A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1401 - 1401: Childish - Part 7

Like Oliver, he was quite taken by the plan to hold the tournament. But it was just so outlandish, and so sudden, that the two of them had difficulty believing that they could just so suddenly spring it into action. Oliver was quite sure that the General would spare him another one of his disdainful glances. He'd accused him of lacking the maturity required to be a Colonel before, and now, with actions like this, he was only further proving the man right.

'Still… Even if the man looks down on me for it, I want to get his approval,' Oliver thought. It was only him and his retainers by now. It was Nila – and the merchants, and with them, the entire village. The news of a possible future tournament had spread like wildfire, and since yesterday, it seemed to be all that anyone was talking about. Crushing such a wave of excitement so quickly seemed far too cruel for Oliver.

For the coming of the General, Oliver had elected to keep his retinue small, with just his two noble retainers, in Verdant and Lasha, and also the merchant Greeves. Greeves had said, quite firmly, that he would not be weighing in no matter what, but Oliver had forced him to join them, just in case there was the off chance that Lord Blackwell wished for the opinion of one from Greeves' line of work.

They heard the sound of hooves, five minutes before the scheduled time. Four horses Oliver spotted when he glanced out of the window. The General Blackthorn, in his civilian attire, with his broad shoulders threatening to split the seams of his long coat, and with his sword banging at his hip when he dismounted. The three guards that he'd brought were armoured in his place.

Oliver hurriedly went to the door to welcome him. "My Lord Blackwell," he said, with a small bow. "Welcome to Solgrim."

"Indeed," Blackwell said stiffly.

There was an awkward silence, as Oliver waited for the man to continue, but he elected not to elaborate any further. After a few tense moments, Oliver quickly welcomed the man inside.

"I see that the Lady Blackthorn has joined your services," Lord Blackwell commented in the corridor, seeing the way she followed after Oliver as his retainer. He gave the woman a nod.

"She has," Oliver agreed.

"And what did your Lord father make of that, Lady Blackthorn?" Blackwell commented.

"…I do not know yet. I have not seen him," Lasha replied.

Blackwell snorted. "Then I wish you luck, the next time you do see him. You're a bold sort, to go against your father like that. He is not easily talked down from his anger – a troublesome man he is."

Lasha said nothing, though her silence sounded strongly like agreement. In typical Lasha fashion, she had closed her eyes to that problem, and declared it a problem of the future – not something that should concern the Lasha of the now.

"Ah, warm," Blackwell commented, when they stepped into the living room, with the fire blaring. "Will you see that window open, Patrick? We are not yet in the heart of the winter. Such a stifling heat will make my thinking sluggish."

"Naturally," Oliver said, moving to open a window without complaint.

"You've already met my men, haven't you?" Blackwell said.

"Good day, Ser Patrick," one of the men said, wearing that foppish smile that Oliver remembered of him. "It feels like it has been a while, would you not say?"

"…Colonel Willem," Oliver said. "Good day."

"Ah, you remembered," the Colonel said. "That's a great honour. I imagine you had many names to remember on your campaign. What of these two? Do you remember them?"

"Apologies. I do not," Oliver said.

Willem laughed. "Sorry, gentlemen, I suppose you are just not as memorable as I am."

"Indeed," Blackwell said. "Well, enough of that. Down to business."

"Yes," Oliver agreed, remaining standing, so that Blackwell could choose his seat first. He elected for the sofa farthest away from the fire, and Oliver soon enough moved to sit opposite him. "What were the intentions behind your visit today, General?"

The General raised an eyebrow. "It is your letter that I came in response to. I would have thought that you would need no prodding from me."

"The matter of the tournament?" Oliver checked. He still had trouble believing that the General would respond so quickly.

"Indeed," the General said, quite naturally. "I have taken the time to see you, now talk of your intentions."

"Well…" Oliver took a second to gather himself. "My intentions are simply to hold a tournament. I've sent out letters to various nobles and Generals inviting them. General Skullic has already agreed to have his men participate, along with the fee necessary."

"Skullic replied so quickly?" Blackwell said, surprised.

"…Well, yes, he was there when we were discussing it, after all," Oliver said.

"Here?" Blackwell said. "Skullic's in Solgrim?"

"Indeed, General…" Oliver said, a little uncertainly. He was sure that Blackwell knew. At the very least, he thought that Ferdinand was certain to know.

"Hm," Blackwell said. "What is that fool doing here? When is he due to leave?"

"I am uncertain. He has been here a few weeks now," Oliver said.

"A few weeks!? Away from his domains?" Blackwell said. "For the likes of what…"

His eyes scanned the room, as if to find an answer, and they quickly fell upon the open book that Oliver had left on his desk. It was large enough to cover the entire thing, and heavy enough that a normal man would struggle to move it.

"Ah. The books of the First King," Blackwell said. "The devious wretch. So he's been holed up here, for the purposes of reading, abandoning his responsibilities. A poor example for those around him, it must be said."

"Perhaps. He has been enjoying himself, though," Oliver said. He noted that the General's eyebrow twitched at that. "I didn't know what it was about them that he found so interesting until recently. I was thinking of making the reading of the books a reward for the nobility in various sections of the tournament. What do you think?"