Henri's voice echoed in the tent. "Do I have to take your word as the sole proof of your adventure? Or perhaps you belong to a camp I have yet to acknowledge?" The little bit of confidence he had came from the hand of the orc. The man did not hesitate pushing the great general back on his chair.
But Henri's fears couldn't be concealed for someone with such an accurate nose as the wolf.
'What is this cocky attitude? Did wings sprout out of his back while we were away?'
Oswald saw through the intimidation attempt, he ignored the question and talked to the redhead instead. "I told you, we should've kept the blood on our face, they would've tried to identify us first and then ask about the situation. There's no need to talk to them, trust me, this one only talks with his fists." He pointed at the orc, making the man sneer.
"He's probably here to translate the rubbish we, soldiers, might babble under our dirty beards."
