"Not entirely," Vol said. "Don't spend all that in one go. I've sent my other men off earlier with the same instructions, but get yourself cleaned up, and save a gold coin for a uniform. We'll get that sorted in the days to come."
The scrawny warrior put a coin absentmindedly to his mouth, giving it a bite. It deformed slightly, as he expected, but now he was left standing dazed, as if he could hardly believe what was happening. "I'm old, you know," he said suddenly. "Be forty-five this year, I think."
"You're still strong enough," Vol said. "That's what I'm interested in, not your age." In truth, that age set him by far as the oldest amongst Vol's men, by seven or eight years at least. This was not a profession that people often grew old in.
"Hm…" Silverfish said, thoroughly out of his rhythm by now. "So, you just wandered in here, didn't you – you still looking for more men? I suppose I can help. How many men are you looking for?"
