Roblan clenched his fists. He couldn't tell whether Jolthar was brimming with confidence or drowning in arrogance. There was no doubt about his strength—Jolthar had already proven himself time and time again—but war was unpredictable.
It wasn't about strength alone. Strategies, ambushes, and sheer numbers could overwhelm even the mightiest warriors.
And not only that, the Empire could throw any number of tasks his way, and if he failed or faltered, it would mean not only his downfall but the barony's as well.
Roblan then said, "Jolthar, I get that you're strong, but this is war. You don't even know what kind of battle you're walking into."
Jolthar met his gaze, unwavering. "And neither do they."
Roblan shook his head. "That's not the point! If they demand you do something impossible—"
"I'll make it possible," he interrupted.
He let out a long, exasperated sigh. "You're impossible."
Jolthar chuckled. "That's what makes me special."
