"Fight the Easterlings? My lord, that would be terribly dangerous. The few people we have are all farmers and workers who don't know how to fight. Surely it isn't right to send us into battle now?"
Allen looked at Hank, who stood before him with a panicked expression and a pitiful tone, and felt rather helpless.
A few months ago, weren't you "farmers" and "workers" the ones who gathered several hundred people to hunt Wargs in Mirkwood? You fought so fiercely back then, and now you're telling me you don't know how to fight? Some of the wounded are still lying in my hospital. Who do you think you're fooling?
Of course, Allen would never voice those complaints. Things simply weren't going as smoothly as he had hoped.
He had originally thought hiring the people of the three villages as mercenaries would be easy. It should have been no more than a matter of paying a little extra food, gold, and silver. Who could have guessed that Hank would refuse right from the start, without even bothering to negotiate?
Still, Allen could not possibly believe Hank's claim that these fierce Northern Men were unwilling to fight. He merely felt that he might have to pay a higher price to get this done. The question was, what exactly did the old man before him want?
"Hank, an Easterling army is bearing down on us, and our situation is precarious. At a time like this, we should be joining forces against our powerful enemy. Every moment we waste now could mean more casualties among our soldiers on the battlefield later."
What Allen meant was that Hank should state whatever conditions he had instead of playing hard to get. Allen was in a hurry and had no time for haggling.
After saying that,