It was after the Vale King had finished training Elena that control was relinquished back to him. Six thousand and fifty-six times, he died combating the Vale King. The man certainly did not shy away from blinking, and neither did Altair. He would not deny that part of him. He would defeat him one day.
"Master?" Tasha called to him from the reins of his carriage. He often liked to drive. He had never gotten the chance back on Terra. The horses were moving a bit fast, faster than normal horses that could, at most, pull a carriage for fifteen miles. Almor-bred horses could do so for a hundred miles. It wasn't far, in his opinion; he was better off leaving and returning with a car or bike, but he had an image to maintain.
Tasha sat coach, leaning her head against his shoulder. He could smell the blood on her; he could practically taste it. She had done what he asked—what the Vale King had asked. There wasn't much distinction between them. Not really.
