He waited for the first soldier to speak to him to pretend to be polite, before he leaned forward, and began speaking the language of sergeant to the private. "Maybe I didn't hear you properly soldier, so I am gonna give you a chance to go and get your sergeant before I dress you down for being a disgrace to the uniform. Your shirt buttons are undone, I see rust on that armor, your helmet is on crooked, and I know stubble when I see it. I would almost think I was talking to a bandit. Now go get your bleeding sergeant, before I lose my temper with you, you unclaimed offspring of a leprous, crippled she-moose!"<br/><br/>He nodded politely once they got the sergeant, but winced when he mentioned being denied access. He was glad he had the illusion of a slightly shorter but more muscled man upon him. "I understand your position sergeant, which is why I am going to suggest you let me and mine through."<br/><br/>He jerked his head to the side, and once they were a few feet from the sergeant, he pulled out a small canteen of liquor. "Drink?<br/><br/>Look, the reason I need to get through is because I got... lets call it hired, by what I suspect was a Fae to get a couple of her servants into that vale, get them to a small ruin just inside, and let them get whatever it is they are going to get. I don't know any more than that, because I don't want to know. Its like trying to figure out what an officer is thinking. You can't, and even if you did, it wouldn't help. We soldiers get to do the bleeding and dying, while they get to sit on their damn horses, look pretty, and get the credit for our blood in the mud."