Oliver stared up at the rising sun, the distant wails of injured men carried by the wind. Looking down, he saw Jeremy blankly staring ahead, his cheek clean and swollen, struggling to drink the wine he had been given. Although hours had passed since his kill, Oliver could still see that he was affected by it.
"This is war, Jeremy," Oliver said with a rough voice, looking down at the young boy. Resting a hand on his dirty hair, he nodded at a man who limped past, groaning in pain, getting a nod back, "If you want to be a knight, this is what it means. And this wasn't even a battle but a raid."
"Ser. I... I..."
