Oliver hunched over the table, choking back the churning in his stomach as he slammed a mug of ale on the table. Despite it being called a feast before war, it was worse than any battle he had fought in; his mug was never empty as he was forced to drink over and over, the men of the Valley never giving him the opportunity to rest. Looking at Jeremy, he saw his squire wasn't even spared, collapsed over the table with a dazed look on his face and his stomach bulging double its usual size.
