A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I told you not to do it, you know…" Oliver said, grabbing a larger piece that he was sure was a breastplate. "It makes me uncomfortable to have my retainer feel obliged to lend me coin."

"Oh, no, you are mistaken, my Lord. I headed your command. This is no lending of coin from I," Verdant said. "It would have been a grave mistake for me to go against the word of my master."

"Indeed it would have been," Oliver agreed, but now he was frowning. "So who then are they from… and how on earth did you manage to wheedle someone else into fulfilling your desires?"

He soon had the answer to that question himself. The armour had been delivered in padding crates, along with a carrier of goods, on the back of his wagon. Now, it was mere paper that stopped Oliver from looking any further inside, and soon enough, he was undoing the string that held it all together, and revealing the chestplate for himself.

"A fine piece…" He murmured, a little in awe. It was true steel, polished to such a gleam that he could see his head reflecting in the shoulder armour once he revealed it. Whilst that might have been more than acceptable for a normal man, apparently, mere polished metal wasn't good enough for whoever had gifted it to him. The metal was wrought with engravings, tight rings around every joint.

Subtle, but stylish, and evidently expensive.

"As to be expected from a Princess – her tastes are perfect," Verdant said approvingly, seeing the piece. "Though she didn't include the… Oh, no, my mistake – she has. The Patrick sigil sits there proudly."

He pointed to a small circle, engraved just below the neck, as though it were a pendant. There sat a particular animal, with jewels for its eyes, and a ferocious look on its face. "…What is that?" Oliver asked. Stay updated with My Virtual Library Empire

He had never seen the sigil of House Patrick before. After all, what was there to put it on? Dominus had never worn clothes much better than that of the typical commoner, nor had he worn armour or carried flags. The only place a sigil could have been was on the hilt of that sword of his, but Oliver didn't think he'd ever seen one.

Thus, even though presented with a ferocious-looking animal, and was told that it was his sigil, he couldn't guess at first sight what it might be.

There was a face that could have been feline, or it could have been canine. The only unmistakable thing about it were the glowing red eyes, and the widened fangs. If Oliver was to give a name to it, it would have simply been 'beast'. But what noble house would have the sigil of a beast?

"Is it your first time seeing it rendered as such?" Verdant asked. "I suppose that makes sense, considering your upbringing. I had a difficult time finding the sigil myself – for I'd never seen it. It seemed that when the Patrick House first began, it had once been the sigil of a wolf."

"So it's a wolf, then?" Oliver asked.

"It was," Verdant said, "though some few hundred years ago, it seems that there was a marriage to a woman from the east, and as such, the sigil was changed temporarily to one of a fox – or so it appeared to me. It was a distinctly feline creature, but not quite anything I recognized. The current version, in its ambiguity, is meant to be a combination of the two.

Apparently, some wise woman said that it was meant to symbolize ferocity, in its purest form."

"Ferocity?" Oliver murmured.

"Fitting, is it not? A sentiment, rather than an animal, or an object. The Patrick House might be the only one to have ever given it such thought. I could find no more examples despite my research of such a thing taking place," Verdant said.

Oliver admired the sigil, running his finger across it. Indeed, as Verdant said, it did seem fitting. Ambiguous ferocity, allowing the vessel to manifest it however they wished. A peculiarly open sigil. An admiration of strength, in whatever form the inheritor chose to express it.

"It is," Oliver said. "Princess Asabel had all of this made? It must have cost a fortune…"

None of the details were lost on Oliver. The jewels – though they'd been used sparingly, apparently with the knowledge that Oliver wouldn't care too much for them – as well as all the intricate engravings, it must have taken days upon days of a master craftsmen's hand to make.

"Indeed. Though, that is not to say it doesn't benefit her in some small fraction of a way. Have you noticed this secondary crest, my Lord?" Verdant said, pointing just below the sigil of the beast, with its fangs bearded, there was the dragon of the Pendragon House, sitting calmly, with its legs crossed.

It was clearly different from the dragon that Oliver was used to seeing, sat upon its haunches, jaws parted, ready to breathe fire. "Princess Asabel has settled on the crest of her branch. A tamer version of the previous dragon."

"I see…" Oliver said. The sigil was so small that it almost seemed embarrassing to be seen. At a quick glance, it wasn't at all obvious. The sigil of the beast was far more likely to draw the eye, what with the jewels that embossed it. "She means to declare our allegiance, in some small form?"

"Indeed," Verdant said, nodding.

"Once more that seems to benefit me more than her," Oliver said, sighing. "I suppose I'd better see what else she has done…"

This time, he reached for the helmet piece, guessing which it was from its shape. He pulled back the paper, revealing a piece of different shining steel, this one edged with bits of blue, and embroidered in markedly different ways. There again, right above the centre of the eyebrows, was the same Patrick sigil, done differently.

Just underneath it – now that Oliver knew where to look – was the sigil of an owl, that of the Blackwell house. This one was bordered more boldly, with small jewels for itself, indicating a hint of General Blackwell's pride.