A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"…We know we aren't allowed to come," Pauline said, meekly. "We merely wished to see our Lady this far, if you would permit it." Oliver's gaze softened. "Very well. Lady Blackthorn – are you quite certain you wish to come? I've already explained to you the risks that are expected to be involved. If Skullic is right, then this mission has been set up with my defeat very well in mind. We would be betting against the master strategists of the Capital by fighting nonetheless. Does that not bother you?" He dared to say all that, in the open corridor. It was early enough that there was no one around but them – yet it was still an alarmingly daring thing to say openly. Treasonous, even. Oliver cared not, though. Whatever corner they backed him into could be no worse than where he currently stood. He noticed how, when he laid it in those terms, the Princess flinched, as though she had been struck. Lancelot eyed her worriedly, and with a delicate hand, the Princess sought to compose herself, not interrupting. "I understand," Lady Blackthorn said, her voice as meek as ever. She was armoured like a warrior, lightly, with her rapier at her side, a breastplate on her chest, and a helmet on her head, yet she looked more like a beautiful court lady than a battlefield soldier. That was, until, she clenched her fist, and the look on her face changed completely, her gauntlets clinking from the motion. "That is why, I absolutely shall not lose. They still continue to torment you, after all they've done – that is unforgivable. I am allowed to the battlefield for the first time because of you – I shall repay you for that." "You people…" Oliver said, feeling an arrow stab into his chest. "All of you have already done far more for me than I could ever repay you for. How can you still feel a sense of duty? Did you ask your father for permission, as I told you to, Lasha?" "I did…" She said, the vigour leaving her as she remembered the experience. "He gave his permission… sort of." Oliver didn't like the sound of that. He disliked even less the fact that the girl kept averting her eyes, avoiding looking straight at him. Clearly, there had been some sort of extra condition placed in there, and Oliver had a feeling if he ever saw the Lord Blackthorn again, he wouldn't exactly be full of pleasant words for him. "Very well, then," Oliver said, retaining his sigh. He felt like he'd be sighing an awful lot lately. "Time is of the essence, I suppose, so I shall press you no further, out of respect for your spirit." He said that, but in truth, it was another burden on his plate. He'd been willing to accept responsibility for her when the odds hadn't been quite so against them, but now that they were meant to be sent towards a slaughtering ground, it didn't feel quite so good. "I shall wait for you outside," Lady Blackthorn said, giving him a military salute. It was apparently her attempt at being considerate, given that Princess Asabel had come to see him off. "I shall do the same, my Lord," Verdant said. "I'll have the horses brought round to the front ready and waiting for you – so do not be in a rush." "Thank you, Verdant," Oliver said. The man simply dipped his head, a faint echo of the militarism that Blackthorn exhibited. Evidently, he was less familiar with it. After all, the Idris House was far less militaristic than the Blackthorn House. The footsteps of the two retreated off behind him, and Oliver listened to them go, faced with the Pendragon entourage alone. He tried to look Asabel in the eye, but instead, he found himself looking just off to the side of her, judging all that around her. At the very least, she seemed to be stronger than he'd last seen her, and her retainers seemed to be unified and resolute in their purpose, despite the early hour. "Would you care to come inside?" Oliver asked, gesturing to his room. He wasn't sure whether it was a necessary consideration, but given the topics that he and Asabel had shared during their last meetings, he made the offer anyway, lest she require the privacy. "That would be most pleasant, thank you," Asabel said, giving her formal approval. "Lancelot, will you guard the door for me?" "As you wish, my Lady," Lancelot said, offering none of his usual protests. Oliver thought that he spied an ounce of pity for him in those blue eyes. He allowed the Princess into the room first, and then went in after her, gently closing the door behind them. There wasn't really anywhere to sit, and neither of them seemed comfortable enough to want to. Now that she was standing right in front of him, Asabel didn't seem as though she had anything to say. Instead, her eyes were darting all over, looking furtively to different corners of the room, as she fiddled with her fingers. "The armour you sent me – I should thank you for it," Oliver said. "It's a beautiful piece. I'm sure it will be of much assistance in the battles to come." "You have already sent me a letter thanking me," Asabel said, smiling a small smile. "You need not thank me twice. I can only hope that it serves to protect you properly. Is it true what you said to Lady Blackthorn, about the Royal Strategists engineering this plan, with your death as the assured result?" "So I've been told. Minister Hod and General Skullic seem to think it's true," Oliver said. The girl seemed thoroughly defeated by that fact. She bit her lip. Any traces of command that she'd had before the door had closed were slowly fading away. It was impossible for her to hide her distress. "Have you—No, of course, there's nothing that I can say that Minister Hod or General Skullic have not already thought of… Despite all that, do either of them believe there is a chance at victory?"