There was a cheer at that. An odd sort of cheer. It wasn't the cheer of soldiers, filled with morale. It wasn't even especially a loud cheer, but it was firm. The ort of cheer that might be accompanied by clenched fists and gritted teeth. There was resolve in this cheer. Oliver knew from that cheer, that if these people had to fight again, they would, and with far less hesitation than they had the first time. They'd become battle-hardened in a way that was distinctly different from the soldiery.
"A strong village, this is," Oliver said. "I am proud of it. Immensely proud. I can not think of anywhere else I would have preferred Lord Blackwell send me. We have fought together, and bled together. We are not a Lord and underlings. We're a united army of Solgrim."
