"If you stop using that title, you can remain as long as you want," Oliver said. He still found it jarring, and even more so when someone like Verdant said it. For that man said it with the utmost seriousness. He said it with strong enough emphasis that his hands seemed to be forcing Oliver to remain in the throne for all eternity.
"That is a compromise I can make," Verdant said, guiding his long coat down behind his legs, as he took a seat in the sand next to Oliver.
"Your servants are going to have a miserable time trying to get the sand out of that," Oliver said with a frown.
Verdant looked down upon himself, and smiled. "I would not burden them with that," he said. "I will at least see the sand thrown out myself, for it was my want that saw me sat down in it."
"Hm…" Oliver murmured, looking at him from the corner of his eye.
"You will make a good King, Oliver," Verdant said.
Oliver groaned. "Not this, Verdant, I do not wish to think on the matter."
