"""URAHHH!""" The men howled, hearing the Command in Oliver's voice, and the will of Ingolsol. It was theirs. That desire to keep what belonged to them dug right into their souls. They were greedy men now, those that had once been called peasants. They were drunk on their newly acquired might. Their prides that had been so long crushed under the heel of those that had been called their betters blossomed under Oliver's influence.
They saw not his leaving as the burden that it indeed was, but the highest symbol of trust given by a General that they had sworn their loyalty to. To be left to defend as they were, without even a Commander. So excessive in their might they must have been, that they overpowered even in the others of their same company.
Oliver could spare them no time any longer. Only trust. He lowered his voice, and his tone changed into something more urgent. "Gar. With me. Now."
