Chapitre 1439: Muddy Greatness - Part 8

"Indeed," Oliver said. "We can stick to the plan."

"Ehhh, Ser Patrick," came a voice of interruption. "Do excuse me again, Ser. But that one there – who just got through this round – keeps shouting for you."

One of the Blackwell soldiers called out to him, a strained look on his face. Oliver turned to see who he was pointed at, only to see a man covered in filth that he did not recognize, making loud proclamations from inside the arena.

"Another madman that you've collected?" Greeves asked.

"Madman, is it…" Oliver pondered. Only with that thought in his mind did he realize who it was that he was staring at. He was the only man on the field of Captains that had not been wearing armour. He was still dressed in his ragged peasant dress, though he was covered in even more mud than before. "He made it through, did he?" Oliver asked the Blackwell man.

"He did, Ser," the man responded in the affirmative.