A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Uhh…" the General's stony demeanour evaporated as the attack came from an unexpected angle, and he tripped over his words trying to find a way to deflect it. "No, that was just speaking generally, in regards to women in general… probably."

"Weak, Daemon," Mary said.

Once more, Oliver reflected that their relationship wasn't a conventional one. What sort of maid could make her Lord grovel like that? He silently observed the two of them.

"Can we leave this?" Skullic said. "You can say all you want later, but let me finish this up for now."

"Fine," Mary said. "But Oliver, don't let you pressure him with his simple way of thinking. If you're quite sure an apology would not make the Princess happy, then you shouldn't force it on her. You shouldn't be trying to treat all women the same, as your good General Skullic seems to be advising."

"That's not what I'm saying…" Skullic said. "I'm just saying he needs to do something. He can't keep whatever pride he's clinging to and avoid speaking to her. Even if he had to thoroughly embarrass himself, it would be worth it, else he'll lose every ounce of political position that he has."

"Maybe," Mary said carefully, "this isn't something that can be reduced to mere politics, Daemon? I am not one to speak for a Princess, but perhaps she doesn't want all her friendships to be tainted by the want for political advantage."

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Mary's words struck a chord with Oliver and he tilted his head. He'd almost been convinced by Daemon's argument, but now that he'd heard Mary put it the other way, he was quite sure that wasn't the way to go. The girl was lonely, from what he'd seen of her. If he apologized – what was there even to apologise for? – merely for the sake of his own position, then what would be the point of it?

"Gods be good, you're already convinced with a sentence from her," Skullic said, defeated. "I'm no good at this, it seems. I'm far better at sticking to a man's lot, than venturing into a woman's realm. Do what you want, Patrick, but tread carefully. You're walking a tightrope now, any shift in the balance and you'll go tumbling from it, and everyone that's attached to you will follow."

"I'll be careful," Oliver promised.

"Be more than careful, be precise, if you can be. It's not just me – you've got a village now, eh? Hundreds of lives are attached to you. Do you think that anyone high up would be opposed to butchering the lot of them as a means of punishing your supposed treachery? Of course not. That's war, son, that's the game that gets played.

It's just advantageous to kill a man's subjects as it is to defeat his armies," Skullic said. "I hope you have plans in place. I hope you've been plotting, and making use of what has been given to you."

"I have been. A strategy has been laid out, though I'm not sure if you're going to approve of it, given how strongly you're counselling me to be careful," Oliver said.

"Oh?" Skullic said, straightening in his seat, and pushing his tray of food away, giving Oliver the fullest of his attention. If Oliver didn't know better, he would have thought that the man was worried. "Tell me."

"I'm going to build a wall," Oliver said, resolutely, a smile on his lips. Even the line itself was amusing to say. The more he said it, the more he was beginning to appreciate it. More appreciable, though, was Skullic's reaction.

That face that was still youthful, marred by lines from excessive frowns, was now frowning the heaviest he possibly could. His hands were clasped together in front of him, adding to that frown, and there was a thoroughly calculating look in his eyes, as he tried to put together all the pros and cons of such a decision.

He left Oliver for a full thirty seconds, waiting in silence. Even Mary had paused the eating of her meal that she'd been happily pecking away at, feeling the tension. She shared a look with Oliver, seeming intent on reassuring him. There was a thoroughly motherly manner to that woman.

"…Fine," Skullic said eventually. "It's brash, and it's bold, but it's in keeping with your character. In strategy, as well as in life, a man should not deny what he is. You can build the greatest of towers, if you use every building block of character that you have at your disposal. Fine, I say again.

It'll work – and I'm sure you're smiling because you know just as well as I how the royalty are likely to take it."

"Right. I'm imagining they won't be too pleased," Oliver said.

"It's almost as if someone is trying to compel them to act," Skullic said lightly, running his fingers on the edge of the table. "At the very least, if I were at war with you – metaphorically speaking, of course – I would interpret this gesture as a blatant target to bait me in, sheerly on its brashness.

I'm sure the dustier of the old strategists in the Capital will be just as suspicious of its boldness as I would be."

"Meaning what?" Oliver asked.

"Meaning, the very fact of its ridiculous provocativeness could be the very fact that keeps it defensible. After all, it screams 'trap', does it not?" Skullic said.

Oliver was stunned. Skullic's interpretation of his plan, as one would expect from a General – and accomplished strategist – was thoroughly different from what he, Verdant, and Greeves had managed to come up with. They hadn't seen it through the lens of the High King – at least, not in the same manner that Skullic did.

"Wait, General… The way you phrase it makes it seem as though they're evaluating me strategically already… As though we're already at war," Oliver said.

"That's because I'm a General, boy, and that is how I evaluate everything in my life, from women, to food, to minor inconveniences. Though I think it to be a valid interpretation. The High King has a problem, who better to solve it than the strategists? You do not assume him to be sat on his bed dreaming up these solutions yourself, do you?

No, he'll have men advising him, calculating what to do," Skullic said.