"Good!" Blackbeard agreed. "There you see, oh troops of mine! We have the power to make this raid work. What good is a spear wall, or a shield wall once it crumbles? We will shatter these Syndran guardsmen, and we will take all of that we can grab!"
A calculated speech, one spoken when the men were in better spirits. Now they answered his voice. A few axes were raised into the air. They were less fractured than they were before. Slightly. Many of them were still relative strangers, despite having travelled for months. But Blackbeard had broken the ice.
!! SYSTEM SUGGESTION: CHECK BLACKBEARD'S LEVEL.
A System announcement broke Vol out of revelry. He frowned at the suggestion, but did as she said. His eyes widened with shock. Hadn't Blackbeard's level been 35 before? Why had it now suddenly jumped up to 50?
!! SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: THE STRENGTH OF COMMAND.
That was all it left him with, no matter how much Vol tried to press it, it would not give him any more than that. Once more, that information seemed locked to him. It seemed to be something to do with leadership, or Command, as the System put it. It had infected Nolan, he thought. And maybe it had infected Blackbeard too. Could that change in level be just because his men were more unified than before?
Those thoughts would have to wait. More of the raiders approached Vol to clap him on the shoulder.
"Good showing that, damn good showing. Doing it on a bad arm as well. What can ya do on a good arm?" An older man told him good-naturedly. Old, but the strength in his fingers still seemed strong enough to crush bone as he clasped Vol's shoulder a little too tightly.
Of course, Vol couldn't tell them that his shoulder was already fine. That it had healed without even a scratch. He knew enough to know the questions that would ask.
"Probably not much," Vol said. "I think it's my head that's doing most of it for me."
The old man laughed at that, even if it was a somewhat awkward joke. Vol found that he still had trouble speaking to people. It made him feel pathetic.
"Head as hard as an axe is it? They used to say that about me, they did. Let me tell you though, a weapon's a weapon, and I've outlived all those folk, so don't be so quick to dismiss it," he winked, clapping him on the shoulder to make room for the others.
"I reckon this'll be a storm of piss if you're breaking their ranks as easy as that," Moesh said. "Oh, here's that silver that the Boss was gonna give ya. Of course, if ya wanted to, I could invest it for you…"
Vol plucked it from his fingers before he could say much more. "Can't say I trust you to give me a fair deal of that, Moesh."
"Then you're learning," the raider said, scratching his bald head. From his smile, he didn't seem to be too displeased by the idea.
A few others came around to clap him on the back as Moesh left. Vol found himself feeling just a trickle of warmth. The slightest bit of camaraderie. These were all terrible men. Their hearts were as ugly as their appearances, but Gods it felt good to have some warmth, finally…
He'd done his best to ignore it, but his heart didn't seem to be as hard as he'd thought. For the first few days since Bolrif fell, he hadn't felt a thing… but now, nearly a week later, doubt was creeping in. Uncertainty. He hadn't liked his position in Bolrif, and he dreamed of doing better things… But it was familiar. It was safe. Now he had nothing like that. Familiarity seemed like it would be good.
Once the raiders cleared, he caught the children doing their battling a distance away. They had more weapons than they'd had the previous day. Six of them now. It seemed that some of them had already spent their coppers.
A little girl waved at him as he looked over. That too felt good. Better than being cursed by Usar and his men. Better than Lydia's face when she'd found out that he'd murdered her husband.
But a murderer was what a Yarmdon was. That was the life that he sought. Only now was he beginning to realize the subtle differences between those murders? As Jok had said, it was the people that decided what was Glory and what was mere murder and robbery. This raid on the Syndran noble mansion – that was Glory, wasn't it? The raiders certainly thought so.
"What're you doing standing off by yourself, newboy?" Blackbeard said, storming over. He'd set the rest of them up in groups, doing mock battle. Who knew how long that would last without deteriorating. Already Vol could see tempers were flaring, and men were casting aside shields to punch the opposition instead.
"Nothing," Vol said.
Blackbeard grunted. "Well, good work, anyway. I expect you don't realize quite how well you did. Strangers need connections, like a people need a God. You'll do fine for a little mascot, I think. Something for the men to believe in."
He spoke quietly as he watched the men. Vol wasn't even sure if Blackbeard was talking to him. It certainly seemed a little too honest for the raider.
"You follow me, aye?" Blackbeard said, turning to him. The question seemed a little out of turn, but Vol nodded regardless, though his nod came hesitantly.
Blackbeard seemed satisfied with that. "Then we'll glue these loose sticks together. Aye, even against five hundred…" He turned to stalk off.