Genseric did not like the way which the word impress came out. It was not the way in which the captain had said it, but the word itself. It seemed to always grate against his ear, something seeming deeply insincere about it. Yet at the time that was what he had set out to do, to impress, to make his mark here, wasn’t it? Genseric didn’t express this in any way, as any change in expression, no matter how little, could be detected, and Genseric did not wish to make the wrong expression.

Genseric uttered a farewell to their healer and cook. He should have learned her name by name, considering the companionship they had shared. On the other hand, hadn’t Genseric said to his brother that he was not here to make friends? He turned his head after saying a brief farewell to her and looked back to the others. Was it really wise to leave her defenseless?

These thoughts soon made way for new ones as they marched towards the camp, and came up to its wall. The woman from the north unleashed a volley of her arrows, but unfortunately it seemed their bodies had made a conspicuous sound. Genseric held one hand firmly on the handle of his sword now, and prepared the beginning of combat at any moment. 

However, it was not yet the time. He would follow the captain’s lead, and accept his judgement. As for his own views, he thought that the northerner was making the right decision. As she shot her arrow and then retreated further into the forest, creating a diversion, Genseric and the captain ran towards the wall.

When they arrived at it, it was clear that someone would need support to get over. The captain ask for his hands in this. Genseric, however, was thin and with an unimpressive stature, and was wearing a suit of armor.

“My hands are yours, sir,” Genseric said. “But this is impossible.”