That should have been a moment to cheer, yet the tension was still like a hot rod in all of their stomachs. Until the moment Oliver felt the chains around his hands loosen, he could not relax. He saw Asabel smiling at the back of the room, truly glad, but Oliver felt like there had to be something more… Some fly in the ointment, some added manoeuvre that would make their time more difficult.
"Then," Jolamire said with a sigh, righting himself, "I suppose these notes of advice from the King might prove useful, as we decide what to make of this trial and its conclusion."
There was a self-satisfied look on his face, as he brushed past Hod, and handed Tavar a sealed letter of his own, this one done with golden wax, bearing the crown of the High King of the Stormfront.
"You are aware, of course, that the High King has no judicial power here?" Hod reminded him with narrowed eyes. "Suggestions though the King might have, we are in no position to follow them."
