"Leave it. I want to see what Finald does," Vol said, more curious than anything. His warhammer was lying nearby. In truth, he was itching to make an example of one of these newcomers. If they saw one of their order viciously crushed by his weighty weapon, he was quite certain it would inspire a wave of quiet.
Quiet, though, wasn't akin to loyalty. Assimilation, it seemed, was more to do with tiny little confrontations like the one Finald was engaged in, rather than the Commander doing all the work.
Finald smiled at the youth's threat. Finally, he put his bowl of porridge down. "You know, I reckons you might be somewhat strong, kid."
"Yeah? What makes you think that?" The youth said, pointing his sword at Finald's chest, smiling with a look of superiority on his face.
"Because it seems the Boss is a good judge of strength," Finald replied.
"Evidently."
