The odd little meeting started off in a boring sort of way, in the Nightshade's perception, and he quickly found himself resting a cloven hoof upon the hard floor of the Basin. He noted the names of the two strangers as Arah gave them; Ophelia and Archibald. The Mender gazed at the duo once again and shrugged, names were all well and good but what was their purpose. It was a fellow with the leonine tail who had accompanied Arah who first shed light on the situation with his notification about seeing Psyche about a contract. d'Artagnan frowned, but he had already noticed the arrival of the Empress herself and so remained silent as the two females exchanged words. It seemed they had sought out this Grey to form a contract, apparently Psyche thought they were in need of more warriors and the blood bay had to stifle a snort at that. He had not yet met one stallion or mare that portrayed a threat to the Basin. They were all weak in the eyes of the Nightshade.

Ophelia continued onwards as she offered her land's services and notified them about a group that called themselves the Assassins. d'Artagnan surmised that if their Leader was caught and their members scattered that, in truth, they posed no threat. Though he remembered the name, his old age giving him the wisdom to not so readily write off an enemy. All in all, d'Artagnan saw little reason for him to contribute to the conversation. That was until Ophelia spoke for the last time and his gaze hardened. So Mesec had ran to the Foothills? For a moment, d'Artagnan was consumed by rage and it took sometime for him to control himself because, after all, what did he expect? He was the son of the Moon Goddess, it was just typical that he had inherited her untrustworthiness.

He swallowed, allowing Deimos to speak before he finally mastered himself well enough to address Ophelia, ignoring the growls of Aramis and the silver dragon that moved in protection of his bonded. "Ah so I see that you have met my son. That boy will only bring you trouble. If he does not have the strength to stand up for himself then, he may share my blood, but he is no son of mine. I would rip those wings off him myself if it wasn't for his mother" he growled angrily. Maybe he hadn't mastered himself quite as well as he thought.