A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor -
Chapter 1400 - 1400: Childish - Part 6
When Nila heard, her eyes glowed with excitement. "That's it," she'd said, pointing her finger at Oliver. "That'll get us out of this mess, before it can get any worse."
"You're quicker than Greeves..." Lasha said quietly.
"He did take a while to convince," Verdant added. "But it seems that you already see the merits of my Lord's plan. As is to be expected from Lady Felder."
"It sounds set to be soooo exciting," Nila said, practically dancing as she imagined it. She'd already been told of its happening by Judas as she passed him in the street on the way there. "I've never been to a proper festival. Sure, we've had celebrations, but we've never had a real city-like festival. This'll surely have enough people to be called that. I'll need to up my hunting, and have some fresh meat prepared for the visitors. There's surely going to be lots to sell."
"Well, I'm glad you're on board," Oliver said. "You can see the other merchants informed, in the event that Greeves misses out on doing it himself. As it happens, it seems like he's going to need to dedicate a good portion of his time to cleaning up his messes."
"I'm glad that we didn't have to rely on his methods…" Nila said.
"Indeed," Oliver said.
"Is there anything else that I can do?" Nila pressed, leaning forward over Oliver's desk in her enthusiasm, with both hands pressed against the wood.
He smiled wearily. He'd spent the past two hours writing letters in his own hand – his writing, as it had happened, was at least passable now, after spending all those years at the Academy. But it certainly could not be called pretty. "There isn't that much to do yet… Perhaps just spreading the news will be enough. The villagers are far more comfortable with you than me. I'm sure you'll be able to get them all prepared."
"That's only because they look up to you, as their Lord," Nila said. "It's only natural that they'll act like that. But if that's what you want me to do, I'll see it done. Oh – and you'd better make sure there's some competition with a bow, okay?"
"Would you enter it yourself?" Oliver said.
"Of course I would!" Nila said. "I want to see just how I stack up against some of the other archers in the realm. Everyone is always praising my accuracy, but just how good am I compared to the very best, I do wonder?"
"Very well, I'll promise to try and include something like that…" Oliver said.
"Right! Okay! I'll leave you to it then," Nila said, nodding once, then twice, then three times, as if attempting to drain some of her excitement through it. "I'll see you tonight, when you're less busy – and I'll go spread the word for now. By the Gods, this is going to be sooooo much fun!"
She practically sprinted out of the door again, as wild as the Nila Felder of times past was known to be. Just her reaction, Oliver felt, was enough to reassure him that it was the right course of action. He'd had the smallest doubt that he might have been taking things too lightly. After all, a tournament of this scale was hardly something that ought to have been made in jest. But he reassured himself, that already, it was falling into a position of certainty, and it was up to him to make sure that such certainty was further cemented.
The main obstacle in that, he knew – just as Greeves had said – was General Blackwell. He didn't expect that the General would pose any significant kind of resistance to the event, but the fact remained, that the fate of it still lay squarely in his hands. He could refuse them for whatever arbitrary reason that he wished to.
The largest worry in that convincing Lord Blackwell matter was the fact that, if the General did not reply quickly, they wouldn't be able to move onto the next stages of their planning. He could leave them waiting for as long as a month, if he wanted to. Oliver expected it to take around a week for a reply to emerge – what he didn't expect was for that reply to come in the very same day.
He'd sent the crow out to Ernest in the early afternoon – and naturally given the short distance to the city it would not have taken long to arrive – and by the early evening, the reply was sitting on his desk.
"…Are we sure this is a response to what I sent him earlier?" Oliver said, staring at the sealed parchment with doubt. Naturally, he recognized the owl seal of House Blackwell… But there were more logical explanations for the speedy message, than it being an immediate reply to what he had said.
He dared to crack it open, to take a look. And what he saw inside was rather reminiscent of a letter from Lady Blackthorn – he wondered if the combined Blackwell and Blackthorn lineage that went so far back had something to do with that.
It was a single sentence, imposing a meeting on him, and not telling him what the meeting was for. "I will arrive in Solgrim to meet with you tomorrow at midday."
"…That's ominous," Oliver said. "And why would he come here? I ought to be the one going to Ernest to meet with him. Is it me, or does this make the meeting more likely to seem worse?"
Despite his trepidation, there was nothing that he could do, apart from see that his residence was appropriately clean to welcome a Lord. There was nothing he could do about the lacklustre state of the building itself, for it was already furnished as well as he could possibly stomach to.
"This meeting will be a good opportunity to raise the matter, no matter what it is that he is here for," Verdant told Oliver for what must have been the third time, as the two of them waited with bated breath for the General to arrive.
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