"Tempest, Verdant, that is my name," Oliver said. "I share no blood with Dominus Patrick. He was my teacher."
Verdant withdrew his eyes. Oliver drove his heels into his horse, intending to breach the edge of Hod's engagement with the enemy. To secure an attack on the rear of Tiberius' men as he reunited with his own forces. Verdant kept pace, surprising him. Oliver looked over. The man's expression was as serious as Oliver had ever seen it. Oliver waited, expecting that harsh judgement from the man who had already said such harsh things.
"Your grandness, my Lord, it overwhelms me."
"What?" Oliver said, caught off guard. Not only for what he said, but for the title that Verdant gave him.
"You are a peasant by birth, are you not?" Verdant said, grinning wildly now.
"I am," Oliver said strangely lucid, but almost as frightened of Verdant as he had begun to grow frightened of Tiberius.
