A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

He was young, probably of the same age as Karstly, but the two could not have been more different. Skullic knew his strategy well, but his honesty shone through still. He was a clumsy man, whilst somehow capable of pulling off delicate feats… Oliver really had to wonder, would he have dared do the same as the other man had? He did not think so.

But did that make him the weaker General for it, or was there some other way that Skullic could have spotted, with his unique strengths?

As of yet, he had received no word from any one of military inclination aside from Skullic, so there were few that could set his mind at ease. He did, however, receive a word from Queen Asabel. The letter had come on the same day as Skullic's, but he had neglected to open it.

He'd joked to himself in private that he was simply afraid of the golden seal… But in truth, he found himself afraid of the woman herself.

Their last meeting had been a strange one. Or more precisely, their last conversation alone had. It was likely only in Solgrim where that degree of privacy could have happened, though she'd still had ten guards walking a distance behind them, just out of earshot.

It was in Queen Asabel, that Oliver saw the effects of a reckless decision that he had not anticipated. He'd voiced an intent of proposal with Nila without premeditation, but even if he hadn't given it any thought, he had not expected that it would affect much more than her, and their immediate circle, and also his advisors, who would no doubt be exasperated by the news. But all that was tolerable.

Irritation was fine. He hadn't expected, instead, that it might wound.

"It does look like him," Asabel said, standing in front of the stone statue of Dominus Patrick. "From what I remember of him, anyway. I never got to truly talk with him, and I suppose I was young enough to have been called an infant at the time. But nevertheless, I have a feeling that I have seen such a man before. Just this statue has a degree of presence, do you not think, Oliver?"

"…It does," Oliver said.

"How was it to stand beside him? Was it overwhelming?" Queen Asabel asked. Her back was to him. It was almost like she was talking to the statue, rather than the young man that stood behind her.

"No, not always," Oliver said. "For the most part, you would think he was just an old man… Maybe an interesting old man. He did have that sort of aura to him. But you rarely felt danger, unless he intended you to do so. He seemed to know what effect he had on people. And he worked to keep it hidden."

"Quiet," Queen Asabel said. She looked to her left, towards the Black Mountains. "And this is where he chose to spend his time. In solitude, in Solgrim, barely interacting even with the villagers. It's so awfully strange. Men pursue greatness for all sorts of reasons… But they do it to have an effect on people, in some regard, would you not agree?

To be overwhelmingly strong, you measure yourself against others, and to stand higher in the hierarchy than the others beneath you. But Dominus rid himself of all that. He was content to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship without bearing witness to it… I think, perhaps that's why, my Uncle had such a high opinion of him.

It is a supernatural ability to disconnect oneself from the pressure of society to that degree."

"That got him in no shortage of trouble as well," Oliver said.

Asabel smiled at that. "Of course. For we are people, and if there is someone different, even if we do not mean to, we inadvertently seek to crush them, we are cruel creatures."

"…Were you aware of what you did, Asabel?" Oliver asked, quite suddenly. "When I was in the Lonely Mountains—"

"Whatever it is you think I did, I can assure you I had no part in. I am simply glad that it worked out for you, Oliver Patrick. You have made me, overwhelmingly, unreasonably proud. It is a pride that I have no right to, but I feel it nonetheless. The battlefield is a cruel place… If I could make it so that there was never a war fought again, I would.

However, perhaps it is the Pendragon in me that seeks to romanticise it, but I would like to appreciate it to a degree… what it takes for men to lay their lives down there… And… No. I'm not saying what I wish to at all," Asabel said.

"Asabel…" Oliver said. "That you would feel pride for me, you know that it honours me."

"I am a Queen of lands that you do not inhabit, Oliver," Asabel said. "I do not have a right to it."

"I gave you my sword," Oliver said. "I am your soldier. My victories are your victories."

"It was not your sword I wanted…" Asabel murmured. "You have wounded me, Ser Patrick. It is cruel of me to say… But will you allow me this cruelty, if I only whisper it? I knew that with my station, I could not hope for otherwise… But I dared cling to the smallest of hopes… I suppose I can only be happy that it is Nila Felder. This has been my first time meeting her.

I can see what might draw you to her. What does your love for her feel like, Oliver?"

"…You ask difficult questions, Asabel," Oliver said.

"Should it not be 'my Queen'?" Asabel said. "You have given me your sword, Oliver."

"I would not lose our friendship, if I could help it," Oliver said. "You've been good to me, Asabel. I'm far from being the perfect man, it seems. The world is more full of my enemies than friends. I would not lose another one."

"Can we be friends when you have given your loyalty to me? Can we be friends, when you owe your affection to another woman? What might she think, if we were to be too close?" Asabel said.

"Nila would not mind," Oliver said. "She would not force me under her thumb."