Emeric froze in place as the voice rose above the din of the weather outside. Travelers, just like they were. Caught out in a storm. The Velian's suspicions softened, but the obvious Lindish accent did leave him slightly uneasy. More Lindeners in Stromland, and going by their previous encounter with the raiders, A Lindish accent was not necessarily a good sign.
"Hesitation kills." said Olaf, swinging his sword as a young Emeric parried with the shaft of his axe. "You have to kill uncertainty before it kills you!" he continued saying as the youth swung his axe at him, hitting the shield hard and sending the instructor back a few paces. The Velian's trainer, recovering quickly, suddenly lunged in from the right with shield and sword and the boy wondered briefly which he should be more worried about.
Just that was enough, the sound of oaken wood crashing against him was all he remembered from that little duel as it sent him down face first into the sand. He hadn't even had the time to recover that he suddenly felt cold steel press against his neck. "Quick wits aren't your strength, Emeric, so stick to that gut feeling of yours. I'd say it is better council." he concluded with a chuckle.
Back in the tower, Emeric suddenly made his decision. "Well you'll have to wait until our leader decides what to do with you!" he shouted, then with his shoulder, rammed the door shut, signalling Cuthred to help him brace it. He wondered if going upstairs would afford them a view of the group outside. For now, he felt it was safer to wait for Rikard.