A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1372 - 1372: Secrets of the Past - Part 2

Even then, it had taken him another hour to get to sleep, and the result was a pitiful three hours of rest that he'd been delivered. He hadn't felt so tired in a while. No matter where he was in the world, Oliver Patrick always made sure to get sufficient sleep. He was well aware that he was far less effective when he was operating, even on the most minor of sleep deficits.

The sluggishness filled every fibre of his being, as he forced himself out of his bed covers, and up into the cold air of the late autumn morning. He fought a shiver. A fire hadn't been lit in his room last night, given how late he had gone to bed. Now he was paying for that come morning.

"Just get moving," he told himself, throwing on a fresh pair of clothes. He would need to change again after washing, but that was a problem for the Oliver of a few hours into the future. For now, he supposed he just needed to eat something, to try and recover his energy back.

Once more, he found himself in his living room, where the fire glowed warmly, as if untouched from the previous night. Though the evidence of the servant's activity was made clear. All the chairs were put back in their previous places, and the floor had been brushed and scrubbed, and was still in the middle of drying.

Even the fire, despite roaring so fiercely now, had undoubtedly been cleaned out and relit. All the ash that had collected in it from the previous day had disappeared, after all.

The only thing that the servants had dared not touch was the ancient books set upon Oliver's desk. The first volume was still open on the page that Oliver had left it on. But, one of the books underneath it had disappeared. The culprit was immediately identifiable, given that he had also seen to it that another table was brought in to accommodate his reading.

"Good morning, General," Oliver said, greeting him. "How fares the reading this morning?"

Skullic, unlike Oliver, seemed clear of eye, and completely fresh from his sleep. He wore his armour, polished and shining as he usually did. Oliver had to ask whether it didn't grow uncomfortable to be constantly equipped for battle, but he ended up refraining from doing so, given that he could already well imagine what Skullic's response would be.

"Well," Skullic said. "Well, indeed… My only worry is that I will finish these books too quickly for my liking."

"Have you not already read them before?" Oliver said. "There would be nothing to stop you from reading them again."

"…It isn't the same. There are two stories here. What is written, and how the hand wrote it. It wouldn't be the same rereading it. I do intend to reread it, though," Skullic said.

"Have you learned anything?" Oliver asked.

"How do you mean?" Skullic said, frowning at the question.

"Well, I mean, surely there are pockets of wisdom that you seek in the First King's words?" Oliver asked.

"I would not call what I seek from the First King' work learning…" Skullic said. "Maybe others would class it as that. Perhaps to them it seems like studying, or something similar. But it's experience I try to gather. What I gain from it isn't in the form of facts, or teachings that I can recite to others. It's something below the surface, that I would struggle to relay."

"It sounds like learning, General," Oliver said, yawning.

Finally, Skullic spared him more than a glance. "You look awful this morning, Patrick. Did you stay up late?"

"…A bit too late," Oliver agreed.

"I thought as much. This room smelled strongly of women when I walked in this morning," Skullic said.

"That's an alarming thing to give voice to, General…" Oliver said. "I feel like, no matter who heard you say that, everyone would be unhappy. I feel moderately disgusted myself."

"It is true enough, however," Skullic said. "I'd wager you were in here with guests until the early hours of the morning. The smell didn't even have time to clear."

"Again, with the talk of smells…" Oliver said. "Are we dogs? Do you need to speak in those terms?"

"Am I to be silent about a tool that I have at my disposal merely because it makes you uncomfortable to hear it?"

"Would Mary enjoy hearing of it?" Oliver asked.

Skullic didn't look too pleased by the mentioning of Mary. "No. But that is why I said it to you, and not to my wife. As a man, I was certain that you understood what I meant."

"I do, but it's not as if I agree with you putting it in those terms…" Oliver said.

"What is with you lecturing me on this now?" Skullic said. "Do you suppose, boy, that you are in any position to lecture me on anything?"

"I didn't, until I walked in and you said something outrageous," Oliver said.

"Something true," Skullic said. "A true observation of fact. The means by which I deduced that you were up late. Do you want to ignore evidence merely because it's inconvenient? You'll make a poor detective."

"Since when was I being interviewed for a role as a detective?" Oliver said. "Whilst you might be right about what you said, there are certain things that should be left unsaid. It's not as if we are alone here, with no one to listen. You're always warning me about that."

"It's not so outlandish a statement that we both need to run from it," Skullic said with a sniff. "It is as natural as observing something with your eyes."

"They would hate you if they heard you say it," Oliver said.

"Then I will refrain from saying it when they are around. But the fact remains, women carry a stench," Skullic said, "and this room is full of it."

"Gods forbid you just say 'the room still carried the scent of perfume,'" Oliver said. "Imagine that – they would almost have not hated hearing it, eh? That would have been a waste of a precious dig, wouldn't it?"