He turned his eyes upwards, his mouth agape as he looked at Métius. His words caught in his throat, and he dared not say anything, lest he anger the Destroyer, making him believe that he was defiant, and have his wrath turn against his family. Beside him, Bazalus snarled, his dense black fur bristling, the spines along his back raising up.
“Be still or you will be sent back to the Abyss!” Métius snapped, looking down at the shadow hound. “How could you let the mortal tame you? Your loyalty to him cannot serve to here.”
A rumble went through Bazalus’s throat, and he laid down beside Zarrek’s body. He still looked discontent, but understood enough to be obedient.
“What Could you have done against a wraith?” Métius asked him. Bazalus laid his head down, and the Destroyer scoffed. “You know that you could not have fought it as you are. Now leave me to converse with this knight.”
Bazalus grumbled, but did not interfere.
“You have always served me well,” the Dark Lord noted as he turned back to Elezar. “You are a man of the sword, and also a man of your word.”
“I live by my oaths,” Elezar replied. “All of them.”
“Yes,” Métius said, stretching out the word as though his mind was buzzing with a thousand thoughts. “I am considering leaving you to your family, should you serve me in one more task.”
“I would be honored to follow your commands, my dark master,” Elezar told him, his arm crossing over his chest as he bowed low.
“How good of you to cooperate, We both know how little cooperation he,” Métius went on, pointing to the prince who laid unconscious on the floor, “and his father gave me.”
“Yes, my lord,” was all that Elezar could muster for a reply. He feared what the Destroyer was going to ask him to do, and dreaded his orders– all the more because he knew that he would not be able to deny them.
“Remove his breastplate,” Métius commanded. Then he stared down at the man, waiting for him to obey, somewhere on the edge between patience and the lack thereof.