A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"And, of course, it is always a great pleasure to see Your Majesty," Queen Asabel said, favouring him with a smile, just as Lord Blackwell caught her eye, and began to kneel before her.

"Well, you ought to visit more often!" The High King said. "You ought to – you are always welcome, the fair creature that you are. Your father would no doubt be pleased if we were to spend more time together."

It was a sentence laden with implications. Another tool expertly crafted to provoke. Queen Asabel took it, wearing the same smile – though it was faltering – and a nod, and she turned her attention to the man in front of her.

"Lord Blackwell," she said. "It is good to see you well."

"And you, my Queen," Lord Blackwell said. Something about the way he said it almost sounded like a sigh of relief, as if he was glad to finally be able to speak honestly. "I kneel before you with a rather selfish request. I wonder if I might trouble you with it?"

"Please, speak," the Queen said encouragingly. They were forced to put on the performative farce for the sake of the High King, but for all the other people there, it did seem like the first time that such a discussion had taken place between the two parties.

"Would you be able to spare soldiers for us, my Queen?" Lord Blackwell asked. "I fear for the results that we will be able to produce otherwise."

"I would very much like to spare you them, Lord Blackwell," Queen Asabel said, "but I must consult with my Pillar of War before I make such a decision… He ought to know more than I how much we can spare." She looked pointedly to Lord Blackthorn standing a few steps behind her as she said it.

Her gaze interrupted the glaring match that Blackthorn was having with the top of the kneeling Blackwell's head. He folded his arms at her interruption, and made a show of sternness.

The tension between the two cousin Houses was palpable, even from a distance away. The two men were so similar, yet so different. Oliver thought that there was a hint more of civility in the lighter-haired Blackwell, whilst Blackthorn seemed to be a bundle of aggressive instincts, like a bull that was just barely holding back on his impulse to charge.

The tension might have continued longer if Lord Idris was not there to lean over and whisper something to him, reminding him of the decision that they'd already reached.

"Three thousand," Lord Blackthorn said. "We can spare that many, Your Majesty."

"Three thousand?" The High King interrupted in a loud booming voice. "Why, Blackwell, that's splendid news! That's so many men. All on a young Princesses' generosity. Why, she must be prepared to run herself into the ground, giving away so many men so easily."

"I regret that I cannot send you more," Queen Asabel said, bending her knees, so that she could look the General better in the eyes as he knelt. "We are allies in this. If this assistance proves insufficient, please write to me. We shall work something out. This campaign shall be a success."

"Allies?" The High King said, tilting his head. "…Allies..? That is rather bold, Princess, is it not? This is a decree from the Crown. For you to declare that you are allies with it… I wonder, are you attempting to secure your own reward on our investment?"

It was the honest accusation of a slighted fool. The Princess flinched as she was put on the spot so suddenly. All trace of jovialness from the High King was gone. He looked very much the image of a child whose toy had been stolen. His expression was one of accusation. Justus, that Fourth Boundary bodyguard, mirrored him, as he stared the young Queen down.

"Please be assured, my King, we have no wish to interfere with your investments," Asabel said. "When I speak of an alliance, I speak of my duty to hold the border and of Lord Blackwell's duty to expand it. We are allies in similar purpose, are we not?"

The High King made her sit in the silence left by those words for a good few long moments before his expression broke, and he smiled a childish smile. "Oh, quite right. If that's the case, Princess, then I have no objectives. I'm simply happy to see this issue resolved. Oh, with so many men, there can be no doubt that the campaign shall be a success this time around. Are you contented, Lord Blackwell?"

"…Queen Asabel has been most generous," Lord Blackwell said. "However, my Lord, if I were to make promises for our success, I would wish for an extra five thousand men. That is, another two thousand on top of Queen Asabel's three thousand."

No man could bring himself to respect a beggar. The type of man to lower himself into the filth, and wail out to passersby for coin. They pitied such men, but none respected them. Most simply felt distaste.

It was that position that the High King attempted to force the decorated Lord Blackwell into, and it was in that position that, somehow, Lord Blackwell managed to show a tremendous amount of dignity in.

He stated what he wanted without lowering himself to the position of a beggar. Though he was kneeling, he didn't speak like a subdued man ought to. This was a man of immense pride and competence. Oliver found himself respecting the man for carrying himself how he was, despite the position he was in. Oliver knew full well that if he was forced to do the same, he would have given himself over to anger.

"More?" The High King said, raising his eyebrow. "Lord Blackwell, you still want more? I cannot believe it… It must be true! Oh, goodness. We ought to get someone else to lead, if you are this weakened. You wish for a further two thousand men?

From where can we get such men? They will not appear merely out of thin air. Justus? From where?"