Frode, the chief warrior, was an honest and dependable man—the most typical kind of Varm barbarian.
He was hot-tempered and combative, rough and domineering, and never knew when to hold back. There was no reasoning with him. But when trouble came, he was genuinely willing to charge in, and once he set his mind on something, he would grit his teeth and see it through, no matter how difficult or exhausting it was.
Faced with such a stubborn, shameless man, the kings and heads of state, proud of their status, simply pretended they hadn't heard his brazen outburst. But in truth, Chief Warrior Frode wasn't wrong. The kings might have acted very bravely and spouted plenty of high-minded principles, but that didn't change the fact that their combat abilities were pathetic.
King Louis and the wolf girl were only at the level of elite Black Iron warriors. Governor Hood was a little better, a Silver-rank warrior, while Qiuqiute, who had been tagging along, was already the strongest among them. She was a chosen one!
Of course, compared with Lord Oufge, even she was a counterfeit chosen one.
As for Hogg, the gnoll in the wheelchair, there was even less to say.
Even without the wheelchair, the fellow wasn't as tall as Qiuqiute. Giving it a weapon and sending it into battle would be tantamount to sending it to its death.
There was also a joke about King Louis: whenever Countess Margaret got angry, he was the one who got beaten up, because even the countess was a Silver-rank female knight. He was a king who couldn't keep his wife in line, to put it plainly.
Chief Warrior Frode wasn't deliberately insulting these people when he said they would only be a burden if they stayed on Palace Mountain, a battlefield