A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

It seemed a silly question to ask ordinarily, and Verdant would never have shamed his master with it if their company had been anything other than what it was. Here, they were close enough friends that Oliver's weakness did not need to be disguised.

His lack of knowledge for noble customs was one of his biggest and most obvious downfalls – and so Verdant pointledly, and patiently, sought to find out just what he knew, knowing that if he left the seeds of confusion there, then he would be left cleaning up after some seemingly irrational decision Oliver had made down the line.

"No, I wasn't unaware. Ferdinand – Lord Blackwell's son – was in charge of Solgrim, from what I knew," Oliver said.

"Indeed," Verdant said. "He has agreed to cede that land in place of your claim, I have no doubt."

"…I see," Oliver said, slowly waving the letter in front of his face, as though to attempt to absorb its contents. It didn't help. "So, why now…"

"From Lord Blackwell's perspective, you mean?" Verdant asked.

Oliver had meant more generally, though. It was more a begrudging question to the Gods themselves, as they gifted him with another bit of responsibility, something increasingly dramatic. His world, as Dominus had warned all that time ago, didn't seem capable of slowing. It was one bombshell after the other.

"Well, no doubt he wants to reward you for what you've already done, and as I've said, Lombard likely counselled him towards it. It gives you the chance to build up your House, whilst you still are within the protective custody of the Academy. With building a House, and its estates and finances, progress is inevitably slow, so the sooner one gets started, the better," Verdant explained.

"I imagine, at its heart, the reasons are likely selfish. Lombard has pointed out that, with the missions you receive, by the time you come of age you will be a honed edge, ready to fight at true war, as the Sword – and budding General – that you were made to be. It is only really the fact of your politics, and your lack of an estate that would hold you back."

Long-winded though Verdant's speech was, it made a considerable amount of sense. At least, it did to Oliver. For Blackthorn, it seemed to be too wordy, for Oliver caught her leaning in to whisper a question to Pauline, who hurriedly rushed to whisper back, pretending that she hadn't noticed that Oliver had caught them.

"Congratulations," Lasha said eventually, after a few nods, listening in on Pauline's explanation. She seemed genuinely happy for him, if the tiny smile – a rarity for that girl – was anything to go by. "This will be of a great help to you, will it not?"

"It will be," Oliver agreed, leaning back in his chair. It was complicated, no doubt, another problem amongst many, in an already complicated day, but the fire burning within him would allow him to acknowledge it as nothing other than an opportunity. A devilish grin arose to his lips. "I think Blackwell might have given me too much of a hand here, if I had to say… Verdant.

Next weekend I shall plan to visit Solgrim. If you were to send crows in advance, would they have anyone that could receive them?"@@novelbin@@

"I would expect so, my Lord," Verdant said. "Though, even if they did not, I could send a crow to Ernest under my name, and a messenger could be sent from the city. To whom did you wish for them to be addressed to?"

He couldn't help but smile as he said the name aloud, for what felt like the first time in a while. He didn't doubt that the man himself would no doubt be grinning just as revoltingly, as he smelt the opportunity coming his way – the opportunity to make a good deal of coin, and rise up even higher in the world, as he'd always assured them all that he would.

"A merchant by the name of Greeves," Oliver said, delighting in the puzzled grins of the others. He knew, if they'd ever met the man, those grins would no doubt go from puzzlement to disgust. "And a hunter by the name of Nila Felder. Though, I suppose, that she might be something more of a merchant too now."

Only Verdant seemed to understand the significance that those names help for Oliver, for he accepted them reverently, as though he'd just been bestowed with a great secret – a secret that he'd sought after for the longest time. If Oliver didn't know any better, he would have guessed that the man was just as excited as he.

Finally, it was time to make his return. Back to the crucible that had changed the course of his life forever. Back to the alchemist's cauldron by those Black Mountains that had transmuted Beam into Oliver Patrick – back to that tiny little village of Solgrim.

Unaware of his plotting, Lasha made an off-hand, but rather astute observation. "I did think that we were going to be going hunting that day…" she remarked.

Oliver was startled enough to realize that he'd forgotten that. His deal with Nebular still stood. There were changes that they planned to make to it as well. It would be best to go ahead with that, as soon as possible. That too, would give him more to discuss with Greeves, as the greasy-fingered merchant offered his input.

"Fear not, my Lord," Verdant said, as he sent a servant off to recover his quill and messenger paper for the letters. "I do believe that we could solve the problems that we agreed to solve with Nebular far in advance. You are not required to look over them.

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If we were to begin our hunt at dawn, you could do what is necessary, and still depart from the Great Forest by midday, allowing you to arrive in Solgrim just after dark. Would that work?"

"That would be perfect," Oliver said.