Michael glanced over his shoulder briefly, then shifted back to bard, offering her a condescending smile. "You speak not of combat but battle. Yes, a mercenary joins a fight for money...but you can't spend silver when you're dead."
"Actual combat comes after that," the warrior explained, pacing a circle around Tara. "Now matter the why, everyone finds something in the moment protect." Once more, he came to stand before the mage and paused. "This-" he said, jabbing at her sternum before rapping her softly on the brow; "-and this. Heart and head. Every soldier, whether paid or not fights to save his own skin and nothing more." Turning back to the girl, he continued his lecture. "Everything else doesn't matter."
Joshua, though slightly engrossed by the mercenary's words, notice a slight shift in the camp and caught sight of soldiers serving themselves. Even a few casks of ale came out and cups were filled with the sweet beer. Wolfram caught the direction of the smith's gaze. "Ah. Well, it seems supper is ready. Shall we?" He gestured for the two ousiders to collect their food first.