A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

He spoke to more than just that man. Even telling him to rise, the man seemed to be immobilized with emotion in the snow, sobbing, unable to form the words properly. Oliver spared him a light pat on the shoulder, and continued on his way, urged by a few irritated glances from Greeves.@@novelbin@@

"C'mon now, Jason, yer embarrassing us," came voices from behind him, as a few villagers rushed to tend to the fallen man.

"But… But I had to say it. I got to say it. I never might get to say it again."

"We know how yer feel, but there's a time and place, y'know? You missed your chance last night – we all said that we'd make a good showing of ourselves today, especially with that lordling Ferdinand coming."

"But he's already gone…"

"And we still managed to get a few scoldings from the guards, so that didn't go so well, did it? So pull yourself together, I say. We've already embarrassed ourselves twice."

"Ser Patrick!" A butcher called. "I've got a new cut for you, kept fresh with the snow. On the house, if you'll take it!"

"I'll take it," Greeves said, reaching for it, only for a clever to come within an inch of his fingers.

"I ain't realised that you'd been called 'Ser Patrick', merchant," the butcher said, his clever glinting dangerously in the winter sun.

"Ah, my mistake," Greeves said easily. "I thought you were calling to me in thanks for giving you this nice prize little spot in the marketplace. Of course, that was silly for me to assume that you'd be fuckin' grateful, eh?"

As always, Greeves made a good showing of intimidating his fellow merchants. Judas hung ominously behind the butcher, as was his habit. He no longer carried a simple bludgeon, but a proper spiked mace hanging from his belt. Even under their pressure, the butcher didn't cave.

"You think I'm fuckin' intimidated by you two, when Ser Patrick's right there? Heh, you'd need an army to get to me with him around," the butcher said. "What d'ya think, Ser? I got this through Felder's Game, so you know that's a good-quality cut there. Take it, if you've the hands to carry it."

"It does look like a good bit of meat," Oliver said. "Too much for me to take as a gift."

"No Ser, I ain't accepting coin for it. Don't you reach for your purse. Take it as a gift, and I'll still be the one thanking you," the butcher said. The other butchers near them were eyeing their conversation with an envious look on their faces.

Eventually, Oliver relented. "Well, thank you," he said eventually. "I'll enjoy it heartily." Your journey continues at My Virtual Library Empire

"Good!" The butcher declared, wearing a victorious grin. "I'll have it packaged and sent to your house, Ser. Does that work for you?"

"Perfect," Oliver agreed.

"I'll leave you to it now. There's others vying for your attention. I reckon they'll be putting knives in my back if I keep you any longer."

With that little parting joke, Oliver bade the man farewell. Indeed, there were plenty of others coming his way, offering him their goods. From butchers, to bakers, to clothiers, and even some merchants that had travelled that way, despite the winter roads, offering him gifts of the same sort. Those were the more surprising men to Oliver. They weren't natives of this village, they owed nothing to him.

He asked one of them quite pointedly, wondering what their motivations were.

"That's a travelling merchant's crest, isn't it?" Oliver pointed out the star sewn into the man's sleeve, as a well-bearded merchant tried to offer him a gift of a pearl necklace 'for a woman of his fancy'. "Whilst your gift seems most tempting, you've got me at a loss. I didn't not fight with you, did I? I wonder why you would make a gift of thanks to me, when it seems I've done nothing for you?"

The merchant seemed just as surprised by the question as Oliver was by the gift. He looked at Greeves, as though blaming him for the misunderstanding.

"Just because he's a travelling merchant doesn't mean he doesn't have friends and family, boy," Greeves said. "From the looks of him, he's probably got family in Solgrim, aye."

The man shook his head. "No family, not here. They dwell beyond Ernest. I've friends though, for true, but it's not just their lives I thank you for. It might seem strange to yer, now that I think about it… But it's not just the Solgrim boys that appreciate what you did.

Everyone in villages for miles around is feeling safer for it – you've set a standard that other nobles have to meet, putting your life on the line to defend a village. That's a gift worth more than any necklace."

Greeves seemed to understand that far more quickly than Oliver did. This being his first time back in a good two months, he hardly knew the affairs of the village, never mind what was happening for miles around. To hear that even the surrounding villages – and beyond – were grateful went entirely against his expectations.

"The gratitude of the peasantry, is it?" Greeves said, stroking his chin. "That does make sense, I wager… When was the last time a nobleman truly put his life on the lines for the lower classes? Not since Arthur, I wager…"

"Aye, you get it!" The merchant said, pleased. "They say they're defending us, but they never take no risks to do so. If it means losing soldiers, they won't bother, they'd rather lose villagers. It never happens the other way around. So, take this gift, Ser. Take it!

If any of the other merchants were here, they'd be fighting to do the same."

And so it was that Oliver was forced into taking another gift, this time a necklace, something that he could give to pretty much no one. He felt like some kind of gold-grabbing goblin collecting loot. Most of them sent the gifts back to his house, but others simply handed it off to Judas who'd had to sequester a bag he was receiving so many.

"I'm jealous," Greeves remarked, when they cleared the market square. "You've just made that much gold without even lifting a finger."