[Aratar Mori'ithil]

There was one main reason why Aratar used longknives. He'd seen them used only once in his life. That was a moment he'd never forget. It was a street brawl. Eighteen people were mixed up in a territory fight, three of which had been orcs. The side wit the orcs had eleven people, versus the other's seven. The side against the orcs was getting pushed back, and pushed back hard. When the ninteenth person showed, reinforcing the seven, he was clearly a hired hand...and he knew his stuff. Inside of five minutes not a single one of the other eleven were conscious much less standing, and precious few of them were breathing. The man with the longknives had, in one swift and terrible smattering of instances, ripped the entire defense to shreds, orcs and all.

This man in currently in front of Ar might have been a seasoned veteran, but he clearly had never seen what a properly trained pair of longknives could do.

"Alright...but if they ask for crowns, I'm going to have them bill the legion as per the Ministry's agreement." It wasn't a question. The Provost had clearly offered to pay expenses, and Aratar could have been stingy and saved his crowns for training rather then armor, but he had figured they would rather pay a small handful of crowns to some rangers rather then a precious suit of armor that usually was scarce near the front line. It was a better deal for them all around.

He left, closing the door behind him, glad he didn't have to salute and call that ignorant canine 'sir'. Yes, mercenary work suited him far better then enlisted soldiering, of that much he was sure.