A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Very well," Oliver said after a pause. "I am in agreement, and I extend the same to you. Stay as much the same Nila Felder as you can afford to – the same Nila beloved by so many. And if you do decide to marry whilst I'm away – it seems likely with all the requests coming your way – then be sure it to be a man worthy of you."

He'd thought he'd been rather level with that request of his, but Nila's slap came searching for him regardless. He traced the strike with both Claudia's and Ingolsol's eyes – they saw far more than he. He saw both how he could dodge, and how he could counterattack, tearing apart Nila's defence.

Before he could, however, a more logical part of him kicked in. He diplomatically accepted the slap sent his way, and the room echoed with a resounding THWACK.

Both Judas and Greeves looked stunned. Greeves, if anything, looked distinctly uneasy, as though he was afraid he was about to witness a murder.

"Fool!" Nila declared.

"Captain," Oliver said, saluting the man. It was one of the few men that Oliver had come to respect, though he saw little enough of him these days, with Blackwell's campaign to the East keeping him away for the longest time.

"Captain," Lombard responded, echoing his salute.

"Captain," Tolsey did the same, with a similar level of stiffness.

"Or at least, that is what I hear they call you these days," Lombard said, breaking the stiff formality with one of his rare small smiles, cracking his great stone mask of a face.

"Only those that are forced to," Oliver said with a smile of his own.

Lombard nodded with a small amount of approval. "It is good to see that your success hasn't gone all the way to your head, though I do note that it has changed the way you walk. You walk the swagger of a confident man."

"He has earned it, has he not, Captain?" Tolsey said. "It is good to see you again, Oliver. Three years, that's what it's been, eh? I would say that you've changed, but that would be an understatement. You're practically unrecognizable. You even speak differently."

"Time does that, I've heard, Commander," Oliver said wryly. "It's done wonders for your beard, though. You had length before, but you never had thickness. Is that what age does to a man?"

Tolsey pawed at his thick blonde beard bashfully. He was clearly quite proud of it. It was one of the few things that worked to conceal his youthfulness, though, in truth, he wasn't quite so young anymore. It wouldn't be long before he passed into his thirties.

"How has the sword been?" Lombard asked. It had become a customary question at this point. Oliver's smile faded and was replaced by a degree of sombreness, as he grabbed at the hilt.

"It's as good a guide as it's always been," Oliver said, "though I wonder if I live up to its standards quite as well as I should have."

"…Have you done something that you ought to be ashamed of, with that sword in hand?" Lombard asked, narrowing his eyes.

"No," Oliver said calmly, "but each time that I draw it, my reasons for doing so seem to be less and less clear."

"That might be mistaken for arrogance, Young Patrick," Lombard said. "Is the liquor of victory growing to lose its taste? Is that what you claim?"

"I claim that I have grown disillusioned with who I win those victories for. Or at least I was. That problem has seemed to be solved in advance," Oliver said.

"If that is your problem, then you will find it solved," Lombard agreed. "I received your letter, and Skullic predictions were not wrong. If it be a matter of the liege or King that you serve, then you shall find no Lord better than Lord Blackwell, on that I can pledge my life."

Oliver nodded. Even Dominus, as disillusioned with the state of the Stormfront as he had been, had been nearly willing to fight, if it was on the side of Lord Blackwell. He clearly held an immense respect for the integrity of the man. As did Oliver. Despite not seeing much of the Lord, his assistance had proved pivotal many times before.

"…What is it that you are referring to?" Tolsey dared to ask. A single glance from Lombard was enough to silence that question out of him, however. Apparently, the Captain had not told him yet, and so Oliver did not either.

"I've heard you wish to go to the Capital," Lombard said, moving past Tolsey's question.

"Indeed," Oliver agreed. That was why they were meeting now, at Oliver's residence in Ernest. He'd dared to write to Lombard and warn him of his intentions, so that he might warn Lord Blackwell.

"Lord Blackwell is of the same opinion as you. He is well aware that he is likely to be sent back, but he is almost certain that you shall be dragged along with him. He said these words exactly. 'A man ought to be able to see his General's face when he is given the order.' I do believe that he'd use that same argument on the High King himself, if your presence was to be disputed," Lombard said.

"However – counselled him away from such things."

"What? Why?" Oliver said. He only felt the slightest flickering of anger at the sudden rejection. He knew Lombard too well to guess that he'd intentionally be trying to make his life more difficult.

"My Lord Blackwell should not be placed in the position to make such demands," Lombard said. "Do understand, he has 15,000 lives under his banner. If he does not petition for all he needs, those lives might all very well come to an end. He feels that responsibility keenly. He is not to be forced into an added responsibility when his foremost goal is far weightier," Lombard said. "Do understand."

"…I know you to be right, Lombard," Oliver said. "I know very well that my request is an immature one. There's no reason for it. If I were to be moving strategically, I wouldn't even voice that thought aloud… However…"