"You put on a good meal, Lord Pendragon," he said.
The old King spared him no sympathies, and immediately thrust his attempt at building a bridge aside. "My wife saw it organized, and my servants saw it cooked. I had no part in it," he said, as coolly as one might expect for a man in his position.
"...I might have a third plate, then," Oliver said, immediately losing his dignified edge, and retreating towards that which he knew best – the eternal respect that he had for food, and the eternal rumbling in his belly. Somewhat sullenly did he nod when the servants asked if he'd like an apple sauce to go with his potatoes and meat this time. They seemed almost disgusted that he could eat so much of the same flavour.
Seeing him indulge to that degree, even the hostile party of the Pendragon King was unable to refrain from comment. "Did you not eat on your way here, King Patrick?" He asked.
