A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 548 The Expected Enemy - Part 6

It really was that simple. Of all the poisons to be struck with, black grass was rather simple to cure, as long as the antidote was given quickly enough.

But given the speed with which the poison took a life, and how easily black grass itself was gathered, and how few people were capable of preparing the proper antidote, it still had a great deal of attraction for would-be assassins, depending on their job.

With the mixture ground up sufficiently, she pulled out a small wooden teaspoon, and measured the appropriate amount. And then, even so gently, she pulled Verdant's jaw open, and set the mixture on the back of his tongue. This would be the difficult part – getting him to swallow. If the poison had taken a strong hold of him already, it would complicate matters.

But placed on the back of the tongue as the medicine was, it provoked the natural urge to gulp. Verdant did so without hesitation – his body was stronger than it looked, it seemed. She sighed in relief, as she watched it slip down his throat.

Read exclusive adventures at empire

She then checked his pulse, just to be sure, and then she held her head to his lips to check his breathing. Satisfied, she withdrew. "He should be away from the worst of it now," she said to Oliver. He looked at her, in the straightforward way that he hadn't been able to earlier that evening, his exhaustion shining through.

To Asabel, though those eyes were on her, she couldn't help but feel that they were seeing through her, towards someone else.

He reached out a hand slowly, lethargically, like the hand of a dying man. Asabel watched it come nearer, until a finger was laid between her eyebrows.

"Oliver?" She asked uncertainly, as he studied her with studious eyes. She didn't think that she'd ever been looked at like that before. It almost made her blush. A ridiculous reaction – a childish, girlish reaction.

"You fiend…" Lancelot growled, but even his voice lacked his usual certainty. He couldn't be certain of what exactly was wrong.

Oliver spoke to her as if from a dream. "What are you?" He asked slowly, carefully, as if each word was carefully deliberated and weighed up for hours on end.

She could do nothing but look back in a stupor, as his finger hung on her face. After a moment, he withdrew it, apparently returning to himself somewhat. He looked away awkwardly, as if realizing how strange what he'd done was.

"Sorry…" He mumbled. "And thank you."

"It's fine," she said, her confused visage breaking into a smile. "Verdant should come around within the hour, I think, but for now he needs to rest – someplace better than this. Lancelot, will you have our staff bring a stretcher for Verdant? We shall return him to his quarters and make him comfortable."

"As you will, my Lady," Lancelot said, turning to relay the order to one of the lesser guardsmen, who promptly ran off to fetch the help they required. Lancelot's attention was clearly on something else – or more accurately, he couldn't tear his attention away from it, even for a second. "What of this..?" He asked, motioning with his hand.

Asabel sighed. The 'this' was outside of her wheelhouse, or at least, it had been up until now. As a royal and as a princess, it was her duty to be a figure of authority that could be relied upon in any situation, no matter her own personal distress. "For this, we must summon the Ministers. There is no one else. Awaken the messengers, and have them tell the Ministers what happened here.

Bring the maids as well – we don't have enough messengers to do all that needs doing through them alone. Have the Lords on the second floor informed. Tell them to keep the other students in line – this hallway is to be closed off until further notice."

Lancelot nodded, motioning to another one of the guards for that to be organized. The yellow-shirted boy soon went sprinting off, seeming glad to leave.

"Gather the guards, Lancelot – all of them currently on duty. Have them positioned in this hallway. Let no one pass," Asabel said.

"As you say," Lancelot once more relayed that order to the remaining man, who promptly went off. "What of you, my Lady? If there are assassins afoot, who's to say you're safe here? I would rather see you to your chambers."

"I cannot," Asabel said, "no matter how much you might wish it. As a Pendragon, the Yellow Castle is under my jurisdiction. What happened here today is my problem. If you worry for my safety, perhaps it is Oliver Patrick that you should turn to, given how he handled himself here today."

Lancelot could not summon the words to reply to that. He looked to Oliver, and the expression of horror on his face was more than enough. He could hardly look at him.

"Twenty men," Asabel said sadly. "Guardsmen. Protectors of our walls. For them to go off the rails like this, and target those who they're meant to protect. Today is a sad day. I cannot fathom the cruelty needed to put such a plot into action."

"Your Highness… I know that this is taboo to speak of," Jorah said hesitantly. "But these weren't just soldiers. They had what Verdant and Oliver called Blessed amongst them – two men far stronger than the rest. Fabian Small and Alistar Hoofless."

"Impossi—" Lancelot started to say, until he saw the corpse of Alistar sat far beyond the rest. "Gods be good…" He looked amongst the corpses for a smaller one, until he saw what was left of Fabian. "All this?" He said to Oliver. "You did all this?"

It wasn't respect in his voice, nor reverence. It wasn't him finally acknowledging that which he had for so long doubted. What Lancelot expressed was complete and utter horror. It was something that he could not fathom. He couldn't process it.