A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I shall second that," Hod said. "If you gather such power, Patrick, then I shall tell you that, and more, without the slightest hesitation.

Oliver spent his final few days at the Academy concluding the business that he had, and saying goodbyes to those that had been important during his time there, but even as he did so, Tavar's words hung his mind. Those had been the words of a starving man. Oliver didn't think he would ever hear their like from Tavar, and he especially didn't think that he would receive them himself.

At first, he'd been struck by the General's high opinion of him, but then he'd cast off that thought. It wasn't that the General thought that Oliver could do what he had asked of him. That was simply the condition, as impossible as it had been.

Even hearing it, Oliver found it difficult to wipe away the last of his irritation. It seemed unlikely to him that there could ever come a day when he would rival the power of the High King. He'd met a mere bodyguard, and the man had already been of the Fourth Boundary. Beyond such guards, the High King had whole armies and Silver Kings under his command.

There was no way that a normal man could rival that.

Yet each time the anger began to swim, the sheer size of the cliff that Tavar and Hod had tasked him with climbing inspired such awe and despair that the anger was blown away, unable to maintain itself. He spent those last few days lost in consideration, as he cut ties to a place that he had spent so long.

He nodded a farewell to the guardsmen on the gate. They, of course, were unaware that it would be the last nod of farewell that he gave them. Then, he took a carriage to Solgrim, hoping that the affairs he needed to set in order there would allow him to put his mind at ease.

He travelled alone for the first time in a while. Verdant was tending to his own affairs on the Idris estate and elsewhere, and Blackthorn was doing much the same, having just finished up at the Academy as Oliver had.

It gave him the time he needed to put his thoughts in order, and to check through his mental list of notes, as he considered all the things that he would need to put in order before he left for the battlefield.

He was almost certain that he'd said everything that needed to be said, and arranged everything that needed to be arranged, but the nagging feeling of uncertainty would not leave him.

He usually trusted his emotions to find what he was missing, but in this instance, he wasn't sure if that feeling of uncertainty was all that reliable. He wouldn't if it was not simply the sort of appreciation that everyone felt whenever they tried something new.

All the thinking he did seemed to rationalize that idea further, given that he still couldn't find any reason to be unsettled – he was quite sure that everything was in order.

When he arrived in Solgrim, he put the same question to Jorah.

"Am I missing something, Jorah?" Oliver second, in the very same instant that he dismounted from his carriage.

Jorah blinked at the suddenness of the question. It was a rarity that he was put in charge of guarding Oliver alone. Verdant was usually there to act as his advisor.

"I do not think you are, my Lord…" Jorah said uncertainly. "Though it would depend on what you are referring to. If you mean matters of defence, then all is proceeding smoothly. The new recruits have arrived, and are being put through training as we speak."

"Then the new cavalry has arrived as well?" Oliver asked.

"Indeed, my Lord," Jorah said. "It has grown rather packed here, to be frank. We've had to put up some temporary tents beyond the wall in order to accommodate the new soldiers."

Oliver nodded. He hadn't given much thought to what the turnover period would be like. He'd been vaguely aware that there would likely be an uncomfortable few days in which his village housed six hundred soldiers, but he hadn't really considered it properly.

He wondered whether that was the source of his discomfort. Overlooking that fact, and trusting that his retainers would handle it. Somehow, he didn't think so.

"Will you be wanting to see them?" Jorah asked. "They're eager. Surprisingly so. I think the nature of our men is rubbing off on them quicker than one would expect. Even the ex-slaves and the peasants seem enthusiastic about their duties."

"I will be meeting with them soon enough," Oliver said. "For now, I would like to hear what your eyes have seen, Jorah. Have you noticed anything as you've been watching over them? Have I missed anything?"

"…It has been rather what you would expect, my Lord," Jorah said, though he folded his arms and gave the question due consideration. "The transition hasn't gone seamlessly, but this is not the first time that we have trained new men. The Patrick forces, more than most forces in the Stormfront, are able to deal with newcomers. After all, what links even our most veteran of men is not their ranks.

It is our loyalty to you, my Lord, and your ideals."

"That…" Oliver was struck speechless by the rather straightforward remark by Jorah. It was very much the type of thing Verdant would say, but the fact that it came from the ever-renest Jorah made it all the more difficult for Oliver to deal with. He coughed into his hand, and decided to simply acknowledge Jorah's loyalty for what it was. "Thank you for your work, Jorah.

Having you and Kaya here in Solgrim has done much to put my worries at ease."

"Of course, my Lord. There would be no better place for us to serve you, now that we have graduated from the Academy. Karesh was a little put out for a while – I think he saw it as us usurping his place here – but even he has come to appreciate the rhythm that we have built up. The days are steady, and I can believe in what we're achieving here," Jorah said.

He paused a second, as if reading deeper into what Oliver had just said. "Oh, but of course, we shall not be staying here while you are on campaign, shall we?"