[Espy]

Attila appeared, arms crossed, slightly scowling at the taller man. But the Hun was used to meeting the gaze of men of higher stature, and this was no different. His beady eyes took in the entirety of the person who had summoned him, assessing, calculating, as any good conqueror would both prey and predator.

The man in front of him wore what, to him, were clean, crisp clothes. Attila's scowl darkened. Nice clothes were hardly suited to battle. He himself preferred his fur cloak, fraying cloth tunic, and chestguard, and the weight of the bow and quiver slung over his shoulders. But his..."Master"...had an aura of battle about him; he had seen the bloody fighting and death and pain. Perhaps this Master wouldn't be so naive.

He rolled the word around on his tongue. Surely he wouldn't have to refer to this man as such, would he...?

He uncrossed his arms and rolled his shoulders back.

"So. Under whose name shall I conquer the world again?