"I knew Balmeister's earlier assumption could not be trusted," a voice blurted from Gaverone's side. This made his attention be diverted from the Norsmundi to the source of the voice, who had approached him in horseback, wearing mail armor, pauldron, steel greaves and a leather cuirass topped with gray surcoat adorned with the raven crest. It was Eleanor Hilith, carrying her trusted poleaxe with pride and vigor, like a woman in her prime as she truly was.
"As graceful as ever, I see…" Gaverone remarked. "But why must you quarrel a lot with Balmeister, Eleanor?"
"You know his capabilities as general is less than adequate. His tactical acumen inept, strategic thinking lacking and his fighting prowess not even remarkable, more so that he is already past his prime. He is mediocre at best, but incompetent mostly if you'd ask me. What made you appoint him as your general, anyway?"
