"You're not much older than I," Asabel said. "Though I appreciate your sweetness, and your evident concern for me, we cannot have you butting heads with Oliver every time you meet. You speak of youth and burdens, but he is the youngest of all three of us."
"He doesn't bear the weight of a fledgling Kingdom, though, my Lady," Lancelot said. "Strong though he may be – and I acknowledge such strength. I admit such a thing now, when I was unable to in the weeks before. Yes, it is unnatural to go as far as he has in matters of the sword at such a young age, but it is one thing to take lives and another thing to be responsible for them."
"I'd agree with Lancelot on this one, Princess," Oliver said with a faltering smile. "I can't say I envy your position. You'll be the ruler of thousands now, won't you?"
"Tens of thousands," Lancelot corrected. "And when she fully inherits, it will be hundreds of thousands."
"And I'm struggling with just a handful of retainers," Oliver said.
Asabel sighed. "From that expression on your face, Oliver, you seem to be truly insisting on blaming yourself. For a man that the student body views as a marauding man of murder, you've too much kindness to you."
To be called out so obviously was enough to make Oliver look away. It was never pleasant to be seen through so easily.
"Nonetheless," Asabel said, "talk of friendship, it would mean much to me if you would consider it. I believe in what Oliver Patrick can bring to the Stormfront, just as Minister Hod does. I made my decision based on that. I determined that to have Oliver Patrick as an ally was worth more than three years extra spent on preparation."
She sounded firm as she said that, determined. There was a ferocity to her when she hardened her expression. She could be quite the frightening woman when she wanted to be.
"Would I be correct in suggesting that we all share a common opposition?" Verdant said, as he glanced around. Lancelot and Asabel seemed to know what he was about to say before he even set it. Asabel gave him a nod, confirming that he was allowed to speak it aloud, even in the presence of so many retainers. She seemed to have that much faith in her servants. "The High King," he said.
Lancelot stiffened, even though he'd expected it, to hear the High King's title tossed around so freely was enough to make a man feel the cold all the way in the tips of his fingers. To even suggest in euphemistic passing that one would be going against the High King in any form – that was simply not done. It was too dangerous.
To declare it as openly as Verdant did, it was more than enough to make a man feel naked, even in his own room.
"I trust every person in this room," Asabel assured him. "You might have noticed our numbers are fewer than they were before. I had a feeling that conversation might shift in this direction, but I did not assume it would be you who led it here, Verdant."
"I fear my Lord might be affecting me," Verdant said with a smile, "I am beginning to see the worth in a certain amount of boldness. No doubt my father would not approve."
"One Farley Idris is more than enough for any continent," the Princess said good-naturedly. "I would rather see you continue to be the wise-cracking priest that we know you to be, even if your clothes change. Ah, but that sounds like I am forbidding you from changing… How does one say that properly? To dismiss the doubts from a person's mind, so that they continue acting themselves?"
"I have no such doubts, Princess, though I'm sure you're aware enough of that for you to feel so comfortable with addressing the abstraction… As far as the question itself, I suppose one had only need respond positively when they dare to be themselves, no?" Verdant said.
"And your wisdom has not left you, even with a change of clothes," Asabel said with a giggle. "I am pleased I asked. I feel wiser for it already… Yes, indeed. The High King and I intend to take part in the same race, though I doubt he considers me as a fellow competitor."
"You intend to go for the High Crown, then?" Verdant pressed. "I had thought you seemed more ambitious than you let on. What are your intentions with it?"
As they spoke their noble euphemisms, it was all Oliver could do to keep up at times. He thought he understood most of it, but the second the High Crown was mentioned, he felt his eyebrow twitch in surprise.
"That is my intention," Asabel said firmly, noticing that Oliver was having difficulty following along. Even though it was Verdant that asked, it was Oliver that she said it to. "With the death of my Uncle Arthur, the cycle of succession has passed the Pendragons. I intend to change that."
"With war?" Oliver asked. He saw Lancelot stiffen.
"I do not intend for war," Asabel said. "As I've mentioned before, I am not fond of it. But I know in my heart that Arthur Pendragon was meant to be High King. If not for certain… factors… he would have been. I intend to change that course of history. I cannot bring him back from the dead, but I can ensure that his ideals reach the throne."
"Ah, yes," Oliver said, recalling something that Dominus had said. "The High King sent Arthur to kill the Pandora Goblin, didn't he?"
"You knew?" Asabel asked, gasping. "The failure of the Pandora conquest was ordered a state secret – it was to be unmentionable. To bring it up now is treason in itself. Your father… Of course, of course, your father would have told you…"
"I've always wondered, Patrick, how did your father manage to survive that battle with Pandora Goblin?" Lancelot asked. News of how Dominus had died – Oliver knew – had not extended too far. Few knew just how poor a condition he'd been when he fought the Fragment of Ingolsol. Fewer still knew that it was Pandora Poison that had caused it.