Vanguard
Vanguard shrugged and smiled cryptically.
"Perhaps. The question is which one of us will be the one to savor it." He answered absently, it wasn't sure if the us he was referring to was himself and Erica or the creature and himself.
He walked calmly towards the arena, taking a glass of mead from a crowded table, much to the spectator's outrage. Drinking the foul, bitter brew sent a burning sensation through his body, coarse and wild. Of course, it was all fake, an imitation of what it meant to be alive. It would do.
For now.
"Erica, it is time for lesson number two. I will not have you join this battle simply as a follower, I have no need for a conformist. If you do fight at my side, it must be your own conscious choice to do so, a chosen path determined by your values. Is this fight worth battling? Can I afford to die here? Do I have anything to lose? There is no wrong answer, as long as you choose. So tell me, which road will you take. The slave or the man, the living or the dead? Will this meal be one you can savor, even if it is your last? Choose."