The soldier was severely limited along his current status – but he played along, regardless of the follies and trials granted to him. It wasn’t the first time, nor the last, that he’d had to overcome another tribulation thrust upon him, and despite the frustrations rising against his mind (or perhaps that was more of Orsino, grumbling, hissing, snorting in displeasure: no battle, no blood), the boy still advanced. He followed as far as he could, maneuvering his feet and watching the world from his strange position, witnessing fish flutter by, still close to the surface, rummaging through light and nowhere near the darkness below. He shifted until he seemed to dangle above the others slowly shifting down, swiveling his ears to and fro to catch Kisamoa’s musings and tasks. Not to be outdone, he too thought of a word, something to note the world by –
 
Orsino’s reaction was immediate: a deep, haughty laugh chiming through their connection. From any other companion it might’ve come across as affectionate and amiable, but this particular kitsune’s responses had never been made in such a manner. Instead, flashes of violence and vehemence reaped through their minds, so callous, so defined, so resolute in their heedless, reckless fury that Erebos was nearly convinced they were real. The sable fox showed him images of fallen enemies, horns through their chests, blood drained and pooled from their wounds, a world bleached, scattered, marred, and scorned. The boy shook his head, grimaced at the tell-tale signs of apathy and unholy regard; a sacrilege to the earth, and knew he couldn’t answer with the words Orsino dearly yearned to use (ruin). Say it!, the little beast echoed over and over again – bewitching and igniting, incensing and churning, and the prince was suddenly very glad no one could see him now, struggling and fighting against the noxious fumes of soullessness and depravity (how it unsettled him, how it lived inside him). There was more to the realm than ruthlessness – he’d known, he’d experienced it, he’d lived it, but his heart had twisted upon itself more than once, and the lad was well aware he couldn’t answer with piety or virtue.
 
Justice, he thought instead, ignoring Orsino’s growls, because vengeance would be his one day, and the rest of the earth, even those deep in the fathoms, crawling amidst fallen ruins and drowned castles, should’ve understood the honor of such a calling. He wanted them to comprehend the value of equity, of reprisal, of taking an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, of creeds, promises, and benedictions given to fallen allies, comrades, and friends. Erebos closed his eyes and thrummed it along his soul, burned it against his mind, until Orsino fell silent.
 
[Erebos' word is 'justice'.]

Erebos

i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want