A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

It was short and sweet, but that seemed to be appropriate. Nila skipped happily away, shooting a triumphant look at Oliver, as if to say 'See, I didn't have to say nearly as much'. Oliver simply shrugged. Once he'd started speaking, the nervousness had faded. Making it any shorter wouldn't have saved him much grief.

With a sigh, Greeves dragged himself up next. The crowd was still waiting in anticipation, after all, and someone would have to dismiss them.

"Right," the man said, not showing a hint of the nervousness that Oliver and Nila had. "I'm going to be supporting the girl, as she does what she's asked to do. I doubt that you will want to speak to me directly, but aye, regardless, I'm here."

His blunt statement was met with mute acknowledgement, as one would expect. Greeves allowed it to sink in for a second longer, before he motioned with his hands to shoo them away.

"That's it," he said. "Ser Patrick only wanted to tell ya a few words, but you've made this big festival out of it. Go on now, get back to your lives, or you'll be getting in the way. He got a campaign to prepare for."

It was a role that only Greeves could have really fulfilled. No one was exactly fond of the man who so bluntly dismissed them, but someone had to do it, and Greeves didn't seem to mind much that he wasn't treated to the same warm reception as Nila and Oliver. In some way, he even seemed to relish the irritated looks he drew out of some people.

Still, even if he wasn't their most favourite person in the world, they still listened to him. The soldiers began to filter away first, fully understanding what it meant to be going on campaign – after all, half of them were following along with Oliver.

After them, the villagers began to filter away too, though they didn't do so without tossing a few glances back towards Oliver, and cupping their hands in prayer for him.

Oliver acknowledged those he could, but there were too many of them for him to catch everyone.

"Well, that's done," Greeves grunted. "I expect they'll last another three years now. They're a strange lot, they are. Looking at you as if you're some sort of saviour."

Greeves' words were met with wry smiles, as those around him saw through his words. "What?" The merchant said, annoyed. "I don't like those looks that you're giving me. Are you looking for a fight?"

"It's alright, Boss," Judas said, patting him on the shoulder. "We'll get through it."

"Get through what?" Greeves said hotly. "Don't you be talking down to me, you lump of meat. Don't you forget what you are – you're an up-jumped bodyguard and debt collector. You might be dressed up all nice, but that's what you are."

It would normally have been a digging comment, but Judas was able to take it with a smile, knowing full well that Greeves wasn't as angry as he expressed.

As they bickered, Oliver turned to Verdant. "You two arrived earlier than expected," he said, nodding at both him and Blackthorn. "Disobeying orders already, are we?"

Verdant grimaced. "Well, my Lord, such an affair was being made of your speech, that I could not allow myself to miss it. I do not regret that decision, but I am willing to receive any punishment that you wish to deliver."

"I was also curious," Blackthorn said, without the slightest hint of apology.

"Was your curiosity satisfied?" Oliver asked.

"It was," Blackthorn said, her face straight and emotionless, provoking another long sigh from Oliver.

…

…

The morning of departure had arrived. The villagers weren't told the exact hour that Oliver would be leaving, in an effort to keep the roads free from congestion. But with so many hundreds of soldiers marching with him, it seemed likely they were going to find out regardless.

He'd spent the previous day saying his goodbyes to some of the townspeople that he was close to. Mrs Felder had hosted him for dinner, thoroughly enjoying her role as chef. As ever, her food had been homely and delicious.

David had pestered Oliver with endless questions about swordsmanship, as he was growing accustomed to doing now that he'd grown up a bit, and Stephanie had stared at Blackthorn all evening as if she was some exotic object, much to Nila's embarrassment.

Now, with the crack of dawn, Oliver donned his armour and his surcoat, and he fastened Dominus' curved sword at his waist. He always found it to be a cathartic process, as he slowly and methodically ensured that each piece of armour was fastened in place, from his greaves to gauntlets.

With each buckle that he tightened, he fell more and more into the mind of a warrior, tasting the familiarity of the experience. He'd done this so many times by this point, after all, and each time he had returned victorious.

There came a knock at the door. "Come in," Oliver said.

"My Lord," the maid – Kirsty – bowed. "I have been sent by Lord Idris to see if you require any assistance with your armour."

Kirsty was a young woman of a Serving Class background that Verdant had found for Oliver. She was one of a handful of women that kept his household in order whilst he was away at the Academy.

"I am fine, thank you, Kirsty," Oliver said. He always tended to his armour alone.

"Very well," Kirsty said, hovering uncertainly at the door, distinctly awkward now that she did not have anything to do. Oliver broke the silence for her.

"I shall be counting on you whilst I am away," Oliver told her. "Nila and Greeves will require much assistance. As long as it isn't too much trouble, I would ask that you help them."

The woman brightened and bowed. "But of course, my Lord. Everything that I can tend to shall be tended to. When you return home, you will find your house well in order, and I am sure Master Greeves and Lady Felder will keep the village in order as well."