Mithias wanted to explain further, but now was not the time. Hank's life was most certainly in danger in this war, but like his father before him, he must be left free to make his own decisions. Still, that didn't mean abandoning him.
Red eyes framed by snow white lashes peered at him kindly, yet fiercely expectant. What complicated machinations were turning behind them? Bedivere insisted on this preemptive attack, just the two of them, against a well armed compound of trained soldiers who had the experience of a previous assault and were knowingly at war. Did he really understand what he was about to get them into? The others at Magnus' bunker wouldn't even know they were fighting, and if they got in over their heads, Mithais was the least likely to escape.
On the other hand, a brief assault could be profitable. They would do the most damage initially, and then leave just as proper defenses could be initialized. Bedivere was indeed a relic, but some principles of war did not change. ...he was also insanely powerful in the dark.
Mithias hesitated briefly as he watched Bedivere outstrech a hand, then looked at his elder companion's face, searching for his resolve and intent. What he saw struck him. It was strangely, a need. Bedivere couldn't do this, wouldn't do this, without him. It was a request to be trusted and to be believed in. He had called Mithias his brother. Would the Gabrielin prince live up to it?
Mithias grabbed his hand and stood up with him, eye to eye, glaring as he held on tight. Bedivere was not just a manipulator, but a fighter, like himself. Mithias trusted him, and in many ways admired him, for he was far more alive than so many other burnt-out purposeless elders. "Let's do this." The younger said, a twinkle of fire in his yellow eyes.
