[center][h2][color=b5a0d2]Steffen Gravinir[/color][/h2][/center][hr]
The Ingvarr's display would have normally been perplexity and mild annoyance at the utter disregard of personal will in these so-called tests, but that grueling grind of perpetual death the other night already dulled his sense of impertinence. For now, Steffen simply let that Knight-Witch speak her piece, her praises left for later, and the journey proceed in silent observance. It was definitely weird, and made little sense from the world he came from, but he expected nothing less from this pseudo-dreamworld, but he'd give it ample credits that it was quite vivid and full of creative imagination like the paintings she sent in. Even more vivid was the old legend Cyrus in front of everyone. Steffen had close to zero doubts that this was a brush stroke on Merilia's canvas, and that the real legend was indeed relegated to that of legends, but it was such a lifelike recreation that even a small part of him was skeptical this was simply a memory fragment.

His mentioning that everybody of his caliber was in this city, everybody except for Elionne and Tyaethe, sparked an interest in him. Ever since that night, the words of Erich continued to kite in his head at the least expected moments, the Erich that was created by the same Knight-Witch. Would he have the same recollection of that night then? What else does he have to say? The Ingvarr wanted to see him face to face, outside the bloods a battlefield where his mind would be sharp and reflection clear. 

[color=b5a0d2]"Old man Erich is here, huh?"[/color] Steffen finally spoke up, stepping up from behind the group of knight, the deeper voice echoed a more serious aura compared to Cyrus and Fionn's more playful banters. [color=b5a0d2]"Am I going to have to find him myself? Or will there be directions?"[/color] 

[@Raineh Daze][@VitaVitaAR]