A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Ferdinand nodded, taking Oliver's serious proclamation for what it was, and responding with a serious look of his own in kind. "It was my father's idea, that one, I must confess. Apparently, he wasn't aware just how dire the state of your house was until Lombard pointed it out to him.

I imagine that to be a difficult affair – to be in a position to receive your inheritance, and receive nothing but a name and title."

"A good name though it is," Oliver said, as humbly as he could.

"Hm…" Ferdinand mused, studying him, trying to gauge his true feelings. Oliver didn't need to avoid his gaze, for those were his true feelings. Even if Dominus' name came tainted with a more dangerous poison than he could have expected, he would never have turned it away. These were the sorts of opportunities that could never have been afforded to a peasant. "It is strange that you believe that.

I imagine most noblemen would rather have had a quiet life, on minimal lands, without the name of Patrick."

"A quiet life does not seem to be something to which I am suited," Oliver replied.

Ferdinand curled his lips in a true smile at that, and plonked himself down on the sofa opposite Oliver, waving his hand for the boy to do the same. "On that note, I have heard times to be quite tumultuous, mm? I hope you'll forgive me for saying that I find the whole matter to be somewhat amusing – as someone detached from it."

Behind him, Olive felt Judas and Nila stiffened at Ferdinand's casual dismissal of the situation that he was in. Across the room, standing behind Ferdinand, Greeves had much the same expression, though he hid it better than the other two.

"I mean, really! The whole country is up in arms about a single boy. You're as controversial as religion. You're my father's man, so in company I defend you, but there's hardly another man that does. Saying anything positive on your name is to invite a wave of scorn. It's startling just how deep the well has been poisoned.

To even speak of you levelly, with due consideration, weighing all the facts, is to be accused of being a fool," Ferdinand said with a wave of his hand. He laughed at his dialogue, and gave himself a nod that seemed to suggest that he was pleased in some sort of way.

"As a man who can't abide by dullness, I suppose I have to thank you for giving me the ammunition to kill a considerable number of conversations."

"Well, you're welcome, I suppose…"

"But it's not only conversations you kill, is it?" Ferdinand said, his voice dropping a level. "No, Ser. What was it recently? Dollem Fort? Five hundred bandits with a hundred men? You weren't sole command there, from what I understand, but anyone with a positive word would put it that you are."

"Exaggerations, I'm sure," Oliver said.

"Exaggerations enough for Skullic to give you command of a hundred men permanently, I wonder? Indeed, squire, that news too has travelled fast. Another that wishes to discuss your feats at Dollem points to Skullic's reaction and your 'promotion' as proof of what you likely achieved," Ferdinand said. "Of course, I know you've done more impressive things than that.

Defending this village, for instance… You caused me no shortage of trouble in that."

"...? Did I?" Oliver said, cocking his head.

"No, come now, don't look so defensive. I'm not criticizing it for you, but in the spirit of honesty, that did indeed happen. Father proposed giving you a reward, some land, and he thought I might be irritated to have to give away my own lands as recompense – but I thank you for that. Solgrim hasn't been mine since the day that you defended it. I've never seen peasants with so much spunk before.

They're daring. They've stopped showing the respect to the nobility that it's due," Ferdinand said.

"They've been through a tough time. I'm sure their lack of fear of the nobility isn't an intentional display of disrespect," Oliver said. "They have reason to be fond of the nobles, after all, after Lombard gave an arm in their defence, and most of his army."@@novelbin@@

"And after Oliver Patrick, son of Dominus, lived amongst them, and threw his own life on the line in their name, and the life of his father," Ferdinand said. "Oh, yes, I don't doubt that they have reason to feel closer to nobility than any other collection of peasantry – but that works not in my benefit."

"I suppose you're right. Forgive my impudence," Oliver said easily, relaxing into his chair, managing to keep a straight face.

"And now you've even won my father over as well. For a man that seems to have the whole country against him, you have an unusual charisma, do you not?" Ferdinand said, twisting one of the rings on his finger. "A charismatic Patrick – now there's a joke that if you'd told it fifty years ago, they'd laugh in your face. Now, here we are, I suppose."

Explore more at My Virtual Library Empire

"I wouldn't say I've won over your father…" Oliver said carefully. "I've only properly met the man once. I think our interests merely align."

"Perhaps. Indeed, perhaps. Maybe it's not charisma. Maybe it's just the allure of strength. Perhaps strength is worth more now than it was fifty years ago. The Gods only know, the strong seem to be popping up like flies – I wonder what the deal with that is?

If they see it fit to give all manner of cretins strength and power, why did they not send any my way? As Lord Blackwell's son, you'd expect me to at least have second-rate strength in my sword arm, but I don't even have it at third-rate," Ferdinand said bitterly. "Indeed, Ser Patrick. If you're as strong as they say, it's no wonder that my father is sticking his neck out for you."

There settled an uncomfortable air as Ferdinand voiced something that seemed to be closer to his true feelings on the matter. Oliver couldn't help but think that the young man – he had to be around Verdant's age, if not a little older – was placing the blame in his corner, somehow, even though he hid it behind compliments.