A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Yoreholder sighed watching him. "You expect too much from yourself, boy," she said. "If your enemies were to see just how earnest you are about simple things like this, they would not paint you into such a monster."

"Which enemies are those, Professor?" Oliver said, feigning ignorance. His was an enemy that he couldn't name in polite company, after all.

"You know as well as I," the Professor said. "The powerful, would be one way to put it. The sort of enemy that no sane noble would go against, if they had reason to. The sort of enemy that I counselled my husband against going against. He would have supported you, you know, if not for my interference – but I talked him out of it."

The Professor looked at Oliver, as though expecting a reprimand. There had been an awkward tension in their lessons, from what had happened from the Trial. For the most part, the two of them simply didn't address the matter. Though, on occasion, Oliver would hint at it, if only to be mischievous, rather than as any real attempt at cleaning the air between them.

"I don't mind, Professor," Oliver told her pointedly. "For me to expect people to rally to my defence, despite what would happen to them if I'd lost – that would have been remarkably entitled, would it not? In truth, I was surprised that as many stood beside me as they did. The fact that the Minister of Blades did not stand against me as an enemy is something I should be thankful for.

Withdrawing as he did, was still a support of me, in some sort of way."

The woman was caught off guard by that. Her usually stern face, as tight and orderly as the rest of her, was momentarily left disordered, as her lips were left ever so slightly parted. It took her a second to recover herself, and when she did, she turned on her heel to hide her expression. "Very good, Patrick. Very good – I see you've a more charming side to you, when you feel you ought to manage it.

How about you try and instil some of that charm into your bow, mm?"

"Under your tutelage, that seems quite possible, Professor," Oliver said, a little cheekily.

"Oh, Gods be damned. Now you're playing it up. Resume. We'll see this matter concluded – I won't have you attempt to distract me with idle talk, like Volguard has started complaining you do."

"Volguard was complaining about that?" Oliver said. "Are you sure? That's strange. I'd thought that he saw our discussions to be productive."

"No, he had praise for that as well, when pressed, it was just--. No, now you're doing it to me! You're a distraction, youngling. Dominus must have had a silver-tongue man when he had the right motivations. I fear for your poor mother, if this is what he was like. No more now.

You've won – you've got your private lessons, now you had best make use of them. Those that do not want to see you fail will not allow you to stand idle," Professor Yoreholder said. "Begin! See the bow as a bow – don't try to make it a sword. You must move differently in your handling of it."

"Right," Oliver said, attempting the drill again.

He tried with the same speed as before, though he controlled his movements as he went. He tried to not let them get away from him too much, like they had before. He kept his legs powerful and subtle, and he kept the sway of his arms minimal as he ran, focusing entirely on the shot before he even reached the line.

It was a temporary bandage, too stiff to be used in proper battle, but it worked then. The arrow that had missed by a good hand before now made its way into the second ring from the outside.

…

…

Horse riding was on Oliver's agenda as well, even more so now than it had been before, given that he'd been gifted Solgrim.

As well as practising the riding, he was urgently thinking of how he might also set aside the coin to buy a horse of his own, for he would certainly need one in the near future. Not just for Skullic's mission coming up in the next two weeks, but so he might travel across the country whenever he might feel like it.

A horse was certainly faster than a carriage, after all, even if that carriage was designed to be speedy like the one he'd taken to Solgrim, a horse and a single rider would always be quicker. The only downside was the amount of luggage that he'd be able to carry with it.

Those were concerns for the future, though. It was coin, and it was skill, those were the two things that he needed to brush up on. Without a horse of his own, it was Casper that Oliver had been visiting frequently. Every evening that he could, as of late, he'd made his way out to the stables to pay the animal a visit, and take it for a ride.

"Oh, he's getting spoiled now, Ser," Nelson had told him. "Both you and Lord Idris paying him visits so often – I don't think there's a happier horse in this entire stable. He'll be sad when you get a horse of your own, he will. He'll miss the company."

"I'll still visit him whenever I come," Oliver assured the stablehand. "He's too good a horse to pass over. Verdant chose him rightly."

"That he did. You can always count on an Idris for that – seeing the true value of things, and choosing them wisely. If there were ever to be a retainer wondering what house to serve, believing they have a talent in some area, I'd tell em' to serve the Idris'. They'll ensure you're properly evaluated and properly compensated, they will," Nelson told him.

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"If I ever become a Serving Class man, then I'll be sure to head their way," Oliver said with a smile.

Nelson cackled at the joke. "Theys evaluated you too properly, Ser Patrick. You're a good man, I say. A good man. The horses respect you, and I thinks I does too. Here's an apple for Casper in case you've forgotten one."