Match your pulse with the rhythm of combat, and you'll dominate any fight.
"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?"