There were more questions like that.
He sighed quietly and looked at Anvil.
Was the King of Swords contemplating the same problems Sunny was?
Somehow, he doubted it.
Eventually, Anvil shifted his gaze and looked at Morgan.
Everyone in the chamber held their breaths, feeling that his next words could very well change the flow of history.
The King of Swords considered his daughter for a few moments, and then said evenly:
"Return to Bastion. Stop him at all costs."
Morgan smiled faintly, then bowed.
"How many Saints can I take with me?"
Anvil simply raised an eyebrow.
"He is one man. You alone should be enough."
Morgan's lips trembled slightly. She straightened and looked at her father with the same faint smile.
"That man has the company of a dozen taken Saints. Am I supposed to stop him — all of him — alone? That hardly seems fair."
The King of Swords looked away from her and shrugged.
"If you think that it's unfair, go and find Saints of your own."
Sunny was listening to their dialogue with a feeling of incongruity. Why was Anvil so nonchalant? Why wasn't he sending more forces back to Bastion with Morgan? Was the progress in Godgrave really that important, or did he simply not care about losing control of more Citadels to Mordret?
If so, why?
Either the King of Swords had lost his mind, or there was something Sunny was failing to understand.
Morgan remained silent for a while, then bowed again.
"As you command."
She straightened, and then suddenly pointed at Naeve.
"Oh, look. I found a Saint. Can I take him?"
Anvil waved his head dismissively.
"Do with the remnant Nightwalkers as you wish."
He turned his heavy gaze back to her, studied her face closely, and then added in a cold tone:
"...Don't lose to that creature again, Morgan."