A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1331 - 1331: Duties to be Done - Part 1

"I'm… fine…" Tom grunted. "Few stitches… It'll be alright. See the carriage… defended."

"So, Captain," Oliver said. "Would you like to die, or will you surrender, and admit your part in all this? I wonder how much they paid you? Or were you threatened?"

"I have no reason to answer to you, Patrick," the man sneered. "You may have achievements, but you're only a Captain, the same as I."

"Ah, yes," Oliver agreed. But he turned the sword in his hand, and made a show of looking down upon it, as if receiving a revelation. "But the difference is – I am far your superior in combat. Who holds the power here, Captain?

If our titles are not the deciding factor, and you believe that there is no reason to kneel to me based on that authority, would you like to test the authority of my blade instead? Would you like to see that which even made a General kneel?"

"You will not see me cowed," the man vowed. He had his hand on the hilt of his own sword, as his own men chose Sergeant Tom over him, and began to lower their spears in his direction. "You may have slain a General, Patrick, but that does not mean that you will best me. I know your type.

To secure the big kill, you wait in the shadows, until the moment is ripe, and then you pluck them off when they are not looking. Well, I see you now, in the light of day, and my sword will not miss."

He pulled it from its scabbard, and levied it at Oliver's chest. "A traitor, then," Oliver said, feeling the significance of the steel pointed at him. "Lord Ferdinand is going to be most disappointed when he hears this news. You've brought shame upon him."

"Do not speak as if you have already won," the Captain hissed, the red tentacles of his beard dancing, as he pulled his sword back, and stepped his foot forward, for the mightiest of swings.

"Ah, but I have," Oliver said, finishing his slash, and giving his sword a flick to rid it of the blood. The Captain's head fell to the floor but a second later. A clean kill – that was the only mercy that Oliver could offer a man of his rank.

"Can you stand, Sergeant Tom?" Oliver said, standing over the wounded man.

With an expression of great pain, and a ghostly white palour on his skin, the Sergeant was helped to his feet.

"You're a man of rare honour," Oliver said to him, not needing to force the compliment. "I wonder how many others would have stood firm, when the roots of treachery had already run so deep?"

"…I did my duty… nothing more," Sergeant Tom said. "And even that, I've done poorly. I take no pleasure in all this."

"Nor should you," Oliver said. "I fear there is work to be done. You have a duty now, to see this reported to your Lord in Ferdinand. He will want to know what has happened here, for it will be his duty next, to see the corruption torn apart by its roots. If he should wonder the reason why we were attacked this day, you can give him this one. That carriage holds Daniel Harmon and his family.

It was they that we were attacked for. Not the Lord and Lady you were so intent on defending."

The Sergeant's eyebrow twitched in shock, but he didn't embarrass himself by asking any further questions. He dipped his head instead. "What a pain, Ser Patrick… What a pain."

They were allowed free of the Ernest gates, with Sergeant Tom taking command of the remaining men. Daniel Harmon and his family were granted the relative safety of the plains, where an enemy could be seen coming from miles away, as long as he did not stoop to crouch in the long grasses.

Only when they arrived in Solgrim, and the carriages were safely sent away, having been unloaded, did they allow themselves even the smallest opportunity to relax. Those two men had received the fullest weight of Oliver's suspicion for the entirety of the return journey. If any were to attack them then, he'd thought it would have been the drivers.

But whether it was because he'd been watching them, or whether they were truly innocent, no attacks had occurred.

"If I had known what would come of all this, I would not have accepted," Harmon said grimly, even as he thanked Oliver for his protection. "If you had not been there, Ser Patrick, the three of us would have perished. As a man, I ought not to have put my family in that position."

"The scale of it was beyond both our expectations, I fear," Oliver said. "It is Greeves that you have to thank, for giving me the warning that ordinary men would not be sufficient. When you see him – and I'm sure you will soon enough – you can praise him for his mentioning it."

Oliver had meant that last part as a joke, but it did not even evoke a smile from Harmon. He nodded grimly, and retreated inside the new walls of his home, barring the door firmly shut against the world.

"Well," Oliver said. "It could have gone worse, I suppose. We didn't lose our charges, but a mess was indeed made."

"It was unavoidable, I think, my Lord," Verdant said. "When the enemy is blatant in their attack, we must be blatant in our defence."

"But we failed to get all them. Their archer on the rooftop still remains at large, and I'd suppose that there were others in that crowd waiting for their opportunity. It's a dangerous world that Lord Ferdinand lives in. I do not envy his position," Oliver said.

"Truly," Verdant agreed. "But it is not as though the Guild would be incapable of sending agents here… We must be mindful. I mislike the need for suspicion, but it seems that there is no other option."

"Indeed," Oliver said. "That might be Greeves' territory, after all. As... far as the man does go, he knows the mind of our enemy better than we. He'll be able to match them more freely. Unless we can meet our foe directly on the battlefield, we are likely to be outmatched.

If not for your return, Lady Blackthorn, I imagine we might have been outmatched today as well."