A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 673: Lady Blackthorn and the Pendragon Princess - Part 8

"You’ll be getting rid of it, then?" Oliver asked.

"In time," Thomas said, "Master Idris has already made plans to see it replaced with something else. The workmen should begin to arrive one week hence."

"Seems a terrible waste," Oliver noted. "It looks fine enough to me. Rich, even."

"…It does," Thomas agreed. "If you were to tell that to Master Idris, he would no doubt keep it to be in line with your tastes. But what he does is no less than is expected of him by tradition. A Lord must put his own stamp on his quarters. It is an opportunity to display his artistic taste."

"Ah," Oliver said, a bit disappointed by it. "It’s another one of those traditions, is it?" For the sake of tradition, they would be incurring such waste. The amount of coin spent on the renovation of these chambers alone – it was the type of thing that could change the lives of a whole village in winter, yet the nobles were bound by their traditions to spend it so recklessly.

Asabel giggled as she listened in on them. "You look so hurt by the change of mere wallpaper, Oliver. It’s incredibly endearing."

"A lack of sense," Lancelot corrected. "This is the way things are. Traditions arise for a reason. It’s clear that despite that, the Patrick boy is looking down on them."

"If we forget the reasons for the tradition, is that not just as perilous as forgetting the tradition itself?" Asabel pointed out. "Though it might seem strange to you and I, what Oliver says is a valid point. This tradition of destroying what need not be destroyed, merely for the sake of imagination, who does it serve? It is a remarkable waste of gold when one looks closely at it."

"A noble’s reckless spending keeps the labourers employed," Lancelot pointed out. "They who do the work will not complain as they receive the coin. There’s no worth in hoarding gold."

"That assumes that Verdant wouldn’t be spending it on other means," Asabel pointed out. "For instance, what if one were to donate that portion of money to one of the city soup houses that help to get people through the winter?"

"Then they would likely find themselves to be outmatched and redundant, for if I recall, you’ve already done that, despite your own position," Lancelot pointed out.

Rarely did one get the opportunity to see a Princess blush. Oliver wouldn’t have thought that such a mention would be what she would redden at. Most nobles – that he’d interacted with anyway – would have been polite to flaunt such charity, as a means of demonstrating their magnanimous character. The Princess, by contrast, seemed heartily embarrassed.

She quickly searched for a way to change the conversation.

"That’s uhm—"

But she needn’t have bothered, for they’d already arrived outside of the designated room. "We are here," Thomas announced quietly, as he gently knocked on the freshly painted white door. The knock seemed redundant to Oliver, given that they’d just seen everyone of importance in the loungue beforehand, but neither Lancelot nor Asabel commented on it.

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When there was no reply, Thomas drew the door open, revealing a room that seemed to embody the word ’cosy.’

It was not large, but not entirely small either. Its wooden floors were covered by a thick ornate red rug, a complicated golden flower mandala sitting in its centre. The walls were dominated nearly entirely by bookcases, whilst a desk took what space was remaining.

It was the sort of room that could rival even General Skullic’s study in the Central Castle. Everything was high-class, and it was all lit by the warm glow of the fire.

"I shall stand guard two doors down then," Lancelot announced, striding pointedly exactly two doors down, and adopting the straight-backed posture of a guard set to endure a cold torrent of rain. The quickness with which he fell into the steady-eyed guardsman’s trance was somewhat eerie, by Oliver’s estimation.

"I will call for you should I need you," Asabel called after him, but Lancelot was already in guardsmen mode, and made no move to reply. His hand sat near the hilt of his sword should he ever need it, and the busy maids were left subject to the sudden threatening presence whenever they dared to set foot out into that corridor.

"Shall I have tea brought for you, Your Highness?" Thomas asked.

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"That would be delightful, thank you," Asabel said, gazing around the room and at the unlit candles of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Thomas noticed the direction of her eyes.

"Ah, forgive me, Your Highness. I shall have the chandelier-lit at once," he said, moving to grab a chair to stand on.

"No," Asabel stopped him. "I quite like it like this. What do you think, Oliver? There’s enough light to see, but not enough to keep one on edge. It’s awfully peaceful."

"Peaceful indeed," Oliver said, admiring the golden flames, the same colour as Asabel’s hair.

"As you say, Your Highness," Thomas said, bowing at the door. "I shall have the tea brought and ensure that you are not otherwise disturbed.

"Thank you," Asabel said, smiling. She seemed thoroughly taken by the little room. Thomas nodded, closing the door after himself.

"It’s lovely, isn’t it?" She said to Oliver, drifting over to one of the bookshelves. "Though, one can tell that Verdant’s influence hasn’t extended here yet. ’A Lady’s Spring In Warm Embrace’," she said, reading from the spine of one of the books, and laughing at it. "Something tells me that is unlikely to have come from his library."

Oliver came over to join her. He couldn’t read the titles nearly as quickly as she, but he was much better than he had been a while ago, and far better than a peasant boy had right to be. He found an amusing title of his own, and pulled it from the shelf. "’A Woman’s Guide To The Male Mind’," he read, smiling. "Are we really so complicated that you would need to write a book on it?

We’re simple enough, really. There had only need to be two sentences in there."

"Oh?" Asabel raised an eyebrow, questioning that proposition. "Perhaps your kind might seem so simple to you, but from the other side, you’re still quite the mystery. Come then, you’ve made a bold boast, Oliver Patrick. What would these two sentences be?"