'If anyone is capable of redrawing accurately the fake map, I'll simply tell them the informations on it were fake and negotiate for the truth instead.' Oswald thought, scanning everyone's reaction.
His power move worked and he was led to what was once Anderson's quarters. On the table, one of the bloody pelt left behind was spread on the table and the map was drawn with charcoal all over it.
The group of men stood still, waiting for him to deliver the precious data. Sometimes, one asked the boys how they had survived outside of the camp.
"We talk both languages. We were lord Romero's personal translators and special unit. I'd gladly demonstrate my strength, once I'm done with dinner." The redhead finally spoke, he was surprised of his own natural ability to communicate with the Spanish people, his muscles were stiff and his fists tight. He needed every ounce of focus available to keep his cool while using the curse.
