"What about him?" Bolin pressed. "When he fights, does he hide in the back or charge to the front?"
"He scouts on the front lines and tests the weapons' effectiveness himself. I've fought alongside him. He's incredibly brave." As Ola spoke, his admiration was plain to see. "He says that being a lord isn't a title, it's a post."
After a long silence, Bolin stood up.
"A Dwarf who isn't a proper Dwarf, fighting for a noble who isn't like a noble, to protect a territory that isn't his own... Interesting."
Just then, Ola hammered in the last rivet.
He turned the shield over, feeling its surface with his palm. This was the first piece he and his uncle had completed together in fourteen years.
Bolin walked over to the shield, hefted it to test its weight, and knocked on its face with his knuckles.
"A good shield."
This was the highest praise Ola had ever heard from him.
Bolin hung the shield in the most conspicuous spot on the wall, then turned and walked into the storeroom.
