In feeling out the problem himself, and seeing the look on the old Pendragon King's face, and his cruel pronouncement, Oliver could hardly set the problem away from his mind. The political he disliked, but the political was exactly what he was forced into at the moment. The mountain of the problem that they faced – his own position of Kingship – something that had seemed so arrogant to enforce that it seemed like a matter that he did not even tend to himself. Something in his heart, stating that such power should be given, rather than taken. For was it not his men, and the army that he led, that gave him such power? Yet in the same vein, was it not he who had plucked the crown from the soil, and decided that he would take that power for himself.
