That was what the with the kettle hat had said. Genseric held a tight grip on the hilt of his sword, and was ready to draw it when the first sign of them walking forward had begun. He kept his eyes on them. They outnumbered them, but only four to three. They were only brigands, and they were skilled fighters. At least, that was what Genseric had hoped was the case. Genseric was not afraid of them, and had been prepared for this.

Then Jahan began talking, coercing them into abandoning their hostile position and joining them. Genseric glanced at him as he began talking, and then put his eyes back on to those hostile forces wielding cleavers and morning stars. Genseric was hesitant to think that this would really work. As brigands, they couldn’t be trusted to behave as honest men do. To steal or cheat was simply a part of the life that they lived.

He wondered if these men would really would lay down their arms with simply some arguing. Jahan was speaking to them, and it seemed that they listened, yet would they find it agreeable? Genseric wasn’t so sure, yet he wanted to believe that it was so. His arguments seemed like they must have been agreeable. If they believed him, wouldn’t they have to agree to go along with him? Genseric hoped so.

Yet Genseric never loosened his grip on the handle of his sword or took his eyes off of the hostile forces. Hostility could break out at any moment, and Genseric had to ensure he would be ready when that moment came. His eyes stayed active, looking for any sign of change that would note that they were beginning to engage in hostilities, and he would be ready.