You should not have so anxiously awaited his response, hung so heavily forward to hear what he might say to you on the matter of the beast and the Basin, for you are sorely disappointed by his words. Be still please. You harrumph your gives voice to your mild annoyance at the distraction by the crafter's work. Regardless, you follow his command and hold as still as you can force your wobbling body to be. The silver near your face is curious and you have to forcibly hold back a desire to bite the unnatural thing out of the air. But then, it wouldn't do to bite the crafter's work before it is complete, you're sure.

To be fair, it's clearly fine work that has been well made. He must be practiced in this art as much as you're practiced in your art of war. But then the interesting conversation returns and you perk your ears to listen intently. Caution? Your brow furrows as you await the remainder of his words. Oh, to be steady. It seems Midas' soul burns slowly with a warm flame while yours burns blindingly hot. But perhaps that is why he will live longer than you, be more influential, more liked, more respected. He has steady passion, you have blinding rage.

But then his words come and you can't help but break into a violent laughter, body nearly tumbling back to the ground with the display. “Fail?” you spit out after he begs you to understand the consequences. “If I fail, I'll hang myself,” you promise him with a set of slurred words. There will be no failure for you in this mission. There is no match for the rage of family scorned and you are strong, practiced, ready. There has never been a mission so important to you in this life.

But in time your laughter fades and you can't help but return to your more somber attitude. “Thank you,” you respond to him as you take the spear from him, the words ambiguous as to whether you mean for the spear or for his council, but perhaps you mean for both. His words were... not what you expected, but not unwelcome either, though your laughter might have displayed otherwise. You appreciate that you have his acceptance, if not his approval.

In time, you turn to head towards the tent of the Falls where you can hopefully recover from your over-indulgence, hesitating only a moment as you turn back. “I won't need aid if I fail. But what if I succeed?” You'll have the Glass Horn to contend with. You don't look forward to the day.