A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Behind him, there was a wise oxen that she had always thought Verdant to be. Overwhelmingly strong, calm, and thoughtful, but at times prone to a clumsiness, as if the being residing in his body was far larger than he.

Then there was the raven of the Blackthorns, the quiet and ever watchful Lasha Blackthorn. A woman that carried all the beauty of the night with her, even in the most intense lights of day.

Before both of them, he looked a giant. Before even the lioness of the dragon clan, Queen Asabel of the Pendragons, he looked not even the slightest bit inferior.

It was not mere appearance. The whole of the room seemed to give in their acknowledgement of him. That sigil that he wore on his surcoat, that image of the beast, and then all those other beasts that bowed to him – did they not understand the irony of it all, that she who was the huntress who pursued him?

The rarest of the creatures of the forest and field, Oliver Patrick was certain to be, and she'd quietly pursued him with no less intensity than she might have a white stag. Of course, she would never let her intentions show. She was a good huntress, after all – she took pride in that, to the point that she knew that she might have been arrogant.

The King of all Beasts, when he let his wildness stream past the noble mask that he fought to retain, that was what she imagined him to be.

Her heart stirred itself into a frenzy. Her breathing came far more rapidly than it ought to have if she wished to call herself healthy. Oliver stared her down, with gold-flecked eyes of his, and he left all of them waiting.

"You survived, Nila," he said. "And you protected it all."

His first words were for her. She did not think even he knew the significance of that. He was likely the only person in the room that did not. Only when he had said those words to her, did he seem to acknowledge the proper hierarchy of things, and did he turn to speak to those that likely ought to have been graced by his acknowledgement first.

"Queen Asabel, you answered my call, as you promised you would," Oliver said. "I have no doubt that the safety of my home is in large part due to your hasty response."

He kneeled before her. "I have nothing to offer you in response for the trouble that you have taken. For you to come yourself is a matter that I cannot overlook. Nor the bringing of your great General with you. Nothing I have, only my sword. My loyalty is yours, whenever you might require it," he said, holding his sheathed sword up towards her.

Asabel's eyes shone as she looked at him. She was no less intrigued by the sight of him as Nila was, Nila knew – and yet it was Nila that Oliver had dared to look at for so long. 'I am a fool to cling to that fact so readily… And yet..'

"Ser Patrick," she said, quite formally. Oliver had told Nila that when last he and Asabel spoke, they had been unable to speak directly. They had needed to speak through a third party, some knight whose name Nila forgot. She did not see any such knight now, and Blackthorn didn't have the tact to intervene properly. "You honour me with your blade, but you need not brandish it again.

You have declared once already that you are a friend of the Asabelian Crown – we moved for the sake of that friend. Is that not only natural?"

"Indeed, I must say that it is not, my Queen," Oliver said. "You would have been well within your logical right to refuse me. These are lands far away from your own, governed by the Emersons. Even if you dared to grace me with your assistance, there was no need to come alone."

"Ah, if that is what you thank me for, then I must deflect your gratitude. The journey here was for me alone. I had wished to see what it was you fought so valiantly to protect. I feel I have more to learn here than I do in the halls of my library," Asabel said. "Would that I could stay longer."

"You may stay as long as you like," Oliver said.

The Queen smiled at that. "For the opportunity, I thank you… but I am afraid other matters limit me, beyond your hospitality. Besides, it would seem that you have much work of your own to do. Your village was not spared its difficulties. They have endured much hardship. For our lack of swiftness, I can only apologize."

"Buildings, gates, walls and the like can all be replaced. It's the lives of my people that concern me. I came here in search of them. I find there to be too much quiet for me to rest easily," Oliver said.

"You shall find them," Asabel promised. "They are resting, on my orders. Orders thoughtlessly given, I think. I did not anticipate they would take it as quite so firm a command, and see themselves shut up in their houses… Alas, my inexperience at dealing with the small folk shines through."

Nila could see Oliver's shoulders slowly relax from relief. He even almost gave the smallest of smiles, as if amused that such a foolish reason had made him worry. But just as suddenly as it might have gone, the tautness in him was back again. He was primed like a bow ready to spring, even in knowing that they were safe.

"Rather than your sword, if you would offer us news, you would be of more value," General Blackthorn broke in, his impatience winning out. "Why are you here so soon, Ser Patrick? If you have deserted, no matter the circumstances, or your friendship to the Queen, you will be dealt with as an enemy to the Stormfront, I do swear it."

"There will be no need for that, General," Verdant broke in calmly. "My Lord has returned on General Blackwell's orders. Five thousand troops were returned home a week ago, led under General Rainwater. Captain Patrick was amongst them, in recognition of his contribution to the war effort."

"Hoh?" Blackthorn said. "And why might General Blackwell have been foolish enough to send five thousand of his men away before he has properly annexed the cities that he has acquired?"