"Sorry if I'm interrupting your break, I need to know if your friend's state has worsened during his training session."
He had a serious face, his worst fear after loosing the great war was to break his pact with his wandering devil. By approaching a random group rather than joining his commanders for dinner, he surprised Laurel, Tom and James.
Having another man to obstruct sun's light already made them anxious, moreover the difference in battle experience was obvious. He was no enemy but their hierarchic superior, highest rank possible in the camp, it was a little hard for them to breath.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Oswald said. "Tom, tell colonel Silva how you got injured."
Anderson's fists tightened. The great power that led his army to the victory, his most potent weapon, now depended of a fourteen-years-old boy's reply.
"I fell, sir. Those few scars on my face won't affect my skills thankfully."
