A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

When the following morning came, and it was time for Oliver to head back to the Academy, Petyr was determined enough to get some answers out of him.

The soldiers gathered to salute his farewell, and Oliver shook hands with both Cormrant and Northman, before nodding to the squadron that he'd been in charge of, promising that he would see them soon.

It was a peculiar scene. Both sides seemed to make concessions, as a show of respect. For a noble to treat a man of the Serving Class as an equal – that was something. But for trained men of the battlefield to welcome an outsider as swiftly as they had, that was something else.

It made Petyr even more determined to get something out of him. He was sure there was a mountain of stories. As a carriage driver, it was virtually his duty to gather stories. They seemed to expect it of him whenever he went to taverns and announced his profession. What could have been a hotter topic in those taverns nearest the Academy than Oliver Patrick?

Given all that had happened recently with the trial, it seemed very little.

"Ser Patrick," Petyr tried, after spending nearly half the journey working up the courage to ask. He was once more struck by the intensity of the youth as he sat up on the driver's bench next to him.

"Mm?"

"Can you tell me more of what happened? They said there was a Minotaur," Petyr tried. He'd managed to scrounge a few details from the soldiers, but for the most part, they'd treated him like a pest. It seemed unlikely that he'd be able to get anything worthwhile from anyone but Oliver himself.

"Ah, yes," Oliver said easily. "Pandora's Flame, a few sacrifices, and a druid that cast himself in a fire."

He said all that without any further explanation. It was a strange enough sentence to leave Petyr stumped. He had more questions in his mind then than he'd had before he'd even asked. He tried to put the pieces together, to make sense of it, but all his imagination could conjure was the strangest of images.

He dared not ask again. He could see the tiredness about Oliver's face, despite his considerably friendlier attitude than the day before. He dared not push it. Not when Oliver's boots still bore the blood of all the men that he'd killed. Even if he'd worn a fresh pair of clothing – he'd decided to burn the others, and don his backup pair – he didn't have a fresh pair of boots to bring.

That, to him, seemed wasteful. The treated leather could easily be cleaned to rid itself of the blood, given time.

All the way to the gates of the Academy, Petyr was trying to work up the courage to ask, but found himself unable to. It was only when Oliver hopped down off the carriage that he was able to speak again – and only then, it was in response to something that Oliver had said.

"Thank you for your services, Petyr," Oliver said. "I will tell Skullic that you served me well."

"…Thank you, Ser Patrick," Petyr managed to mumble, feeling terribly dissatisfied.

Oliver didn't notice. It was already past midday and he was half-starved and half-exhausted, but he still had a list to get through before he could relax. The first item on that list was reporting to General Skullic.

He ignored the strange glances that the guards gave him as they eyed his bloody boots, and strode straight inside.

…

…@@novelbin@@

"Mm…" That was all Skullic had to say when he finished reading the sealed letter that Oliver had handed him. Since Oliver would be travelling to see Skullic himself regardless, Northman had asked him to bring a copy of the letter with him.

They'd be informing him by crow regardless, but one could fit far more information in a hand-delivered letter.

"Praise the boy now, Daemon," Mary said, looking over his shoulder. "By the sounds of things, he achieved far more than you expected him to."

General Skullic smiled knowingly at that, as he looked up at her. "Did he?"

She caught the meaning behind that look, and shook her head, slapping him on the shoulder. "Would you care for something to eat, Ser Patrick? You look famished."

"Please," Oliver said, dipping his head.

Mary smiled at his honesty. The nobles were usually such a restrained sort. It was refreshing to deal with someone more approachable. "I shall steal away to the dining hall then and find you something."

"Thank you," Oliver said politely. She nodded her appreciation. It wasn't required to be polite to servants after all. Skullic watched her go. It was hard to tell whether the look on his face was approval or not.

"You're using my servants as though they're your own," he noted.

"She asked, and I answered," Oliver said. "I can't deny that I'm starving. Her offer was very much appreciated."

"I will let her know that, then," Skullic said, as he leaned back in his chair, and it swung off the ground. "This," he said, pointing to the letter. "Is a good start."

"You approve, then?" Oliver asked.

"Don't look so much like a puppy, boy," Skullic complained, "I've warned you about that before. Act like a dog, and people will treat you like one. You completed the mission I assigned for you, as expected, of course, I would approve. The lack of casualties is also subject to my approval."

"Skullic," Oliver said, getting a certain impression from the way the man carried himself. He didn't seem that surprised to read what he had. "You seem to have expected things to go as they did…" Continue your journey on My Virtual Library Empire

"I am a General, Patrick," Skullic said evenly. "It is my job to take into account variables far beyond that which I expect of my underlings. Indeed, I expected that there would be more to Dollem fort, though I did not think that you would necessarily be the one to discover it… Nor did I expect it to be quite what it is."