The freckle faced boy sat outside the meeting hall, and took deep breaths to try and calm his nerves. It had been horrible, the chaos in that treasure room, the Great Knights fighting amongst each other, the way the violent atmosphere had completely taken over, just thinking about it left Oliver’s shoulders tense and his hands trembling.
As much as he had tried, he had not been able to defend Gawain long enough to get the information that could have helped them. His forearm still ached where he had been bitten by that knight-apprentice gone crazy, but the pain in his heart was worse. He had failed. Before Gawain could give them any reply, he had been cut down by some witless apprentice who proclaimed him a liar, without even realizing Gawain had barely given them anything, let alone words that could be accused of being untruth. The apprentice had broken past his guard. Perhaps it was for that reason Oliver himself had not been cut down when Percival stepped in to deliver the killing blow. He was fortunate… but did not feel as such.
Footsteps passed him, and Oliver glanced up to make sure he was not in anyone’s way. His expression was distant, woeful even, and the knights who he scooted away from would probably not even notice his emotional turmoil…
But as he glanced back to make sure there were no more coming to pass him, a familiar face caught his eye.
“H-Horace!” Oliver squeaked, immediately aghast, with all his own troubles forgotten. “Horace, your face!”
The Semblance of Unity
