"What's this guy talking about? Stealing muskets? I think we paid a large amount for it, didn't we, gentlemen?" The general stated. His hair was blonde with his eyes yellow, his face handsome. The armour he was wearing was of high quality, reflecting the sunlight of the morning, clean from the sight of blood.
And his voice spread through the winds, into the ears of the gentlemen, his officers, all on horseback and didn't see fighting since the start of the battle. They all laughed upon Kenneth, one even spitting in his direction, the spit falling short only a few centimetres from Kenneth's feet.
Kenneth and his soldiers behind him in other hands, have killed at least a man from their adversaries. Face and armour tainted with blood, their swords covered in it and still in their hands, gripped tight.
