Erskine never really gave the Cleavers much thought before this, but Wreath's sudden and strange reaction to them made him realise he... didn't really know what they were. Very few sorcerers did. Drones, he'd always assumed, and he probably wasn't the only one. A silent, nonmagical, and lethal army. Not quite human, not quite alive, not quite anything. He certainly hadn't expected them to have souls.

Maybe they didn't. Maybe Wreath's new 'sight' held more wonders than just souls. Either way, it was obvious Wreath didn't want to be anywhere near the Cleavers, and after everything the ex-Necromancer had gone through these past couple of days, that was a simple enough request Erskine didn't mind helping fulfill.

"What's so terrible about them?" he couldn't quite stop himself from asking. "We'll find another way to help you, if you're that opposed to it, but... should we even be using them?"