Oliver Blackpool

Oliver was a good kid. Bookish, and more than a little afraid of his own shadow, but that was easily forgettable. He weathered the storm of his father well enough. I had little reservations about his hardiness. Elias Blackpool was a hard man and I often reflected on what it must have been like to be his son. He was bright and brave even if it didn’t take the form of physical combat. Every day he risked his well being tasting my food. More than once he was lain low by some poison, or rotten morsel. I had my attendants see to him, but each time I prepared myself for his death.

“What do you think Oliver?”

We were in my study. I had grown accustomed to relying on him for more than just tasting my food for poison. He was my advisor and attendant. My other advisors hardly raised a brow. They were too busy with their own matters and had different reasons for explaining await the unusual relationship. Sometimes I just needed a snack while pouring over boring stately business late into the night.

“About what my lord?”

“Well, about everything, but more specifically the current group of invaders.”

“Well,” said Oliver. He paused and pensively studied the ground for an answer. “They were nearly successful. Most adventurers, sorry, invaders, don’t even make it to the palace, but these actually confronted you. Your council heads just happened to be meeting with you. It made it easy to make there way to you, but they were doomed. There is no telling what might have happened if they had managed to find you alone. Fortunately, they were arrogant and thought they could best you all.”

I idly plucked a grape and put it in my mouth while I listened. I always had some snack while ruminating over the events of the day. Grapes and cheese hit the spot tonight. That, and a decanter of scotch. I loved scotch, but it was only after the days woes. Administration was no time to be drunk, and I liked scotch a little too much.

It was true; I despised the term adventurer. It glossed over what these people really were. Craven opportunists. It was rare that they ever took up a chance to be noble. Most were greedy, rapacious, curs that justified their actions through sophistry and self-deception. Oliver’s self correction, while well intentioned, was totally unnecessary. Adventurer was the colloquial term that was used instead of killer, thief, and invader. I wouldn’t use it, but I hardly cared if others did. Brandis might have punished him for it, but not me.

“Most of them are, and some succeed. My group did.” I said, then I devoured another grape for emphasis.

“And thank the realm for that.”

Not only was Oliver sheepish, but he was young and inexperienced and totally unsure of his talents. He was more comfortable cowering and being obsequious than defiant. I had no room for yes men, but I also found needless defiance a nuisance. People needed to know their worth and their place. Oliver had time.

I let out a short laugh. “And what do you think about the one that escaped?”

“Well, she didn’t escape my lord. And Pontious is searching for her as we speak. He will find her no doubt. She couldn’t have gotten far and is probably hiding like a coward in some Brandis sympathizer’s cellar licking her wounds.”

“Yes, probably, but she was different. When they entered the chamber she remained in the back. Mind you, she was in full, decorative armor. The man who monologued was a rakish fellow wearing leathers and a shit eating grin. He was likely the source of their overconfidence. I had never heard invaders monologue before. It was quite unique. Your father was ready to strike, but I stayed his hand, and let the fool finish. He was the first to die, I made sure of that. It was my honor to lay him low. Along with some woman. They were probably fucking. She was very angry when he died. Tomwell was his name. He actually stated who they were in his monologue. It was the most surreal experience.”

I ate another grape and took a sip of drink.

“Anyway, after she fell out the window everything went to hell for them. She was clearly the linchpin in Tomwell’s plans and he didn’t make any others. Maybe it had worked so well there was no need for an alternative. Fool. We killed two, captured the other two, and of course the woman who plummeted out the window. It is a miracle she survived the fall and escaped.”

“My father regrets letting her get away.”

“You’re father makes everything his responsibility. It’s useful, but it weighs him down with guilt at times when it shouldn’t. These are not the last assassin’s August will send and these got too close. I need innovation.” I looked at him expectantly like he would have some sudden stroke of genius. Of course he wouldn’t, but by his reaction I could tell displeasing me was the last thing on his mind.

“As for the woman. Gwyneth was here name if I remember Tomwell’s monologue correctly. Well, Gwyneth was not like her fellows. She was almost reluctant to fight. Something was vexing her about the whole situation and I’m curious to know what it was. She was fighting because she was told to, not because she believed in herself, or Tomwell, or August’s mission.”

I glanced at the empty plate. All that was left was an empty stalk where grapes had been. Glistening, large, black grapes. Those were my favorite, but an empty plate was my signal to conclude the evening. No more politics, plotting, planning. Just sleep. I would dismiss Oliver, retire to my rooms, and rest until the sun brought new problems.