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Erbrand watched the game with keen interest, it was a different type of skill than he was use to, although he was handy with a knife he could never throw one and hit a target. The skill of the players amazed him, but the performance of Scyld disturbed him. One after another of Scyld's dagger found its mark in the target, and from the look on Scyld's face it was a skill he knew well.
Erbrand had always considered a knife to be cruel when used as a weapon. Although he himself carried one, it was used for practical means, he had not twisted the use of a kitchen utensil into a killing tool. A knife was a thing that muggers concealed in under their garments in order to strike at an unsuspecting passer, a coward's weapon that could be easily be taken up and hidden in moment. Erbrand had always thought that Scyld was a shifty mysterious fellow, however, his distrust began to deepen as he saw how easily Scyld had won.
Like others, Erbrand congratulated the players of the hall. Scyld was smiling proudfully at his victory when Erbrand walked up. The handshake that Erbrand recieved from the victor was loose and shifty, ready to be rid of the hand that clasped it (the type of shake that Erbrand had recieved from peddlers who tried to con him of his goods).
"Well done on the victory," Erbrand said, addressing Scyld, "your skills with a knife are remarkable. Forgive me if I am being too bold, but tell me: where would a man obtain such a skill?"
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