He was sure his men could feel the tension too, even if they did not entirely understand it. It affected their movements, the way they were. Oliver knew he would be called mad for suggesting it by any of his contemporaries, but he fancied that, there was meaning in even the way the men had their helmets fall to the floor. They had not tossed them particularly high, they were just patting them up and down in their hands mindlessly. It was not a skillful endeavour. But two had dropped them in quick succession, in the same set of moments that especially obvious moves had been presented by Tavar. It was as if some force unknown had set to make them defenseless.
"I'm definitely going mad," Oliver said to himself, but he was content for madness for now, if it meant that he had something to do.
