of power, it was never used for good.

The suggestion of Asteraia returning to these 'old laws' disturbed me, but I had to know for sure if it was her. We might have only had one skirmish when we were both little more than teenagers, but I'd had a bad feeling about her then, and I had a bad feeling about her now. So I described the young wolf's appearance that was ingrained in my memory to him. He confirmed my suspicions, and I looked away for a moment. Perhaps it was better to at least know where she was, where her and her kind were congregating once more. At least we would that way we might know which direction they might come from, if they had reason to come. But the wolves of the free lands, they wouldn't be safe. Were they ever, really? I shook my head, an ear cocking to the side at Arturio's comment about being more worried about her teeth, and I chuckled as my fire-rimmed gaze returned to him. The tension was going out of me now, thinking it was a matter to deal with another day. Seemed they were adding up quickly - things to deal with now that I was a leader of a pack.

"Good to know," I said with a nod of my head. This had been an...interesting meeting to say the least. I'd done my fair share of diplomatic training growing up as the heir to the throne, but this encounter had been atypical to say the least. But things had gone well, if I could say so myself. We'd been able to provide something of worth to each other, anyways. Maybe I had more of a knack for the talking side of things than I gave myself credit for. "I'd offer you a den for the night, but you seem like you've got somewhere else you need to be. I won't keep you any longer. Thanks for the information, Arturio - and hey, you'll give us a heads up before things go down if you can, yeah?" It would be good to know when to expect injured wolves showing up at our borders - and hell, I just might want to be there if things escalated anyways.