King and Jester

Not long after the battle with Condemnation, the King of Swords was sitting on the vast stump of an ancient tree, surrounded by the dim twilight of the Hollows. The trunk of the tree was laying nearby, splintered and shredded by countless cuts, vile juices seeping out of it onto the scarlet moss. 

The trunk was hollow on the inside, and half-digested remains of dead Nightmare Creatures could be seen through the gaping holes in the bloodred wood. 

Anvil was cleaning his sword with an aloof expression on his regal face. 

Soon enough, there was the sound of footsteps, and Jest of Dagonet approached him from the direction of the temporary camp established by the six Saints. The dapper old man seemed undisturbed by the predatory rustle of the ancient jungle, leaning slightly on his cane.