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Vol.7, Ch.3, P.2

With the battle won, I quickly cleaned the soot-steel and began to set off. Though Vilmar lay dead alongside his vanquished varlets, there likely lurked more of their lot yet in this college, and I was loath to test my luck again against so great a number. Only, I found myself quitting unaccompanied. Halting, I turned; and there was Björn having budged not a bit. He stood inspecting all his person, from helm to heel and gambeson to gauntlet, making certain that no rivet slacked, nor silver plate hung out of place. At the last, he straightened his straps and braced his belt.

“…”

But as I watched him on some whim, he soon looked back. And then his brows bent, and his moustache bristled, as though to say, You had better do the same, you buffoon.

“Ah…