The Syndran shifted, glancing along the line of men. More than a few were sharing glances. It was a hard thing to agree to all at once. Even harder to trust. Until they held coin in their hands, they likely wouldn't believe it.
"You… do not ask why I was made a slave," the Syndran man noted. "Despite my rank."
"Murder?" Oliver guessed.
The man flinched, but nodded. "A Captain. Can you guarantee that I will not do the same to you?"
That brought a wolfish grin from Oliver, and it even elicited smiles from Greeves and Judas.
"That is something that I can propose, if you wish it," Oliver said. "You may attempt to strike me down at any point. Now, or later, I will accept any challenge. If you so much as manage to land a single line of blood on my skin, I will double your pay."
