A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"There's a dismissiveness to that that isn't accurate," Skullic warned "I expect that if you do get these men, as you propose, you'll be wanting to train them still, aye?"

"Of course," Oliver said.

"And you're getting slaves too, are you?" Skullic said, hitting the nail on the head with a perfectly calm expression. Find adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

"How did you..?" Oliver said.

"You hinted at it twice. What could be below the peasantry but slaves? I expect you laced that in there so you could tell me that you told me of it once I find out about their arrival. A tactic beneath you, Patrick. You can be more honest with me. I will be honest in return – I won't try to alter your strategies.

Especially not if there's merit in them. I can only offer advice," Skullic said.

"And then..?"

"And then, this arrangement, perhaps, is not the worst. I don't imagine you'll be fool enough to keep them enslaved – you'll be freeing them. It'll be a mark against your reputation, but, in varying degrees, slight tarnishes serve as distractions from bigger issues. Mistakes themselves can be strategically advantageous, as we discussed with your everso-tempting building of the wall," Skullic said.

"I approve of it, but publically, I will disapprove of it strongly. Does that bother you?"

"It doesn't," Oliver said. "Though it might have, had you not warned me in advance."

"That is the way it must be, so that the brush you wield doesn't tarr those around you. I doubt anyone would think to lay the blame at Princess Asabel's feet for it, but you ought to warn her as well. If your relationship between your factions is as set in stone as you seem to believe, you ought to give her the courtesy of that warning," Skullic told him.

Oliver blanched a little, having realized that it had slipped from his mind the fact that he needed to warn Asabel as well of what he was doing. He was beginning to realize how troublesome it was now to be part of a larger collective. To have his own actions – which at times, were hard for the nobility to come to terms with – held against any who dared to associate with him.

After concluding his business with Skullic, Oliver had told Verdant of his intentions to stage a meeting with the Princess, in an attempt at rectifying their relationship, if that was at all possible. Verdant had nodded sagely, admiring the wisdom and maturity with which he came to that conclusion, and then he had set out to once more secure a meeting.

The man, however, had returned troubled.

"…They haven't given me a date," he said. "They were in a hurry to see me out of the door – I couldn't even catch a glimpse of the Princess himself."

He'd looked at Oliver as he said that, gauging his reaction. Whatever Verdant had thought had happened between him and Asabel, clearly he didn't think it was severe enough to warrant that kind of treatment.

"They refused to give you a date entirely?" Oliver said calmly, not entirely finding the circumstances to be unexpected.

"Nothing but their assurances that they would write to us, and send us an invitation as soon as they were able," Verdant said. "It's the sort of treatment that they'd give a Serving Class student asking for aid… No, even that Princess wouldn't cold-shoulder a lesser pupil like that. Just what happened, my Lord..?"

"I can't say that I fully know," Oliver responded, "only that I have no intentions of going back on anything that I said."

"My Lord… Surely an argument is not profitable? What could it possibly be for such a disagreement to stretch between you?" Verdant said.

"I cannot say. To say would be to push her further into a corner. I can only say she has principles that I disagreed with," Oliver said. "I could not allow her to act in accordance with them."

"A moral disagreement..?" Verdant said softly. "How unexpected…"

Though the Asabel Pendragon faction had told Verdant Idris that he would receive an invitation posthaste, whenever they had the time to write it, that invitation did not arrive by the end of that day, nor the day after it, nor even the day after that.

It was a treatment that went thoroughly against what they'd come to expect from Asabel. Even though she was the busy Princess that she was, she'd always made time for their meetings. Even if it truly was a matter of time, and she could only meet with them for five or ten minutes, Verdant was sure that she knew they wouldn't have taken offence – that they'd have found it far preferable to this.

It was not until the end of the school week, and the last day before the weekend, did Oliver receive any letters at all.

Both were handed to him by the hands of one of the Academy's couriers – a mixture of both Serving Class students looking for extra coin, and adults employed specifically for the position – which, that day, happened to be a cheerful young boy, like a year or two below Oliver.

"There you are, Ser Patrick! I hope your letters bring you good news!" He said cheerfully, affording him a bright smile. Oliver was caught off guard by that kind of sincerity. Perhaps it was one of the lines that the Academy had told him that he should say as he delivered his mail, but even they could not have anticipated that he would say it so genuinely, and to Oliver Patrick of all people at that.

"Thank you," Oliver said, recovering him. "Here, a coin for your trouble," he said, flicking him a silver.

The boy's eyes went wide. "Really!?" He gasped. "Thank you, Ser!" He bowed hurriedly, cooing over the silver coin.

Oliver smiled, remembering a time when he would have done the same. Now, even a hundred golds a week in income wasn't enough for his purposes. He watched the courier skip excitedly away back down the hallway, before turning his attention to the two letters that he'd been handed.