His boots clipped a rhythm down the corridor, as Oliver went striding in the opposite direction to Verdant. He gave nods to the soldiers that honoured him with their salutes and then with a knock and a murmured response, he let himself inside Hod's room, a short distance away.
Hod raised an eyebrow at him, seeing how animated Oliver was. "You stride in like a man determined. So, you have come to a decision? And I imagine it shall be a troublesome one."
"We take the High King prisoner," Oliver said.
"Indeed," Hod said, unflinching. "And was it not you who advised me that such a thing would be impossible. And wise advice after all it was. To expect that we might secure the High King in his own halls, during what will certainly be a pitched seize, and against such skilled opposition as Lord Blake – that's optimistic. To expect to secure him alive is even more so. You yourself pointed out that he was a bitter enough man that he would rather secure himself than be captured."
