A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I did not think you to be the type of man who would waste your men on a futile endeavour," Oliver said. "A hundred of them would be falling with me, if I were to lose."

"Indeed," Skullic said, twisting his face, "you do not need to remind me of that fact. The King has dubbed you the Dollem force, and is insistent that such a great group remain together. He's clearly mocking us. Even if I were to send another two hundred men, we would end up in the same position – I'd have been directly refuting the order of the High King."

"The odds aren't impossible though, are they?" Oliver asked, ever so carefully.

Skullic tapped his finger against his desk, listening to the metallic clink of his ring off it. He paused his tapping after a moment, and twisted the ring off, showing it to Oliver. It had the sigil of his house emblazoned on it – a heavy ring of gold. "Courage, Patrick – what does it mean to you?

I've never run away from a battle, but I could not even give this ring to a woman whose heart means more than the world to me."

"I know not about courage," Oliver said quickly. "I can only endure. It doesn't take courage for me to do that, nor even strength of will. To endure would simply be to do as I always have."

The General evaluated him ever so carefully. He placed the ring on the desk with a clink. "In other words, this is who you are. You need not change to confront it, or attack some sort of extra tendril to yourself. A man is only as solid as his true self is. Any front will always be temporary, and if one is to confront the relentlessness of the sea, temporary will never serve…"

He considered it, looking at his ring. "How much would you sacrifice for what you wish, Ser Patrick?"

"Everything that I am," Oliver said, "I've a right to no more."

"…Good," the General decided eventually, clutching his ring in a fist. "Then if you prove to me that such a thing is possible, I might follow you, and do the same. I might dare to risk it all for a single woman's hand."

"That sounds ominous, General…" Oliver said, more than a little put-off. "I've need of your support beyond this – if I survive it."

"Then prove to me that you're capable of earning it," Skullic said. "I see greatness in you, young Patrick – do not let it be snuffed out so soon."

He stood up from his seat suddenly and looked towards the door, as though anticipating something. A moment later, a knock came, followed by a greeting, and a quick hand to the door, as Mary returned, with a basket covered in cloth.

"Oh – Daemon. That's unnerving. Did you expect me?" Mary said, caught on the backfoot by Daemon's rather intense glaring.

"The boy and I will be going out for a time," Skullic said. "Watch over the office for me. If anyone comes by, refuse them entry, no matter who they might be."

There was a seriousness to his voice, a resoluteness that bound to his already striking figure and made him seem even more imposing. Mary nodded sternly, adapting to the mood. She seemed almost a soldier herself, in the way she straightened up, and exuded resilience. Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

"Come," Skullic said, motioning next for Oliver to follow him.

"Where are we going?" Oliver asked. It was the first time in all his meetings with Skullic that the General had ever bothered to take him anyway. Of course, this too was the first time that he had seen the General looking quite so troubled. He seemed to genuinely believe the mission to be a death sentence.

"To train," the General said.

It was a sentence that Oliver had waited months to hear from a General, and now it was being delivered ever so casually. All he'd learned about leadership, he'd had to figure out himself, for the most part, despite travelling all the way to the Academy in the hopes that he might find out more about it.

Now, even in the midst of the situation that Oliver had once more found himself in, he couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement, as he walked behind the tall young General, clad in his weighty armour.

…

…

Skullic brought Oliver all the way to the front of the Academy, out through the main entrance, and into the main courtyard, where carriages were meant to be waiting. Instead, off to the side, there were a hundred armed guardsmen, their spears pressed up against their soldiers, as they stood to perfect attention, evidently having been arranged to stand as such long in advance.

Oliver cautiously followed as Skullic led him without pause right to the front of that square of men. The boy had developed a particular wariness of the guards, and for good reason. He could have forgiven the fact that some amongst their number had been tasked with assignation, if not for the air of distaste that their order – by and large – continued to shoot his way.

Even now, as they stood to attention, any who dared to glance his way could not hide whatever it was that they felt for him. None were more convinced of Oliver's impure heart than the guardsmen themselves.

"Eyes front!" Skullic barked, as Oliver for the first time was allowed to hear his General's voice.

The atmosphere changed within an instant. It looked as though they'd all been standing up perfectly upright, as uniform and as disciplined as one could hope any soldier to be – and yet Skullic had managed to get more out of them. Somehow, they were even straighter, their chests puffed out even further. They were less men now, and more statues primed for the singular purpose of obeying their general.

"Close the ranks!" Skullic demanded. There was a step of distance between each man, as was typical when they were parading. It allowed for their officer to walk through the square to perform an inspection. At his order, that distance immediately closed. What had been a group of a hundred evenly spread men soon became a hardened rock of densely packed warriors.