Oliver shivered, as if his body suddenly remembered the state of his own cold. He could feel his tears freezing against his cheeks. He felt undeniably weak. But, by his master's words, he wondered if that weakness was not a good thing – if it was not his punishment for daring to grab power as he had.
"I don't think there will ever come a time when I am equal to that power, Master," Oliver said to himself, looking at the pale blue of his near-frozen hands. "Never. Even the power of a Captain left me uneasy. To so suddenly be where I am, how could I ever get used to it? How could my hands ever stop shaking?"
"I can tell you how," Ingolsol offered.
"And silence with you," Oliver thundered, feeling a sudden flash of anger. "You and your temptations are half of the reason that we find ourselves in this position. I hope you are happy, Ingolsol, your manoeuvrings have pushed the country right into the war that was threatened."
