"The High King has shown me a place where I have worth," Oliver said, still keeping his eyes low. "I am not a man that will do well in the noble courts. All present can see that for themselves. Passing Scroll or not, what I am and what I shall become will not change. The campaign to the East is an opportunity for a man like me. I must seize it."
It was half-lie and half-truth. It was very much a nobleman's way of dancing around a problem, though Oliver did not acknowledge that himself.
"You've fought and won many victories, Ser Patrick," Asabel said, through Lancelot's voice, as he wore a twisted look on his face. "Forty-four, I believe is your current count. I can see why Lord Blackwell would be excited, for a youth of your talent to enter his ranks. No doubt you too are eager to be of use to him, after many long years."
"I am, Your Grace," Oliver said honestly. "I made a promise with him many years ago. Lord Blackwell is a good man. It shall be my honour to fight under him."
