Oliver listened to them talk, his fear swelling his heart, war beating more loudly in his ears with every passing step. He was being forced to take in more information than he could possibly bear. The more frightened he became, the more he drank in. He could hear the feet outside, moving in unison. He could hear the tents collapsing, and the spears being gathered, as men joined their ranks for their march of war.
He could hear General Blackwell shifting in his chair, and he could feel the man's irritation. He felt it so strongly that he did not even want to look in the man's direction. He felt small, and unwelcome in that room of giants. He kept his eyes on the table in front of him, trying to hide the shake in his hands. Even Volguard, he felt unworthy of looking in the direction of. He felt as if he were a criminal of some sort, a trespasser in the land of grandness, and he had no place there.
