A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"…Verdant," Oliver said slowly, looking up. "Just what have you done?"

The priest had trouble hiding his smile. "But of course, it would have been too much to put the commission of the whole set of armour down to the Princess. I merely suggested, in several different letters, that there might be certain appropriate gifts to be made, to celebrate your new acquisition of land, and your new acquisition of command."

Oliver looked at all the pieces splattered over his bed. The priest had done something incredibly troublesome. This time, he reached for the gauntlets and undid the string, his heart beating nervously, as he tried to guess who he would have to thank next. This time, on each gauntlet, he saw his sigil, as well as the sigil of the Blackthorn House – a stag with antlers of jagged thorns.

Once more, the design of these was different. They favoured black in their embellishments rather than blue, and the still and the engraving work was harsher, more militaristic in its manner. A different piece of a different world.

Next, it was his greaves. Here he saw much the same as before, though there was a different sigil, that of the Idris House. "Verdant, I thought you said you would abstain from gifting me anything…"

"I didn't – my father did," Verdant said, looking increasingly pleased with himself as he laid out all the loopholes that he'd travelled through.

Piece by piece, he laid the whole set of armour out. There weren't as many parts as there could have been – he didn't need to be a juggernaut, after all. It would have hindered his speed. His only real significant additional piece was his chainmail, and with it, the full set was done. Apparently, the chainmail too had come from Princess Asabel, and had been constructed as a pair.

Verdant helped him into it – not that Oliver particularly needed the help. He marvelled at the fact that everything fits like a glove. Once again, it seemed, Verdant's sharp mind had been able to get the better of Oliver. He'd used the measurements that Blackthorn had taken of him all that time ago, and then added a few of his own, that he'd managed to take everso discreetly.

The result was this, a suit of armour that he'd never expected to have.

"Ah, there are two more things," Verdant said, passing Oliver another parcel. This, compared to the rest that he'd been given, felt remarkably light. "That one was from General Skullic, it seems."

Oliver once more opened the package, revealing a loose surcoat, meant to go over his armour. He allowed it to unravel itself, noting that its colour was not the same purple as General Skullic's men wore. Instead, this was a deep red, with only a sleeve of purple across the shoulder, a sleeve of blue across the other shoulder, and then a small rectangle of gold extending down the middle.

In the centre of each colour was a different sigil, corresponding to the appropriate houses that Oliver shared connections and alliances with. Then, in the centre of it all, on both the front and back, the sigil of his own house loomed large and dominant, big enough to take up the majority of the cloth.

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It cut an imposing sight, when it was made to be as big as that. It was an entirely different sentiment from the smaller versions that he'd seen on the armour. The beast, ambiguous in its species as it was, seemed to ooze that very ferocity that Verdant had attributed to it, and the deep red of the cloth around it only lent further to that image.

"Other surcoats have been distributed to your retainers," Verdant said. "I myself will be wearing one." He seemed expressly pleased at that fact. "Also, a number of them have been sent to Solgrim, as you requested."

"Done so quickly…" Oliver murmured. Though time was already running out for them, he'd expected it to take even longer, given how overwhelmed Mary had seemed by the task the last that he'd seen her.

"Indeed. Skullic's retainer seemed rather proud of them," Verdant said. "She was an unusually expressive woman. I can see why the General is particularly fond of her."

He spoke as he helped Oliver put his surcoat on over the top of his armour, thus hiding some of the engravings that had been painstakingly made beneath it. "My Lord, I must say… You look striking."

The priest sounded moved. "You're finally dressed as you deserve to be – as a true warrior. A dragon of the battlefield."

"That name belongs to someone else," Oliver said, his smile twisting into a frown. Excessive goodwill, as such that he'd received, served to make him feel distinctly uncomfortable, knowing how he would struggle to pay it back.

Verdant understood that about him, but nevertheless, he moved forward with his gifts. "There is one last thing, my Lord," Verdant said.

"I do recall you saying," Oliver said. "Go on then, show me what's got you smiling so much."

The priest produced another parcel, this one's contents more than evident from its shape.

"A sword…" Oliver guessed.

"Indeed," Verdant said. "This particular gift is from Captain Lombard. He sent it along with a short apology. He'd been trying to restore the blade using his own coin and connections, out of respect for the man that once wielded it. Apparently, he didn't think it would take as long to deliver to you as it did."

Hearing that made Oliver's heart race even more. Even though he was troubled by the gifts, he was just as excited by them. He wanted to try battling in this armour, to see how it would change his style of fighting. He could feel numerous possibilities building up out of it, now that he wouldn't have to defend every single minor strike that came his way. The sword too brooked the same excitement.

He'd privately wondered where it had ended up, but he'd never dared to ask.

The Idris man handed it to him with two hands, treating it reverently. Oliver accepted it with the same reverence. There seemed a peculiar weight to the blade, from more than just its metal. Even covered in paper as it was, he could feel its presence.