A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

It only just seemed to notice them. With its position right on the edge of the clearing, settled against the trunk of one of the larger trees, it seemed to have been napping. Only now, with the scent of blood in the air did it begin to look up.

It bellowed a roar as Verdant marched towards it, looking at the very image of a fairy tale hero, or knight. His armour was immaculate and shining, with most of its weight on his upper body, leaving his legs freer except for the skirt of hanging chainmail.

Everything was polished to a gleam that caught the winter sun, and there were even some ribbons of gold and blue running along the edges of the plate.

Of course, if a bandit were to eye him, it would be the tastefully placed jewels that he noticed first. Rubies, and sapphires, and even some diamonds. It was like a walking target on his back. Oliver had thought to say something about that, but he couldn't quite put it into words. It seemed more that he was the odd one for thinking it to be strange.

"Well, Verdant, let's see how you've managed to recover from your clumsiness," Oliver said, ignoring a restless Blackthorn as she fidgeted by his side.

The Hobgoblin didn't wait for the priest to march all the way to him, as determined as a sentinel. After bellowing its roar, and frightening away a flock of winter birds, it came barrelling across the clearing, running on three limbs, with a rusted sword in its fourth.

Only when it came nearer did it attempt to come upright, and even then, it was only for a split few seconds, before it collapsed back down, salivating with the thought of the sweet flesh in front of it.

Verdant lowered himself into his battle stance, his spear extended, and a small blue ribbon dancing off it near the tip. As well as an added bit of decoration, there were some warriors who thought it helped to confuse the true location of the spearpoint when the weapon was being thrust at high speed.

It was almost anti-climatic the way the two engaged. Verdant had positioned himself as though he was a knight accepting a duel, and the Hobgoblin had performed the role of monster admirably, by charging as it had, and looking fearsome, but that was about as far as its storybook monster manners went.

It didn't slow down to allow tension to build between the two of them, as they figured out each other's weaknesses. No, Hobgoblins were the complete opposite of such etiquette.

It threw its at Verdant with a complete lack of regard for everything else. It only seemed to remember that it had a sword at the very last moment, as it twisted in the air, using its massive arm to send the weighty blade careening towards Verdant's side.

'Block…' Oliver thought to himself, his muscles tensing as though he was the one fighting. That was the troublesome thing about Verdant – or at least, from what Oliver had seen of him – he fought so stiffly, that it was impossible to tell exactly what he would do next.

True to his reputation, the Idris' heirs reaction to the strike was off by a good bit. Only just before the sword landed did he manage to get the steel shaft of his spear in the way. But of course, against the strike of a Hobgoblin wielding such a large sword, that didn't exactly count for much.

The weight of the strike carried straight through Verdant's guard, and lifted him up from his feet, armour and all, sending him hurtling a good distance through the snow.

"Oh no…" He heard Pauline whisper, her face white. Her compassion seemed to make it difficult for her to watch the fights. Though Amelia pulled a face, she didn't seem to be much different from her friend. She winced every time one of them got hit.

Covered in his armour, Verdant went hurtling through the snow, seeming more golem than man by his lack of reaction to what had happened. The Hobgoblin charged him with the same enthusiasm of a hunting dog chasing a stick. Before the priest could get to his feet, the large rusty sword came looking for him once again, this time targeting his opposite side.

With a giant thwack, the sword bit into the side of Verdant's plate, sending him flying once again. This time, it was Oliver who winced. Even with plate, he was sure that such a strike would love a good few bruises, if not worse – broken bones, or something similar.

The Hobgoblin had been able to give his strike even more windup than before, blasting Verdant like a child would kick a stone on the ground. Yet somehow, despite there being more power, Verdant travelled less distance than last time. In fact, he hardly seemed to move at all. It was as though something was holding him in place.

Even the Hobgoblin must have been confused, for it was standing stockstill, when usually it would be racing after him, enjoying the juggle of the giant steel flesh ball that it was playing with. A whole second elapsed of nothing. The creature merely stared, and Verdant struggled to get back to his feet through the snow, his spear long forgotten.

All of a sudden, there was a soft plop, as a body collapsed into the deep snow, bleeding profusely, its hot blood steaming in the cold air.

"Huh?"

"Ehhhh?!"

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"Wait, what happened? I didn't see," Karesh said.

He wasn't the only one. Out of the entire group, it was likely only Oliver who had caught it. It had happened in a flash, after all. For all of Verdant's lack of precision and his clumsiness, there was a strength and speed to some of his strikes that likely eclipsed that of the traditional Second Boundary.

Those of Claudia's Blessing in that same realm wouldn't have been able to strike so strongly, at least. Oliver figured that it was almost certainly down to the nature of the Blessing that Bohemothia had given him.

But the fact remained, that landing the strikes, for Verdant, had always been a problem. If he could merely pin an enemy in place, he could puncture most plate, and even the thick hide of a Hobgoblin with relative ease, and shocking speed.