A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The Professor nodded. "I wonder if it is only because I have heard him say it so often that I believe it… But there is a change in the air. There's a different sort of look in the eyes of the people. Even my Serving Class retainers seem to have a hardness about them, as if they're hungry wolves. It makes me feel as if, around every corner, there lies uncertainty."

"In the Time of Tigers, the strong will rule," Oliver said. "At least, that is what Minister Hod is so fond of saying."

The woman spared him a glance. "Indeed," she said. "It makes me question the position I have, just as Gavlin questions his. It makes me question my station as a noble, and my humanity. What separates me from the likes of the peasantry? With every month that passes, I am less sure… But it is not as though I am terribly unique in this thought.

Just as my husband and Hod are thinking about it, so too have the historians thought about it before. Relative peace and stability do not rule forever. In times of change, what gives a man the right to rule? If a peasant were to arise with the strength to topple nobles, would he be satisfied with his lot? Would he be wrong to war against us? By what right do nobles rule?"

"Have you reached an answer?" Oliver replied.

"I have reached certainty," the Professor said, standing up, and dusting her trousers off from the dampness of the tree trunk. She turned to look at Oliver. "It is not my answer, but I see increasing certainty in it. Strength shall rule. In these times of change, that is the answer that I find."

There was something about that look that burned with the fire of certain expectations. Oliver was unsure how to respond to her. To his relief, it turns out that he did not need to say anything at all, for the Professor herself continued.

"You are uniquely placed, Oliver," Yoreholder said. "To grow strong so young, and to have the potential to grow stronger still… I would have said to you that there would come a day, where your strength would force you to shoulder certain responsibilities – but you are already in such a position, are you not? I have heard of what you have achieved in Solgrim. It is a remarkable thing.

The townspeople speak highly of you. You rule that little corner of the world with a just hand. I only wonder, do you seek to expand your lot?"

She looked him in the eyes when she asked that question. It seemed to Oliver as if the entire purpose of their conversation until now was simply to prepare the seedbed for what she asked then. That was what she truly wished to know.

He did not even need to think of his reply. "I do," he said.

The Professor nodded, as if it was the answer that she expected.

"Then I wish you luck," she extended her slender hand, with its long fingers, and Oliver looked at it a second, before taking it and shaking it. "From today on, we are no longer Professor and student. I am Lady Yoreholder, and you are Ser Patrick. As my husband did before me, I shall be leaving the Academy. I believe there to be more important pursuits awaiting my attention beyond this wall.

Seek me out, if you have need of me, Ser Patrick. The door of the Yoreholder estate shall keep an ear open for any requests that you send our way."

"Thank you, Lady Yoreholder. I shall keep that in mind," Oliver said. "The same, of course, extends to you. For what it is worth, though I have said it before, do ensure your husband Lord Yoreholder that I hold no ill will against him. I am thankful that he did not stand against me, and thankful still for his assistance in my hunt against the Boulder Crab."

"Very well, I shall tell him," Lady Yoreholder said. "I do believe that will mean a lot to him. That day has left him with more regrets than any other in his life. Farewell, Oliver Patrick. Do not allow yourself to be corrupted too thoroughly by what it is that you pursue. I await news of your many great exploits."

…

…

"Yoreholder spoke such things, did she?" Volguard said, when Oliver commented lightly on the fact that he had already met with the Professor before him, and Volguard had pressed the point about what they discussed.

"She did," Oliver said. "I was surprised."

"As am I," Volguard said. "We have shared a room and conversation on many occasions, but I would not have guessed that she harboured such thoughts. She was very much a huntress of a woman, always in pursuit of her next prey."

"I suppose now we can say for certain that she has found that next prey then," Oliver said.

Volguard cracked a smile. "Very good," he said. One of the things that Volguard had insisted on teaching Oliver, as well as his strategy, and his writing and reading, was a more proper manner of noble speech.

He had stated, more than a few times, that one of the marks of a well-bred noble was the ability to not just speak proper poetic speech, but to carry on the metaphor of a fellow before him, demonstrating his understanding of it.

"How do you feel about the situation you are in, Oliver?" Volguard asked. "Does the loss of your Passing Scroll truly not bother you?"

"The fact that it was taken from me bothers me. It would have been better to have made this decision on my own, if I had reached the same conclusion… though I suppose I did, by declaring myself before the High King before he had the chance to force me into it," Oliver said.

"Indeed," Volguard said. "That is your emotional nature. It is a weakness on the Battle board, but in true battle, I am no longer so sure if I would discourage it… You seem rational enough, at least. Your emotions seem to multiply the strength of your logical decisions and they give you the courage to carry them through."

"Is that approval, Professor? That's rare," Oliver said.