1292: A Different Battlefield – Part 9 1292: A Different Battlefield – Part 9 He was young, probably of the sa age as Karstly, but the two could not have been more different.
Skullic knew his strategy well, but his honesty shone through still.
He was a clumsy man, whilst sohow capable of pulling off delicate feats… Oliver really had to wonder, would he have dared do the sa as the other man had?
He did not think so.
But did that make him the weaker General for it, or was there so other way that Skullic could have spotted, with his unique strengths?
As of yet, he had received no word from any one of military inclination aside from Skullic, so there were few that could set his mind at ease.
He did, however, receive a word from Queen Asabel.
The letter had co on the sa day as Skullic’s, but he had neglected to open it.
He’d joked to himself in private that he was simply afraid of the golden seal… But in truth, he found himself afraid of the woman herself.
Their last eting had been a strange one.
Or more precisely, their last conversation alone had.
It was likely only in Solgrim where that degree of privacy could have happened, though she’d still had ten guards walking a distance behind them, just out of earshot.
It was in Queen Asabel, that Oliver saw the effects of a reckless decision that he had not anticipated.
He’d voiced an intent of proposal with Nila without preditation, but even if he hadn’t given it any thought, he had not expected that it would affect much more than her, and their imdiate circle, and also his advisors, who would no doubt be exasperated by the news.
But all that was tolerable.
Irritation was fine.
He hadn’t expected, instead, that it might wound.
“It does look like him,” Asabel said, standing in front of the stone statue of Dominus Patrick.
“From what I rember of him, anyway.
I never got to truly talk with him, and I suppose I was young enough to have been called an infant at the ti.
But nevertheless, I have a feeling that I have seen such a man before.
Just this statue has a degree of presence, do you not think, Oliver?” “…It does,” Oliver said.
“How was it to stand beside him?
Was it overwhelming?” Queen Asabel asked.
Her back was to him.
It was almost like she was talking to the statue, rather than the young man that stood behind her.
“No, not always,” Oliver said.
“For the most part, you would think he was just an old man… Maybe an interesting old man.
He did have that sort of aura to him.
But you rarely felt danger, unless he intended you to do so.
He seed to know what effect he had on people.
And he worked to keep it hidden.” “Quiet,” Queen Asabel said.
She looked to her left, towards the Black Mountains.
“And this is where he chose to spend his ti.
In solitude, in Solgrim, barely interacting even with the villagers.
It’s so awfully strange.
n pursue greatness for all sorts of reasons… But they do it to have an effect on people, in so regard, would you not agree?
To be overwhelmingly strong, you asure yourself against others, and to stand higher in the hierarchy than the others beneath you.
But Dominus rid himself of all that.
He was content to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship without bearing witness to it… I think, perhaps that’s why, my Uncle had such a high opinion of him.
It is a supernatural ability to disconnect oneself from the pressure of society to that degree.” “That got him in no shortage of trouble as well,” Oliver said.
Asabel smiled at that.
“Of course.
For we are people, and if there is soone different, even if we do not an to, we inadvertently seek to crush them, we are cruel creatures.” “…Were you aware of what you did, Asabel?” Oliver asked, quite suddenly.
“When I was in the Lonely Mountains—” “Whatever it is you think I did, I can assure you I had no part in.
I am simply glad that it worked out for you, Oliver Patrick.
You have made , overwhelmingly, unreasonably proud.
It is a pride that I have no right to, but I feel it nonetheless.
The battlefield is a cruel place… If I could make it so that there was never a war fought again, I would.
However, perhaps it is the Pendragon in that seeks to romanticise it, but I would like to appreciate it to a degree… what it takes for n to lay their lives down there… And… No.
I’m not saying what I wish to at all,” Asabel said.
“Asabel…” Oliver said.
“That you would feel pride for , you know that it honours .” “I am a Queen of lands that you do not inhabit, Oliver,” Asabel said.
“I do not have a right to it.” “I gave you my sword,” Oliver said.
“I am your soldier.
My victories are your victories.” “It was not your sword I wanted…” Asabel murmured.
“You have wounded , Ser Patrick.
It is cruel of to say… But will you allow this cruelty, if I only whisper it?
I knew that with my station, I could not hope for otherwise… But I dared cling to the smallest of hopes… I suppose I can only be happy that it is Nila Felder.
This has been my first ti eting her.
I can see what might draw you to her.
What does your love for her feel like, Oliver?” “…You ask difficult questions, Asabel,” Oliver said.
“Should it not be ‘my Queen’?” Asabel said.
“You have given your sword, Oliver.” “I would not lose our friendship, if I could help it,” Oliver said.
“You’ve been good to , Asabel.
I’m far from being the perfect man, it seems.
The world is more full of my enemies than friends.
I would not lose another one.” “Can we be friends when you have given your loyalty to ?
Can we be friends, when you owe your affection to another woman?
What might she think, if we were to be too close?” Asabel said.
“Nila would not mind,” Oliver said.
“She would not force under her thumb.”
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