A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

He tore off the top of the envelope, but paused before dragging the letter out. He tried to scan his mind for people that seemed likely to have sent him a letter. And an unsealed letter at that. Even considering it heavily for a moment, he struggled to come to anything conclusive. He supposed that Minsiter Hod might, but then he doubted that Hod would send anyone letters.

Defeated, he pulled it out. The penmanship was refined. Each letter was delicate and artful. It wasn't a hand that Oliver immediately recognized. He didn't receive enough letters from anyone but Skullic for that.

"Dearest Oliver," it read. Merely that mode of introduction spun Oliver for a loop. Who would ever refer to him as 'dearest Oliver?'

"We have been unable to speak as freely as I think either of us would prefer. Or perhaps I am being presumptuous in that. I only know my own thoughts. Even my penning you a letter like this is inappropriate, but I think my counsel will look the other way should I send it without a seal."

"I wonder if you are angry with me for not speaking with you more often? I have not forgotten about you, as I hope you realize. I was glad to be able to grant a request from you, though it was something so minor. I only wish that we could speak freely, as we had once before… but I suppose that is a childish wish. I am no longer a student. I cannot be granted the same freedoms afforded to a child."

"Ah…" Oliver murmured. He had an inclining of who it was, but now he'd finally figured it out. She had not even signed her name at the bottom, but this was undoubtedly Queen Asabel, being both careful and thoughtful at once.

Oliver shook his head, hiding his smile. 'Foolish woman,' he thought to himself. 'You ought to be thinking of your station.'

"When you spoke in front of the High King, you left me terrified, and you left Lancelot exasperated. I think he thinks fondly of you now, though he does not care to admit it. It's quite amusing to watch him pick his words so carefully when he talks about you, as if he is unsure what he himself is thinking. Oh – I've lost my train of thought.

I meant to say, when you spoke up in front of the High King, I was quite sure you'd put yourself in trouble. I don't know how you manage to walk so close to the edge so often without falling off. Even the High King was unable to punish you directly for your boldness, but I do fear that he will get the last laugh. He can be a most petty man, Oliver, I pray that you realize that."

"The matter of your first campaign is my true reason for writing. I knew that if I were to send you anything, it would have to be now. The fact that I could not wish you luck in person is a grievance that I am forced to bear. I hope you will not hold it against me."

"When you spoke, and promised victory in my hall – I believed it. I must give you thanks for it. I do not know how you do it, Ser Patrick, but when you speak with such passion, even the most cold-blooded of nobles seem to be compelled in some sort of direction. My people are moving now, towards a true future.

The chokehold that my father holds on our trade routes is something that we believe will be shifted. When you claim victory in the borderlands against the Verna, know how much it will benefit us, and benefit me. I give you thanks in advance, and thanks again."

"I miss it terribly. I must move so carefully now. I must watch my every word, and most times, I need not even speak a word, for my Pillars are far more trustworthy in tongue than I. It is the path I have chosen, but I still dare to feel regret at times. Rightly, I should be dead. The Church of Claudia ought to have prosecuted me.

I live in borrowed time. The only reason I live it all is for the sake of our promise. I shall continue to fight, as hard as I can. I believe that one day, there will be a Kingdom of Justice where men like you are celebrated, rather than hounded. Where your father can be spoken of openly, and with pride. Until that day, I shall fight to the best of my abilities."

It was an awfully long letter when one compared it to Skullic's but, Oliver was unable to stop reading it. It felt very much like Asabel was there, and he was talking to her. She had a way of writing that sounded so much like her regular speech that it inclined Oliver towards nostalgia. He realized that he truly was beginning to miss the friendship that they'd shared.

Asabel was an incredibly unique woman, both ferocious and kind of heart.

Even as he thought such things, he knew better than to reach for them back. The fact that someone like Asabel was a Silver Queen inspired hope. Someone like her was needed in positions of power like that. Even if it meant that she struggled, and she suffered, Oliver hoped she would find the strength to continue her rule.

"You're already that justice that you aim to be," he murmured quietly to himself as he set the letter down.

Oliver hadn't expected for there to be thousands gathered already.

He knew that Blackwell's forces would be gathering from all across the country, but he thought that the majority were already positioned on the border, defending the castles that Blackwell had captured.

That assumption was quickly shattered as he was greeted by more tents than he had ever seen in his life. Tents, horses and hundreds of burning fires. It was very much like a mobile town, bigger even than Solgrim.