Ah, she speaks. It colors the otherwise faceless knight, confirms someone beneath the armor.

"...I do," the warlord replies simply, a correction, for he really doesn't have much to be doing himself. His voice is strange, perhaps an additional echo from his helmet, an electronic tinge. There's only the most minimal attempt at emotion injected into it, and with only two words, perhaps not very noticeable at all. He's stopped moving again, a dark pillar in the snow, silence falling again before his words chase it away again.

"Do you mean to strike me down?"