A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1725 - 1725: The Pieces - Part 3

"Ah, yes," the master said. "And now we come to the stage of our first Tiger."

…

…

Queen Asabel had an endless searching to do in her heart, for the strength that she required to find her footing. News of war did her no favours, and it came eternally to warn her of fresh dangers to the ones that she loved.

A mere month, or perhaps a little longer, if she were to honesty keep track of the time, after Oliver Patrick had forced himself into a battle that the entire realm had called ridiculous – and won, despite it all – he now had another army marching his way, even mightier than the last, with great men at its head.

"He will be fine," Lancelot eternally reassured her, as if guessing that the reason for her sombre mood was that one thing, and that thing alone. Each time he said it to her, she found just a little bit of her old fire again so that she might glare at him.

"I have other problems on my mind, Lancelot," Asabel said. But just as quickly as it would come, that fire would fade, and her eyes would grow distant. "…They would just be far easier to deal with if this problem wasn't of the sort that it was. If I could somehow set that aside from my mind, then indeed, I might be better off."

Blackwell was busy. She knew as much. Since taking the crown from her father, they had been nothing but busy. It ought to have been a victory, but it didn't feel like a victory. The realm that she governed was eternally on fire. Her people, she knew, were filled with discontent. They warred against her overtaking in their hearts, and in actuality, inflicting further destruction on top of the destruction that Asabel and her troops had already inflicted.

Her family had been sent away. After their conversation in the throne room, there was no more talking to be done. The most important bridge that she had in her life was well and truly burned. She was alone in the world, like a single star in a void. They would not hear her words, nor could she dare to voice any to them, after all she had done to them.

She had chosen her path, and they had determined that she ought to follow it. They were transported, every member of her family, and their closest retainers, to a noble estate on the northern border, as far away from the Capital as they could manage. There, they were kept under watch, by a guard of Blackwell's chosen men. Prisoners is what they effectively were, and indeed, prisoners was what Asabel had made her family.

Lord Idris, it seemed, bore now an even larger burden than any other of her pillars. She knew Blackthorn to be content, now that he was at war, on a battlefield that he deemed mighty enough for himself. He knew that, with the giant army that was marching his way, though Oliver Patrick might have had the sense to feel fear, General Blackthorn could not have been happier than to be exactly where it was that he currently stood.

It was Lord Idris, however, that had to ensure coin still flowed, and that trade still prospered, despite the destruction that all those Generals were causing. His was an impossible task – but then, he was an impossible man. Every time Queen Asabel saw him, he looked further and further exhausted by the responsibilities that he bore.

"Are you managing, Lord Idris?" Queen Asabel asked of him in a worry, when he had come to report to her, in that very same throne room that she had seen the crown stripped from her father's head. He knelt before her, and gave his assurances.

"There is always a way, Queen Asabel, and when there is not, it is my duty as one of your pillars to create it for you," he said. That such a line, so grimly given, was the only reassurance he could give told Asabel of just how dire the situation was. She knitted her fingers together.

"Tell me more," she asked of him, though her heart was heavy, and she wished not hear more of anything. She wished curl up, under a tree, that she might bear the burden of the weighty crown that she'd put on her own head.

Lord Idris looked at her, his surprise mild, but his obedience certain. "…We are fighting to bring order to the cities, but it is no easy matter. It is not soldiers we need subdue, but merchants, my Queen, merchants and working men. We've trade with the Verna. Somehow, we are staying afloat off that. I have had Lord Blackwell put all his efforts into keeping it alive. But I fear the position is precarious. A single pipeline is all that is keeping us barely fed and barely watered, but if our enemy is cunning, they will remove that from us too."

"Does that seem a likely event, with Tavar fighting in the west?" Queen Asabel asked. "Can we move with more assurance, if we know that he will not be interfering anytime soon?"

"…I pray that to be so," Lord Idris said. "I pray it, but it will be naivety, I am afraid. General Tavar might be positioned to west, but his range reaches this entire country, not to mention the likes of Tiberius. They will sniff out the weakness of this realm that we have snatched for ourselves, and they will prove it to be a rotten chalice. I will gather a meeting of merchants in the Capital tonight. I will see them spoken to. I will use all the tricks and promises that I can, with your permission. If we can turn them. Gods, if we can turn half of them to our side… That would change things. They're influential men. Birds would be sent out. Their words would reach the other cities around us."