Visla's face lit up, and she wanted to celebrate, but her face dropped almost as soon as it rose. The Woet chief nodded in understanding of her rollercoaster of her expressions.
"That's…How has this not been noticed earlier?" She questioned with a helpless look toward the Woet chief.
"It probably has. I…take pride in myself. I may not be the best fighter the Woets have had, but I consider myself wise. Still, I can't hold a candle to the Arlecchs. I may have gotten caught up in the spirit of war and missed it, but they didn't." The Woet chief's brow was furrowed deeply as he stroked the edge of his cushion.
"The Arlecchs…" Visla echoed with a low voice. "They were one of the tribes pushing for the war," she continued with a heavy expression.
The Woet chief stroked the cushion a little before saying,
