Faced with almost blatantly pointed questions, Stuart remained as calm as if he were not an eighteen-year-old young man, and Hacksaw continued to smile as if he had seen nothing.
"Sir."
Hilton narrowed his eyes dangerously, and called out respectfully once more.
"This doesn't match with what we agreed upon earlier, does it? I've sold my goods to you at the greatest discount. Which of you here hasn't eaten the food from my convoy? Whose equipment hasn't been repaired by the artisans in my convoy?"
"The guards of my convoy have also helped in many battles... We can't be like brothel patrons and refuse to recognize anyone after pulling up our pants, can we? That wouldn't be classy, nor right."
Hacksaw's expression didn't change at all.
"Of course, Mr. Hilton, that wouldn't be classy nor right..."
"But it could keep us alive."
"Can't you see how many people outside are starving, freezing to death?"
