"Hm. There is a war going on. Of course there's reason to be wary." He was almost completely believing that the female was out of it by now. The Avalia were usually self-righteous noble idiots who insist on doing things the 'noble' way. Deception was a less-used option as they consider it beneath them.

Walking over to a tree, he snapped off a long, but sturdy-looking branch and walk back to the female, handing it over to her. "Here. Use this to lessen the pressure on your foot if you don't want it damaged for the rest of your life."

Walking at a slow pace so the female could keep up, Archer replied absent-mindedly: "I don't know. The war's been going on for a long time, longer than I can remember. I'm in it for personal reasons, I've never asked for the bigger picture." His ultimate goal was all that mattered to him; the rest he could care less.

Archer rolled his eyes at the girl's (unintentional or not) antics. Not that it was much of a secret; everyone who knew him probably knew what his goals were.

"I'm in it to wipe out the centaur race." He stated calmly, as if discussing the weather. "They are a despicable, self-righteous and arrogant race, and I want them to know that their self-importance means nothing in the face of true power, talent, and strength." And the look on their face would be priceless once they knew who was the one wiping them out; the pitiful, deformed half-breed of a creature that they refused to admit was one of theirs all those years ago...he would enjoy slaughtering every single one of them after drinking in their expressions. Oh, he would enjoy it so.

Archer shot the female a dirty look for poking him with a stick, but replied nonetheless. "For the reasons I just stated."

Soon, they reached the borders of the Ezaira camp. "We're here. The general's tent is that way." He pointed to the red tent in the distance after giving a wave to the border watch.

His lips thinned; he didn't like talking about himself. Not many knew him for what he was, and he intended to keep it that way.

"Let's just say we have very personal issues with each other." He said shortly, keeping his expression carefully blank, waving away the two patrols who had came near to inquire about the female trailing after him.

"General, do you have a moment?" He knocked on the door of the tent, eager to get this over with.

"Evil?" Archer snapped his head around sharply at her words. "'Evil' is but a matter of perspective. History is written by the victors, after all. And how is my goal in any way problematic?" He was suddenly riled by her words. "Evil is self-righteous bigots who thinks that anything not on par to their standards is dark, and should be put down. Evil is are those who do not accept anything that they consider abnormal. Evil is considering all those who haven't had a choice of their birthplace or parents to be deformed demons from hell, damned for eternity!" He hadn't noticed, but his voice had risen throughout his outburst. All those years of being shunned, spat upon, simply for being what he was...he was seething by the time he finished.

"Compared to them," he spat out the word like it was some sort of disease, "I am a saint."

Archer flinched at the sudden contact, but refocused on his rage to answer. "They'll learn. Right before I kill them."

((Blagh, mind fart. XD
Oh and Konan, I need the General to respond. XD))

He shrugged, not seeing what was so bad about it, if it means that the centaurs would pay. "All for one and one for all. They made me what I became today, and I will pay it right back to them."

Just then, a female ran out the tent, nearly colliding with him, and then disappearing off in the direction of the woods. What the...?

"General, sir? Are you alright? May I come in?" He inquired through the door.

"Yes. And the Vanquisher of the Centaurs is exactly what I intend on becoming before this war is over." Archer responded, not really paying attention to the female anymore; they obviously aren't on the save wavelength and they probably never will.

"General?"