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Armor clanked alongside the sound of heavy boots pounding through grass and underbrush, quiet uncharacteristic swearing filling the air as Arvain ran. Or at least jogged, kind of. It was a little hard to maintain speed while bleeding heavily in full plate armor, but he did his best until he found a suitable copse with plentiful bushes to hide in. He’d apparently picked a fight with someone too powerful to handle alone; he sighed and let his head fall back against the tree behind him with a groan.
A shuffling sound nearby had his head snapping back up almost immediately, however, and Arvain suppressed a frustrated growl as he spotted undead abominations wandering near to his hiding spot. He gripped the hilt of his scimitar, but as he watched, they didn’t appear interested in coming any closer. They just… circled. A chill ran down his spine at the realization, which only intensified as a large form touched down in the distance.
The Forsaken normally did not patrol this region, being slightly outside of the territory (or “workspace,” as he preferred to call it) he had chosen for his duties. The Forsaken also normally did not receive reports from his constructs of certain knights appearing to be in distress; he had a certain interest in ascertaining the nature of Arvain’s situation himself.
As he approached the copse his constructs had followed Arvain to, he locked eyes with the knight. Arvain sat stock still as the Forsaken knelt in front of him, carefully removing his helm and studying the bruises and cuts littering his face.
Expression unreadable behind his mask of ice, the Forsaken murmured, “Who did this to you?”
Arvain blinked in surprise, but before he could answer, the Forsaken was already focused elsewhere. The vampire rose, still holding Arvain’s helm, and stepped out from behind the trees.
“Ah! The Forsaken!” cried some uninteresting general of Valmore’s - the Forsaken had not seen it worth learning their name. “Found my quarry, have you? Shall we finish him together, or would you mind returning him to me?”
Arvain watched from his hiding spot as the Forsaken silently studied the newcomer. The vampire’s head tilted to the side slightly. “You did this.”
The stranger seemed taken aback. “Well, yes, he is a knight, and you know our ord-”
A surge of movement cut them off. The Forsaken, unmoving, watched as his constructs lept from cover throughout the valley to sink teeth and claws into the intruder. There was a horrible shriek and a series of gruesomely wet noises as judgement was rendered, and then finally all was still. The Forsaken continued to stare at the place where his presumed ally had been standing moments before.
Eventually, he turned back to Arvain. The knight tensed as he slowly returned to the copse where Arvain was hiding, but the Forsaken simply knelt again and handed his helmet back to him.
“You should take more care to evaluate your opponents before making a move,” he said. The mask kept Arvain from seeing his face, but Arvain could swear there was concern in those unnatural golden eyes.
“Deshival,” Arvain started softly, but the Forsaken reared back at the name, turning on his heel and stalking off the way he came.
Arvain sighed.
The Forsaken growled as he yanked his dagger from yet another general’s back, stepping around the body as it fell to the ground. He strode over to Arvain leaning against a wall for support, and impatiently ripped off the knight’s helm.
“What is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Have you got a death wish? How many times has this happened now?”
Arvain grinned at him, and shrugged. “You haven’t let me die yet.”
The Forsaken snarled. “Why haven’t you at least tried to bring backup or make better preparations? What if I hadn’t come?”
“But you did,” Arvain said with a smile. “You’re my backup, Dess.”
The Forsaken flinched back and moved to return Arvain’s helm, but Arvain caught his arm.
“You know you don’t have to leave, right?”
The Forsaken stared at him. Arvain’s confidence began to waver a little, but he powered through.
“I’ve heard enough from these, uh, encounters? To put together that these guys were supposed to be your allies. How long do you think you can keep going without them turning on you for this?”
The Forsaken glanced at the latest corpse he’d created, grimacing. “...It is getting harder to disguise my involvement, yes. What are you getting at?”
“Move in with me,” Arvain said immediately, and the Forsaken’s eyes snapped to his. “Uh, I mean, you can help me with what I’m doing with the knights, and I can hide you, or whatever you need. I’ll protect you.”
The Forsaken stared at him again. “...I have been protecting you for several months now.”
“Exactly! It’s my turn now,” Arvain beamed. “Help me do good, Dess, instead of… all this. Please.”
Looking away, the Forsaken let out a quiet grunt. “I will… think on it.”
Forcing the smile to stay on his face, Arvain nodded, releasing the Forsaken’s arm. He watched as the vampire left, and refused to let himself feel disheartened.
That effort was (mostly) rewarded a few days later, when he returned home to find Deshival perched on the edge of his bed, eyes glowing ominously in the dark.