"Three years this promise has been in the making. I promised to give him those n when the ti ca, yet he cos to , having secured those n himself and having made it to the Third Boundary long before our agreed-upon ti," General Blackwell said. "What pleasure it will bring to handle such a powerful piece. Verna is in for a shock."
…
…
Oliver had spent nearly a week absent from the Academy. It was not sothing that he was accustod to doing, though sotis, if the mission from the High King extended too long, it did end up being that way.
His professors had learned to be forgiving, in light of his unusual circumstances, but even they were no doubt a little sceptical given this prolonged absence, knowing full well that it was not yet the ti of the month for when Oliver's missions usually occurred.
He did indeed feel rather bad leaving them in the dark on the matter, but he figured that a few of them, Volguard included, had likely already guessed the sa thing that Skullic had. He hoped that the strategist would not hold it against him. Oliver found him to be an increasingly good man. He seed to care for Oliver's academia far beyond re strategy.
Over the years, he had ensured that Oliver's reading and writing had finally caught up to his peers as well.
Now, instead of studying for that man's final examinations, to et those expectations that Volguard had long held for him, Oliver was on his way to the Capital, to declare himself for campaign, even before the High King could.
Would Volguard understand such a decision? Or would he feel the disappointnt of wasted years? Oliver didn't know. He hoped that the man would not see it as a waste, for he did not. Passing Scroll or not, Oliver valued the skills that he'd learnt under the man. He'd made him as good as a nobleman as Oliver could be, and he'd made him a more than competent strategist besides.
Once more, he was rattling in a carriage. They'd stayed a day at Valence Castle, treated to luxurious rooms of the best sort that Asabel could offer. She made them seem like guests of high honour indeed. Their every need was seen to, and they were continually urged to stay longer.
But, with Blackwell arriving back from campaign, a longer stay would have been impossible. Lombard had already gone to et the man. The General would proceed towards the Capital with a hundred of his highest n, on horseback, in a ceremonial display of return. He'd kneel before the High King, and detail all that his campaign these past three years had achieved – or not achieved.
In the place of Lombard, there was Tolsey, who had the role of joining the two parties up again, once they'd made it to the Capital.
Queen Asabel was set to follow along behind them with a party of her own, but she would be at least half a day away at best.
"We're going to be made to wait at a checkpoint," Lady Blackthorn predicted, her arms folded. She'd grown accustod to the particularly harsh treatnt that was directed Oliver's way by particular fractions, and her distaste for it had almost exceeded Oliver's.
"I suppose so," Oliver said. "If they don't let us through, that is."
"It will only be half a day of waiting, if that does happen," Tolsey said lightly. "It should not affect us too much."
"That they've let us through one gate already is a miracle, but from the way those soldiers glared at us, I doubt they shall let us through another," Lady Blackthorn said. The years gave her the confidence she needed to speak more freely, though there were still often tis when she would go silent for hours on end, not seeming to realize that her comnts were expected.
"Then we break our way through," Oliver suggested wryly, quite clearly joking, but Lady Blackthorn responded to that joke with the readiness of a soldier receiving an order from her General.
"Very well. If we are swift, we could get the job done within the span of minutes," Lady Blackthorn said, nodding.
"W-wait, you're not serious..?" Tolsey was left with his mouth flapping open, as he held up his hand, trying to stop the jokes of Oliver and the particularly dangerous woman that he'd gotten riled up.
"Lasha, do calm yourself," Verdant chided her. "You've been full of energy ever since we left the Queen. Well, before that even… I know I am not one to talk, but our display before the throne was perhaps a little much."
"I agree," Oliver said. "We overstepped a line. Sohow, I don't regret it though. We all said what we wanted to say, didn't we? Given the circumstances, with the change that this campaign is likely to bring to all of us, that's the least we could do, isn't it?"
"That you were able to speak as such before a Queen still sends shivers down my spine," Tolsey complained. He'd kept quiet for the whole length of the audience, but it had been an anxious silence, as he willed his comrades to follow suit, feeling very much like he was wandering ever closer to the executioner's block.
"She is a good woman," Oliver declared resolutely. "I would not have spoken as such without her encouragent. She still seems to rember who I am."
"Who could forget that in a heartbeat?" Tolsey said. "It has been years since I last saw you, and your face has changed. There's the handsoness of a man to you now. I couldn't possibly recognize you on appearance alone, but the second you spoke up in passion, you were that sa boy that was dragged into the Captain's tent, fighting furiously against sothing far above his position."
As Tolsey spoke, he must have detected the curious looks being shot his way from Verdant and Blackthorn, as they silently willed him to say more, for he suddenly grew self-conscious, and blushed. "Ah, but this is not the ti or place for such things. We must move forward."
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