Karl rolled his eyes at the smug General.
"Well, I still don't have a Royal Rank head as a trophy for my dorm room. I suppose a Frost Giant will have to do. A bit large for the display case, but such is life." He answered while everyone else paused, not taking the bait as the General tried to goad them into something that would give him an excuse to put a black mark on their records.
General Orland, the Royal Rank General with the harsh voice, which Karl suspected might be due to a previous throat injury that was hidden below his collar and tie, gave him a knowing smile.
As always, when the Elites with bureaucratic titles met with the Mercenary Elites, it had turned into a dick measuring contest.