A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

And so Oliver ended up telling them about the trial. Which led to him telling them about the assassination attempt beforehand, and then all the matters that involved the Patrick title, along with their theories that it was the High King that lay behind them. He reiterated the story flatly, his own voice seemingly disconnected from the events as he retold it.

"Gods be damned!" Greeves said, slamming his fist onto the table. "That wasn't how it was meant to go! I thought you were on the fast track, boy! I thought, if anything, you were better off than ever before… Who could have known that the title that you were receiving would be so tainted?"

"I think probably the fact that the noble who gave it to me had exiled himself to the woods," Oliver murmured, with only the slightest trace of humour.

"Goodness…" Nila said, her eyes misting over again as she looked up at him. "You went through all that alone? It must really have been hard…"

A lump formed in Oliver's throat, as she said the same line once again. This time, though, he was able to fight past it. He patted her head. "It's fine. Not all nobles are so quick to believe such drivel. I've allies of my own sort there.

I mentioned my retainers before, did I not? Verdant Idris is amongst them. He's a capable man."

"Sorry! What the pissin' fuck?" Greeves shouted, louder than he'd talked all evening. The guards at the doors to the room flinched and looked in. He waved them away with an annoyed gesture. Even Nila and Judas were looking at him oddly. "You two don't recognize the name then?"

Judas shrugged. "Verdant Idris..? Sounds like a posh fella to me. 'Course I wouldn't know him."

"Me too…" Nila said. "The only nobles I really know are Lord Blackwell, his son Ferdinand and then Captain Lombard."

"Then, let me put it in terms you pups can understand. Idris is a Lord's title. Verdant Idris must be the man's son. It's the equivalent of having bloomin' Ferdinand Blackwell of all people kneeling to you. Just how in the name of the Gods did you manage to pull that off?" Greeves said. "You, who's always been so fricken' upfront with people.

There's no chance that worked on bloomin' nobles."

Oliver shrugged. "I don't understand it either, but I'm grateful nonetheless. As I mentioned, there's Princess Asabel too who proved invaluable at the trial, though I don't know if I can really call her an ally anymore… There's also Lady Blackthorn and her retainers. General Skullic, who I do missions for. A few professors."

"Hang on, missions?"

A salient question, that led to another series of stories from Oliver, as he told them of the missions that he'd begun to do for General Skullic, as well as the hundred men that he'd been rewarded with, that would now fight under his command.

On that same topic, he ended up speaking too about how he was attempting to gather coin by slaying monsters and working with an alchemist. A topic that got Greeves more than a little worked up. By the time he'd finished talking, the wood on the fire had burned down again, and Judas had to throw an armful of logs on to keep going.

Strangely, what met him when he'd finished was a long stretch of silence. The three of them looked exhausted as they listened.

Eventually, Nila spoke up. "Of course… I mean. That does make sense… You're still you, after all. No. You're more you. You said you're stronger now, and I think I can see it, though I don't understand it.

All these powerful people, looking towards you, and finding a use for you… It's incredible." Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire

"How do you even sleep at night, boy?" Greeves asked vaguely. It seemed more of a rhetorical question. Oliver simply shrugged in reply. He slept well when sleep was available, and when it wasn't, he simply didn't sleep.

"To think that you're already back on the battlefield again," Judas said. "That Lombard assured us that there would be a good few years before you were forced into it. That nobles needed to be eighteen before they were allowed to fight."

"The High King allowed us a little leeway in that," Oliver replied.

"But it works out for you, is what you're saying…" Greeves murmured. "Aye… Aye, I suppose it would. If you're impressive enough that a General gives you a hundred men after your first battle, a battlefield is where you need to be."

"Greeves!" Nila said crossly. "Even for you, that's insensitive. Beam's the same age as me. He shouldn't be out fighting for his life so often."

"You put it rightly, girl," Greeves said. "If the politics is as dire as Beam makes it sound, he's literally fighting for his life. The battlefield is his means to do that. Gods be damned… You've some cunning people around you, boy. The fact that you haven't been completely flattened the second they turned on you – that's something."

"I still don't understand why though," Nila said. "Beam – or Oliver – has done nothing but good for people, hasn't he? For as he is, he's already achieved so much and been recognized by so many. Why would the High King not reward that?"

"He doesn't see the boy, he sees the father," Greeves replied. "I know that sentiment only too well… You kill a man, and you have to take the whole family with him, lest they start looking for revenge… Well, I suppose it's comforting in a way. I knew that the higher-ups were just as much dogs as the rest of us. Now I don't feel the slightest lick of guilt about it.

I'm going to use them for all they're worth, I am."

"But how..?" Judas said. "It might be a stupid question, but what are we meant to do? It's the High King, after all."

"We?" Oliver said, raising an eyebrow.

Judas looked offended. "What, you're not including me?"

"He's right boy," Greeves put in. "Every soul in this village is now yours. Their struggles are your struggles. If you're being targeted, it's the same as a knife being held to the back of everyone in the village. If there's a way for them to fight, they're going to fight."