“Oliver Hart,” Dahlia said, testing the name on her lips. She knew of another Hart family member through word in the halls, a blacksmith of a girl, but beyond that her knowledge was limited. After his redundant admission, Dahlia graced the man with a rare and gentle smile. It was the kind of smile most men and women saw on the brunette’s face long ago back in the temple - one she had to strain now to achieve. However, the faint clinking of her guards’ armor from leaning their weight on the opposite foot erased all traces of it.
“Ah, His Highness. Wonderful company, if you’ve ever the honor,” she voiced loud enough for her guards to hear. In truth, Dahlia thought the prince wasn’t as terrible as his mother - perhaps played worse than her own self by the heartless Queen. Still, she wasn’t too keen on him. The servant woman supposed Oliver was looking for some answer, of which she attempted to grant, “I am of the Southern Isles. My mistress being Her Majesty, Queen Ammut, Herself. But I am a mere servant among many others in Her company.” Hoping to turn the tides before she was swept under, Dahlia wondered, “May I ask what you do?”
Oliver’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly when she smiled, and he was glad that he hadn’t said anything to ruin the conversation. She was a very interesting person, and though he knew that he was in no league as intriguing as her, Oliver continued to take what he could and talk as long as she permitted.
“I never had the chance myself, but someone I know once met him. He was quite taken by him, yeah.” Oliver shifted, looking at the guards when she stopped smiling. Was she trying to hide something from them? He hadn’t an idea of what she was trying to do; he spoke his thoughts without fear of who heard.
“Wait, you serve her?” Oliver’s eyes widened. “That’s...that’s something.” He bit back a hundred questions, trying to figure out which one to ask first and which she would actually answer. “I assist Mr. Stradden here in the city. He owns...um, businesses and he knows lots of important people, so I deliver his letters and things and sometimes I write. Whatever he needs done, really.” He paused, hesitated. “What do you think of Nore so far?”