The Sword's Lacking - Part 8

"It seems a little late for that," Verdant announced, loud enough that Firyr and the other men could hear him. Naturally, even when Oliver approached quietly, Verdant was always likely to find him.

"Oh, shit," Firyr said, throwing a hurried salute up, as an example to the rest of the men. They must have trained that, for unlike their work with the spear, the salute of a fist that they slammed into their sternums was swift.

"At ease," Oliver told them. "I'll be interested to see what the work you've put in has amounted to," he said, pretending that he hadn't already seen them at work already."

The men could not have looked more nervous. Oliver could see the fear streaming off them. Firyr had to fight to hide his smile. He'd broken their pride within the week, and put fear in its place. Though Oliver supposed that wasn't too difficult to do for the already broken slaves – what they needed was building back up.