A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1346 - 1346: Tainted Chalices - Part 3

Even the crowd was curious. For the Colonels who had done so well before, they had not even approached the feat of slaying a General. Certainly, they thought, this treasure must have been something of the rarest sorts. Something at least equivalent to that land that the Colonels had been given, for the feat itself was far greater. It wouldn't make sense for it to be anything but that.

Not unless the world was entirely backwards from what he supposed.

"In the form of…." The High King finally continued. "A collection of tomes… Written by the First King, concerning the likes of swordsmanship, philosophy, strategy, and alchemy. A truly immense worth of information, and for a young man that was so recently a student, a fitting gift. Come and receive your reward… Oliver Patrick."

'A book?' Oliver thought, as the crowd moved around him. 'Of all things, a book?' He was quite certain that whatever was written in those books will have already been transcribed long ago and made available in the libraries of the Academy. At best, it would be a collector's item. He supposed that was why the High King had foisted it off on him.

It would be a very difficult thing to find the proper money for, and the likelihood of him keeping it was far lower than if the treasure had been some famous weapon from some past King or another – which was, in truth, what Oliver had been hoping for, even knowing the High King was as petty as he was.

"Move aside," Skullic boomed. "Make way for Captain Patrick."

It was only with Skullic's shouting that the crowd knew where to locate Oliver. Those that had been pressing against the encirclement of guards now turned to look past them, towards the young man that stood in their centre.

Thousands of noblemen, thousands of noblewomen. All staring his way. All looking with round and greedy eyes at the young man that had seized the attentions of the High King, the crowd, and the Generals. He may not have been given a reward that they desired, but at least they wished to be in the position where they could dare to snub such a reward.

It ought to have been Oliver's opportunity to gloat, and put a smile on his face, showing off his teeth, making sure that they knew that he knew just how far above them he currently stood – if only for an instance. Some slight inclination of revenge against all the pettiness of the noblesse system that he had so often found himself despising.

Oliver, however, felt none of that.

It was a thud in his heart that he felt.. A heartbeat came stronger than the rest, with a reverberation profound enough to shake his entire body. A bout of dizziness afflicted him as he took his first step. It was as if he was walking through oil.

He steadied himself with a groan. There was a time when his whole world was afflicted by dizziness. Its sudden return did not stir him to any great degree. Even when there was pain to be had, he was rather adept at keeping it hidden.

The crowd parted for Oliver, as he took his short stammering steps. He heard that Blackthorn had said something, and he saw something that might have been worry on her face, but he didn't have the senses to determine the exact truth of it.

So suddenly, his body demanded that the entirety of his attention be focused merely on walking forward. If he didn't do so, he was certain that he would collapse.

'Why…' He muttered to himself, feeling himself stagger. 'Why now?'

The High King had called his name. This ought to have been the moment of triumph, of sweet relief. This ought to have been the outlet for the suffering. But instead, the opposite had happened. By some malicious twist of the Gods, or perhaps some misreading of the tides of Oliver's own heart, it was a regression that was brought about, rather than a relief.

Step by step he went through the crowd. Skullic's men went with him, just to clear them, as did his own Patrick men. Towards the stairs, step by step. Oliver was halfway up before he knew what was happening. He walked in a stubborn daze. He ought to have sat down moments before.

What was it that he felt..? What was that feeling, suddenly so overwhelming, that weighed heavy on his heart? He could hear the chains of a heavy ship dropping its anchor, and grinding against the rocks, and it was that anger, by sheer physical might alone, that Oliver felt like he was trying to shift. Covered in its barnacles, coated in seaweed, he felt that weighty chain dragging along behind him.

He recalled that which he had gently tried to lay to rest. He thought had come to terms with it. He had never allowed any close to him to see that he was suffering from the matter. He could not. 'Oliver Patrick has no worth in sadness,' he had told himself, knowing it to be true. If he had sat and moped in his sadness, his people would quickly grow tired of him.

They'd see past his supposed talents, and see what lay broken, right at the heart of him.

So quickly he had attempted to come to terms with it, for he had been taken to a different place, and given a different name. Lombard had offered him salvation from the grief. He had said, "go forward," and Oliver had been able to do just that.

But here, in the den of the enemy, when the enemy was to give him praise, how could he not remember Dominus? All that the man had been in life. How could he not air his frustrations?

'Why…' He thought to himself, feeling his eyes mist. 'Why did he have to go then – it was the barest span of a few months? Why did he have to leave so soon?'

He thought on all the pain that he had endured since Dominus' passing. All the counsel that he had missed out on. Dominus Patrick was irrefutably the wisest man that Oliver had ever met. Naturally, he was… imperfect, it was safe to say. His actions and his words were easy to poke holes in. But there were moments when, in quiet, Oliver had been able to see into the man's eyes.

Despite all that Dominus had endured, there was some sort of gentleness then, along with the deep sadness, the strength and the pain.