"Ah, yes," the smith said, nodding. "I'd heard that there were some lads up to no good. Stormed a fortified estate of five hundred men with just seventy?" He shook his head. "Sounds almost too good to be true, but from the look of ya, I might be able to tell that it isn't. Looks like that's Syndran steel hanging from your waist, boy. Did you lose your weapon?"
"You can tell?" Vol asked, surprised.
"Course I can tell," the man said in annoyance. "A sword doesn't suit ya, for one, but I know those damn Syndran handles. They pump those swords out without a shred of passion, casting them instead of forging them. I must have seen half a hundred of them by now. So, what are you in for? Anything on the wall catch your fancy?"
