That last line had surprised Oliver more than the others. Lombard was not a man to show any sort of affection. To hear him say something that sounded suspiciously like goodwill, rather than an order, it was rather shocking.
"Ah, and this as well. A letter from Solgrim. My man tells me a merchant sent it," Lombard said.
Oliver had taken the scraggly-looking bit of parchment from Lombard's fingers, and doubtfully unfold it, as he climbed into the carriage beside the maid.
Slowly, he'd begun to read it, only to find that the letters – letters that he already had some difficulty grasping, for his reading was somewhat lacking – were nearly impossible to make out.
Seeing him struggle and frown, Marianne had offered to read it for him. She'd be sent, in Lombard's place, to ensure that Oliver arrived safely in the Capital.
