A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1333 - 1333: Duties to be Done - Part 3

Oliver had to suppress a shudder. To hear Blackthorn, of all people, call him that – it was a sensation like the tickle of a cold wind on the back of his neck. He wondered how long it would take to get used to.

"Very well," Oliver said. "Then I accept. It seems I've acquired another thing that I am unworthy of."

"If there is a problem, my Lord, then I shall do my utmost to solve it," Lasha said, standing, and sheathing her blade.

Oliver eyed her. He wondered if she knew what she was doing. It was hard to tell, behind that mask of hers, when she was being teasing.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?" Lasha said, tilting her head.

"You're enjoying that title, aren't you?" Oliver said. "Am I being made fun of? Did you cross your fingers whilst you swore, or something?"

"Naturally, I enjoy addressing my Lord as 'my Lord,' what retainer would not? It is my honour," Lasha said. "And please do not sully my heart-felt swearing with the suggestion that it was a trick of some sort."

"…How are Amelia and Pauline going to react to what you've done?" Oliver murmured. "Their own situations have grown considerably more complicated.

"Oh. I already asked them what they'd think," Lasha said.

"And?"

"…For some reason, Amelia seemed excited about it," Lasha said.

"Now that just makes me suspicious," Oliver said. "That girl has some irritating little plan in mind, I am sure. And Pauline?"

Lasha said nothing.

"Understandable. She has ever been the most sensible of the two," Oliver said. "Why are you so taken to silence now, Verdant? Ought you not have interrupted at some point sooner there?"

"My Lord, is it not the duty of the mighty to allow for the reverence he will naturally compel in those around him?" Verdant said.

If he had expected Verdant to say anything sensible, then he was sorely disappointed. The man was quite capable of saying the strangest of things, with the straightest of faces, and the calmest of temperaments, and almost convincing anyone who might have listened that what he spoke was not at all the act of madness that it truly was, and rather something far closer to an immense amount of wisdom.

It was such a line that Verdant delivered him, enough to exhaust Oliver, and make his shoulders sag, and make his mind reject what he was even hearing. It felt around the edges of the meaning of the words, and then rejected them entirely before they could form a sentence in his mind and render him any closer to convinced, and he knew he certainly would be if he had listened to Verdant any longer.

Lasha, however, had fallen for the trap, hook line and sinker, and she nodded along with the great priest of Bohemothia, as if she was right on the edge of taking notes as to what he was saying.

"Regardless," Verdant concluded. "I shall be most happy to work with you once more, Lady Blackthorn. We have ever been comrades, but now we are comrades by oath. I hope that together we might be able to better assist our Lord."

The Lady of Blackthorn gave a profound nod. The sort of nod that would have been paired well with the swilling of a wine glass. "Indeed, Lord Idris. I do believe that he needs all the help that he can get."

Naturally, when Greeves later found out what had happened, despite being the twisted little stunted growth that he was – as Oliver saw him, anyway – he at least had the sense to put a hand to his head in exasperation.

He heard the matter that had occurred with Harmon, and he didn't sound all that surprised, but he did at least have the grace to look troubled. "I… would say that I warned you, but it seems as if I didn't warn you far enough."

"We handled it," Oliver said.

"Aye… You did," Greeves said, looking at him strangely. "But that ain't the sort of handling that strength is meant to be capable of swatting down, you know? I said you're twisted enough that you might be able to see through the cunning of worse men, but I was half joking…"

"Is that right?" Oliver said.

"…Looks like it really was the right decision for you to go alone," Greeves said. "They're quite happy to turn their city upside down just for one smith… And to rope a noble woman in… And a Captain. Aye, the Guild is as strong as it ever was. Might even be stronger. Don't think that Lord Ferdinand is going to be pleased when he hears what happens, though.

The contest he had in mind with you sounded a lot purer than whatever this abomination has turned out to be."

"They've put their cards on the table," Oliver said. "It is not the only foe that we've ever faced that has resorted to such methods.

When the High King himself is fine with making deals with devils in order to stamp at sparks that should not have bothered him in the first place, it is only natural that the worst among his subjects – those with the eyes to see his deeds – will take inspiration from them."

"You'd lay this at the High King's door as well?" Greeves said doubtfully. "They're different entities, these boys. Don't let your hatred turn to dogma. You'll be seeing his shadow wherever you look if you keep this up."

"How can I not? Is it not a King's duty to be an example? If the King is corrupt, the country is corrupt, no matter what outward image might be presented. The King is the very heart of the nation. He, at least, ought to maintain some degree of purity.

Is that not why the King is revered as he is, and he has access to all these things that the peasants envy – because the post itself demands a difficult task, in maintaining a just head and heart, and it requires the support of an entire country to manage that. Not that this King ever had. Though I suppose that is why the old cycle is succession is the way it was, to prevent power from stagnating."