Dragoncrest Cliffs We can bow 'cause our music's warmer than blood

At the first outburst, Vercingetorix rose to his feet, looming over the coywolf with a glint in his eye. He let him have his little tantrum, but then his lips peeled back from his teeth, and he fixed his bi-colored glare on Ephraim as he responded. Enough, he growled, his voice brooking no opposition. I'm not gonna sit and listen to a lecture on battle tactics from you. You asked me why, and I told you why. Now it's your turn to listen. Absorb the shit I say. Not try and argue it back to me.

For all his independence in other areas, when it came to the way of the warrior, Verx was rigid, steadfast to what he had learned. Anything contradicting his lessons was swept away without care. Even if Ephraim had a point--and he, in some sense, did--he wouldn't have cared to listen. And certainly not when delivered in that tone.

They came because we had one of theirs prisoner, he said, cooling down by a few degrees. They were well within their rights to strike. And then we killed another, and took the girl for a while as well. Going down there--Ephraim, we had already earned their hatred. Going down there and ending it wouldn't have worked. Not on their home turf. Not when they were so angry. Even if we wiped out their entire crew, we would have lost lives on our side.

That's not worth it, bro, Verx stressed, staring down at the boy, trying to make him see. Losing Blixen, Dio, Heda. . .all to prove a point? To wipe out an enemy? That's not worth it, to me. He sighed, turning away and sitting down again. His gaze raked the water as he continued. They come again, and we'll fight back. They do something fucked up, and we'll fight back. But an uneasy peace is better than no peace at all.