"You know Lord Blackthorn will not turn you down," Lancelot said, "he is your Pillar now. A retainer. He would not refuse, despite personal preference."
"I am counting on it," Asabel said, "whilst I do not delight in forcing my retainers to do anything, on this occasion, I might allow my authority to slip over just a little bit, providing he isn't too heartily against it. If he were to be… I'm not sure I would wish to overrule him. The both of you understand that, don't you?"
"I do," Oliver said. "I'll be satisfied regardless. I understand that you have much going on as of late. I hesitate to put something else on your plate."
"I understand as well…" Blackthorn said slowly, though it was clear that she wouldn't be able to deal with refusal from the intensity of the look in her eye. This was her opportunity to prove herself in a military capacity before she came of age.
An opportunity that would otherwise be impossible for anyone else, if circumstances were not what they currently were, with the input of the High King creating leverage for all of them.
"No doubt this will cause another fracture in our relationship with the High King," Lancelot pointed out. "I hope it's worth it, my Lady."
"It is," Asabel assured him. "Oliver finally agreed to an official alliance, though I'm not sure what to make of the fact that he did it for a woman… Perhaps we've made a contract with something of a scoundrel?"
"You finally realize?" Lancelot said.
The Princess giggled. "I'm only joking. I know you did it out of loyalty for what she did for you in the Minister's Hall. I am pleased to see just how far that loyalty carries you."
Oliver was unable to do much more than nod, as he relaxed back into his chair. He hadn't even noticed that his hand had been balled up into a fist until then. The stress of negotiating, it seemed, still wore on him, no matter how amiable Asabel was. Perhaps bargaining was simply something that would always prove to be exhausting for him.
With that matter dealt with, the topics moved on to lighter things. They pointedly steered clear of the matter with the High King, now that they'd said all that there was to be said on it. It was too daunting a problem to really dwell.
They came back to Oliver's mission more than once, asking for more details, whether he'd gotten any injuries or the like. His responses weren't as descriptive as they seemed to want from him. He could feel the stares of his retainers behind his back, as they desperately urged him to speak more of it.
Speaking of his battles never excited Oliver as much as it seemed to for the listener. He was happy enough to summarise them, and say what had happened, but when they expected a story from him, he didn't have one. It seemed to leave them disappointed, but they soon recovered, and with Verdant's expert hand guiding things, the conversation didn't grow too stale.
They allowed Oliver his brief moments of silence, whilst encouraging Lasha to speak more for herself – which proved to be as challenging a task as one would expect.
It was odd watching it, in the moments of detachment. Seeing them all, almost as friends. Verdant and Lancelot in particular, the back-and-forth jabs that had seemed so harsh at first now seemed to be nothing but a noble's tug of war between people that knew each other well.
Asabel was part of that circle, but at the same time detached from it. She'd known the two of them as long as they'd known each other, but as a royal, she hadn't spent a particular amount of time with them. She seemed to enjoy taking part in the lighter conversations. Her exhaustion seemed to all but fade away.
Then there would be moments where she too was quiet, and amongst the exhaustion, Oliver could see a great sadness come to the fore.
He'd noted it the last time they'd met. There was no dismissing it. She might have been surviving aptly enough, but it did not change the fact that it was Oliver who had played a hand in saddling her with the great burden that she now carried.
He'd heard the estrangement that it had caused between her and her family. Only through a passing comment Verdant had delivered – he didn't know the specifics – but even that had sounded bad enough. It didn't bear thinking about how distressing the actual interactions might have been.
Just before he fell into a river of even deeper thought, Asabel seemed to remember their earlier agreement.
"Ah! I'd almost forgotten," she said, glancing at the clock. "Before it gets too late, I had better check up on Oliver, see if we can find out what's wrong with him."
"He got like that before, when he'd defeated the Boulder Crab," Verdant said. "An uncharacteristic exhaustion. To see it occur twice worries me."
"And it worries me," Asabel assured him. "Do you have a room, Verdant? It would be better for me to do it in private. It would also give me a chance to speak to him. Ah, it makes me miss the balcony of my room. I've only been away from it for an hour, but there are fewer places better for a private talk."
"I'm afraid I lack for a balcony," Verdant said apologetically, "though the study should suffice. I do believe that the fire has already been lit in there… is that right, Thomas?"
"Indeed, Master Idris," the retainer Thomas replied. "The fire was lit in there an hour ago in anticipation of any party needing a private conference. It should be well warmed by now."
"Ah, as ever, you see far further ahead than the rest of us, Verdant," Asabel said, almost sighing at having been predicted quite so easily.