A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Are you ready, my Lord?" Verdant asked.

"I am," Oliver said. "Goodbye, Nila. Take care of the village – take care of yourself."

…

…

It was a carriage that Oliver was confined to as he made his way beyond Ernest to meet up with Lombard and the first fragments of Lord Blackwell's gathering army. It tossed him to and fro as they wound their way over the bumpy country roads, along routes that were not so often travelled.

Usually, from Ernest, travellers would go west, or south, down towards the Capital, but their destination was east. It was likely the most traffic that the eastern road had seen all month.

The villagers had rushed to see them off, even though there had been no announcing it. They cheered the marching soldiers, and cheered for Oliver, almost celebrating his victory in advance of the occurrence. Oliver was suddenly beginning to feel an awful lot of pressure.

His heart pounded with thoughts of the battle. He was quite sure that he had all the tools he needed to perform as he was expected to, yet lost in thought, doubts crept in. They urged him to practise, and do something with his time, other than merely sitting and waiting. Surely he would be rusty when he arrived if he simply sat around for the entire duration.

"You have letters, my Lord," Verdant reminded Oliver as they shared the carriage together. Oliver had told Verdant to remind him of the letters, since he had been so insistent on putting off reading them. "It seems to me that now is likely the best time to read them. When you get to the battlefront, you will not have time to be distracted by such matters."

"Letters?" Blackthorn asked, curious. "Why have you left them so long? Whose seals are on them?"

"There are no seals," Oliver replied. "A fitting excuse to leave them, no?"

"I suppose," Lasha said. "Though I do think it to be quite rude."

"Rude? From you? Your face is a mask, Lasha. Perhaps if you learned to smile a little more, I would listen to your counsel about rudeness," Oliver said.

"…That is most cruel. You know how I've been working on expressing myself better," Lasha said. "Besides, not smiling isn't rude… It just means I'm saving my smile for when there is something to smile about."

"Is that right?" Oliver said with a sigh, reaching for the first of the letters as Verdant held them out to him. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to at least have a look…"

With a swift motion from his finger, he opened the envelope from the top, and pulled the folded sheet of paper out, preparing himself for something quite troublesome.

He was surprised, however, to see handwriting that he recognized. "Skullic…" Oliver said aloud. "Why didn't he just use his seal? I would have read it far sooner."

He briefly began to scan the letter, to see if he could ascertain what it was about. Certain sentences jumped out at him more than others, and he read those first.

"I will be leaving the Academy," one of the sentences read. "It seemed prudent to have this letter sent without a seal. It supposed that it would make both our lives less troublesome if as little of my intentions were known as possible."

"The pressure has been on for me to leave the Academy for a good while. Now seems to be a fitting chance. My estates require my attention, as do my armies. Hod predicts more wars to be on the horizon, and I am in agreement with him."

"I intended this letter to serve as a brief warning, but now that I am writing it, I suppose I might offer some encouragement as well. You have the tools necessary to prove yourself in that field of battle. Be the Sword that Blackwell needs. Do not allow him to crumble.

If we lose Blackwell, I fear the balance of power in the country will stand to tumble, and you and I will be in for a great deal of trouble."

"What does it say, my Lord?" Verdant asked, correctly judging that Oliver had finished scanning it through.

"He intends to leave the Academy," Oliver said. "First Professor Yoreholder, and now him… They're losing two good people."

"There are greater problems afoot, I suppose," Verdant said. "I think Skullic's decision to be the right one. He was already ostracized enough at the Academy. I do not imagine it was a pleasant experience there for his new wife, either."

"…I think the latter part of that is likely the real reason why he's moving," Oliver said.

"The two of them are very much in love, aren't they?" Lasha said, tilting her head to the same, like a doll trying to understand the emotion that the two of them must be feeling. In truth, Oliver found the gesture entirely disconcerting.

"Indeed," Oliver said. "Almost too in love. Skullic is a reckless man, at times. One would never think it when you play him on the Battle board."

"But then, I suppose, that is why the two of you get along," Verdant said. "Though he has never admitted it, the good General is quite clearly prone to fits of impulsiveness as well. I think there to be strength in a character that allows for such moments. For Skullic to follow his heart, as well as his duties… It's almost inspiring."

"I think it's Mary that deserves the praise," Oliver said. "She's far too kind a woman. She's about the only person in the world that could keep Skullic in check. Without her, I doubt Skullic would have been able to find anyone suitable."

"I think I might be in agreement," Verdant said. "Would you care for the second letter?"

"I think I would," Oliver said, plucking it once more from Verdant's outstretched hand. This time, he considered the envelope more carefully. What he'd thought to be something troublesome had instead been a letter from Skullic. It seemed quite certain that this letter too would be of similar import. Oliver almost regret putting it off for so long.

He only hoped that the contents of this letter would not be affected by the time he'd taken to read it.