Black Ice

In the discussion about the winged creature's fate, Thorvar held a harsh view: retribution. When he fully understood the situation, he was simply stunned and had no intention of making concessions to the cruel mage or listening to his deceitful speeches, in which the enemy tried to save his not-so-valuable hide.
When they received a letter from the Order, Thorvar treated it with skepticism.
“All my life, I dreamed of being in a real war. Well, not all my life, exactly... When I was little, I dreamed of catching a golden tuna, but that's not important. Anyway, I wanted to fight, but I wanted to fight for my own people, for the barbarians. Why should I break my back for the Order? I joined it to help fight against these vile mages,” the northerner slammed his fist on the table. “And there was no other persuasion! I don't know what's going on there, but that's the problem! What if they fight against my homeland? Or want to fight against it? I won't fight on the side of my enemy,” he said firmly. “I can only help a friend in the fight against a common enemy. But what is happening now no longer looks like such help.”
“And this Dalingr is a good guy... I think we can help him...”