Inwardly, he rankles at being called "some kind of" royalty. Ignorant clod, there's no question about the royal blood that courses through his veins.

"The Empire values strength. Even those of common birth know this."

But then the footfalls dogging his come to a sudden stop, abruptly enough that it turns Berkut's head. He squints. Though the color is striking, what piques his interest is something else entirely. Wordlessly, he makes for that spot in the distance, where his gaze falls on the familiar spearhead.

"This is . . . "