When they heard the rest of the hall resume their eating, with the clang of knives and forks on plates and gentle conversation once more filling the room, they continued their conversation.
"Did you not just point out all the reasons why that would be a bad idea," Oliver asked, as he took a sip of his own drink. A lovely cherry juice. The sort of richness afforded only to nobility. He enjoyed it immensely.
"Indeed. As the oldest son of three, I was meant to be my father's inheritor, three years back. I declined, after my shipwreck, and came here. That angered him. He's since said that he would name my brother heir in my place, as a threat, I assume, but he has not declared it officially. I have no doubt that once he hears of me swearing loyalty to the son of Dominus Patrick, there will be no end of trouble," Verdant said.
"And you have no interest in being an heir?" Oliver asked.
