A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 672: Lady Blackthorn and the Pendragon Princess - Part 7

"Certain assumptions can be made," Verdant said, allowing himself a small smile. "Please, use the room at your convenience, Princess. It has yet to be furnished to the sort of standard that would suit royalty, but you should find it accommodating nonetheless."

"If you thought that I would be offended by minor lackings you wouldn’t have mentioned it at all," Asabel pointed out as she stood up. "Shall we go, Oliver?"

"I suppose so," Oliver agreed.

"Don’t be so eager," Asabel teased. "To think that you would express such reluctance at spending time in my company."

Oliver made no move to reply. Lancelot followed suit as Oliver stood up. Asabel looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I think I should be quite safe, Lancelot."

"Regardless. I shall at least stand by the door, if you would permit it. I doubt you will allow me inside with you, despite the damage it might do to your reputation," Lancelot said. Discover more stories at novelbuddy

"I would think the damage has already been done," Asabel said. "This is no different than me talking with Oliver on the balcony. You need not get so worked up about it."

"It’s quite different," Lancelot said. "On the balcony, you were in view of the rest of us. Here, I suppose, you intend to be enclosed in a room with him. Patrick or not, being alone with a boy, being the age you are, and the position you are in… It is ill-advised. We need not give extra ground for rumours to be spread."

"Lancelot," Asabel said, quite seriously. "If rumours of such minor affairs were to begin to circulate outside of these walls, then it would gain us more than it would lose it. We would simply know that someone amongst our present company cannot be trusted. With the ambitions we have, that is quite an important thing to know, is it not?"

"…" Lancelot inclined his head, making a concession, though it was evident from his face that he was none too pleased about it. "I shall position myself two doors down then, Princess. I imagine that is enough privacy for you?"

"Indeed, that shall do," Asabel said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do not look so glump, dear knight. It is not that I intend to hide anything from you. It is simply rare that I have the occasion to speak with another person as another person, without my retainers affecting the things that they might otherwise say."

"I understand, my Lady," Lancelot assured her.

"Good," Asabel said, "I shall make it up to you."

"You need not," Lancelot said quickly, frowning at the suggestion. "I am not some child to be distracted with rewards. My loyalty is yours always, regardless of the prospect of being rewarded. No, a reward would sully what it is that I do."

"Nevertheless," Asabel said, giving him another placating pat, before motioning with her head for Oliver to follow. He’d stood a way off as they spoke. As poor as he often was at a noble’s socialising, he could at least understand when to avoid conversations that he should have no part in. "Come, Oliver. Let us have you seen to."

"Show them the way, if you would, Thomas," Verdant said, remaining seated. Ordinarily, he would have leapt to his feet at the opportunity to escort a royal, but here, it was more respectable to keep his distance. The subtleties of etiquette rarely escaped the man.

"As you wish, Master Idris," the tall retainer said, bowing towards his employer. He was the calibre of retainer that even royalty likely would not sniff at. Despite his yellow shirt, he seemed to have the aura and cadence of a noble. A handsome, and polite man – more than fitting to be Verdant’s Head of Household.

Of course, Oliver’s own retainers weren’t quite up to that standard. Not yet. They hadn’t been explicitly preparing for retainership – not for a few years at least. Despite that, watching Thomas, Oliver thought that Jorah likely could have severed that role just as well. If the youth carried himself just slightly differently, he’d no doubt give any onlooker a similar impression of classiness.

As Oliver left, those same retainers hesitated, wondering whether they should follow. They looked to Verdant for directions, from their position by the wall of the room. The Idris man caught the look and shook his head quietly at them, indicating that they stayed.

Quietly, Thomas closed the door after them, even that simple act as refined as one could make it. The very epitome of grace and purpose. The bustling maids quickly made their way as they came. They seemed surprised enough to see them emerge, but it was an emotion that they covered up with a quick bow and hurried steps in the opposite directions.

"This way, if you would," Thomas said, inclining his hand down the corridor. It was Oliver’s first time seeing this part of Verdant’s accommodation as well. After all, today was the first time that the ex-priest had invited him in since receiving it. He marvelled at just how big it was.

He knew that it was two Lord’s quarters joined together… But to think that the Lord’s themselves lived in such a fashion.

"You’ve done well with the place in such a short amount of time, Thomas," Oliver called out to the man, admiring even the intricate details in the wallpaper. It wasn’t just flat, but textured, with the image of several different trees layered over a background of green. If Oliver had reached a handout, he could have felt their shape.

Being that he was in the company that he was in, though, Oliver restrained himself.

"Oh, you mistake us, Ser Patrick," Thomas said politely. He had stiffened the moment that Oliver had spoken to him. A rare display of miscomposure in an otherwise high-refined individual. He covered it up with an excess of politeness. "Much of this has yet to be redone. We have only yet replaced that which was in urgent need, after years of disuse.

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The rest – such as that wallpaper – we were able to clean, so that we could make use of it in a hurry."