Eriv stood up and helped Azeryan, who was kneeling on one knee to apologize, brushing off the young man's shoulder robe with his pale palm, looking serene.
"No need to mind, those who step onto the battlefield, regardless of status, have already put life and death aside, let alone your father's state at that time, which I have personally experienced. If blame is to be laid, blame it on this fickle fate, and... those damned demons you speak of."
Eriv sighed and warned, "But you must understand, your father's sanity is unpredictable, he is tormented by a terrible power. If Charlemagne loses control, I will not only be unable to protect you but also unable to defy his orders... Do you still insist on going?"
Azeryan, now standing, nodded firmly, "I must completely redeem him before my father makes a bigger mistake."
