Regulus seemed slow to act. But he was just thinking, really. Comparing this battle to all the ones he'd participated in back home, back with the Death Eaters. And noticing all the differences.

Back home, this very thing had terrified him. But he'd learned quickly how to fight despite his fear, because he'd feared something more. Being found out by the wrong side--his side.

But none of that had followed him here. No one here knew him from Merlin. And he hadn't chosen any of this. He'd made no pact with the magical devil, that he knew of, here. They'd plucked him out of the water and if he didn't pull his weight, he didn't get fed and time in a solitary jail cell. Or worse, probably being tossed back into the sea.

In otherwords, this wasn't his fight, he was ancillary. The moral right and wrong here didn't weigh on his mind or his to measure and define.

"I think-"

He was cut off by the battle cry of one of their assailants playing the warrior and swinging across towards them.

Not his morals in the balance, but he did have to defend himself.

His wrist twitched and the rope the man was swinging on sliced clean in two, and the man fell into the ocean, scream changing seconds later to something less confident just before the splash.

"Chaos is the point," he finished his thought.

A friend of the fallen started swinging across from the other ship. And Regulus figured it was the polite thing to do to let his companion take care of this one and gestured as such.