A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1498 - 1498: VOLUME FOUR - PART 2 - THE WEIGHT OF WAR

VOLUME FOUR – PART 2

"Leave us," Queen Asabel said, her voice suddenly weak, as if the weight of her declaration had used up the last drop of energy that she had. She had to use a hand to steady herself on her chair. Her blonde hair fell down in front of her face for a moment, shrouding it like a curtain, hiding away her troubled expression.

"Leave us," she repeated, when Lord Idris and Blackthorn simply stared at her, stunned.

"You know we cannot, my Queen—" Lord Idris began.

"You will leave us regardless," Queen Asabel said impatiently. "If Oliver Patrick had wished to harm me, he would have done it a long time ago. We have made a decision tonight, gentlemen, of the likes that will change all our lives forever. What is etiquette in the face of that?"

"…Lord Blackthorn," Lord Idris said. "I think we ought to overlook this, just this once."

Queen Asabel's Minister of War growled, clenching his fist in his armour, every bit the black bear that his appearance made him seem. He glared at Oliver, as if it was somehow his fault. But with a tap on his shoulder, Lord Idris managed to lead him away, before he could go any further.

"We will not be able to overlook this for long, my Queen," Lord Idris told her. "In light of the circumstances, this might be the only instance in which we can overlook leaving you so vulnerable."

"Which is to say, you mean to tell me that I should talk until I am satisfied, for I will not get another chance?" Queen Asabel said.

"…Well, perhaps, my Queen," Lord Idris said. "But time is still of the essence. The soldiers outside will be left wondering."

"You will keep them entertained, then. I trust a man of your cunning shall have no trouble," Queen Asabel said.

Lord Idris gave a stiff bow, cupping his hand across his stomach, ruffling his shirt and waistcoat from the action. Then, he turned on his heel, with Lord Blackthorn imitating him, echoing his discontent.

"Was that wise?" Oliver asked her. "The people, they do love to gossip. If you give them half an opportunity, rumour will spread."

"Oh, come Oliver, all knows who you have tied your heart to," Queen Asabel said. "I don't think there's a safer unmarried man that I could be alone with."

"When you put it like that, it almost irritates me. I'd hate to be thought of as safe," Oliver said, with the smallest hint of a smile.

"Amusing, yes, you're ever so amusing. You've brought war to my doorstep, and you have the gall to appear before me with blood still on your armour," Queen Asabel said. "You're an even worse sort than you were at the Academy, Oliver. You're practically incorrigible."

"I do?" Oliver said, mildly alarmed. He'd taken efforts to make sure he was cleaned up before appearing in front of Queen Asabel. Naturally he'd done so in a hurry, but he didn't think it was enough of a hurry to have left himself bloodied. He'd even had the majority of his clothing changed, and a fresh surcoat thrown on top of it. There ought to have been no room for any left over blood. "Where?"

"Stop turning around, you fool," Queen Asabel said, her irritation giving way, and her hand holding him in place, dragging his hand into the torchlight. "I suppose you neglected to clean your gauntlets, did you?"

He spread apart his fingers, and revealed a good line of dark red dried blood running down the middle of his finger. His gauntlets were one of the few things that he'd left alone. He tutted at the oversight, especially now that his hands were thrust into the lights of the torch. It could not have been more obvious.

"I'll have that cleaned," Oliver said.

"It's too late now," Queen Asabel complained. "Do you realize quite how irritating it was, to hear you stand there, with your chest puffed out, pretending significance, when all the while, the torchlight was showing me how poorly you dress yourself? Without your retainers, I imagine you'd quite happily walk around in rags."

Oliver had to bite back his retort, for he knew, to a certain extent, she was certainly right. He much preferred the lack of care that came with clothes he knew weren't expensive. It was only out of a sense of duty that he continued to dress as a nobleman.

"And this is the man that I'm putting faith in," Queen Asabel sighed, looking well and truly exhausted then, when her humour faded, and she was left only with the memory of the war that they had to start together.

Her face was pale, and sweat sheened her forehead. Oliver saw her totter on her feet, and with a sudden spark of worry, he reached out an arm to steady her, fearful that she might faint.

She gave him a weak smile of appreciation. "I would not have… fallen," she said, but she didn't make a very convincing showing of that statement.

"You've pushed yourself too much," Oliver said. "You went against your nature in this. Perhaps we shouldn't have…" He said, feeling a sudden spark of regret. "This war will tear your heart apart, Asabel. No word has yet been spread. We can take it back. I should not burden you with this – another way can be found."

Her eyes flashed with indignance, and light returned to them, temporarily, fuelled by anger. She pushed him away, and steadied herself on her feet. "Do not talk down to me, Oliver. I have my duty. You came to me, and you asked it of me, because you thought I could manage it, did you not? Or was that mere wishful thinking on my part."

Oliver slowly shook his head. "You're a strong woman, Asabel. But your kindness is just as strong. The burden you bear in this war will be greater than any of ours. It goes against your very nature."

"My uncle had to bear similar burdens," Asabel said, standing herself up straighter, doing all she could to rid herself of her fragile state. "He did not enjoy war, or killing. I remember the troubled look he always had on his face, even better than I remember the man himself. He would not shy away from this – it is my duty to see justice for him."