Sylvester didn't dare to look up, as he could smell the emotions, and that was enough to check everything. They were enraged and particularly smelled of death. Sylvester knew the brute-looking men could easily kill him if they wanted to, but he was more valuable alive now.
Bam!
"Argh!" Sylvester was suddenly kicked in the ribs out of nowhere, instantly fracturing two of them.
"You think we are buffoons? We live in the mountains, so we won't see through your schemes? There is no way the King would agree. He has the church sitting above his head, and we are heathens in the eyes of you sunfuckers. Chief Koruk and I had an agreement beforehand. He gets to live in the Duchy of Normani, and my younger brother becomes its King. Why would he break the oath when he knows I can kill him instantly—Just like this!"
"Argh!" Sylvester cried in genuine pain and unloaded a thousand curses in his head in English and Russian.
