A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1441 - 1441: Furthering Competition - Part 1

Gar shook his head. "Bad hunting. Rabbit slip through hand. Wooooshhh."

"If I gave you a coin, would you know how to use it?" Oliver said.

Gar nodded enthusiastically. "Not stupid. Gar very clever. Gar buy lots of food."

"Do you think you can find yourself some clothes as well?" Oliver said. "If you would find me before your bout tomorrow, I can see armour lent to you."

Gar shook his head. "No armour. Waste. SLOW. Wayyyy toooo slowwww. Thick like muddddd. Sticky sticky."

"Clean yourself up at least," Oliver said, holding up a gold coin for him to see. "Spend the majority of it on food, but find yourself something warm to dress in. The weather is too cold to be that ragged, and you're only going to be colder dressed as you are."

Gar reached for the coin with outstretched hands. Oliver held it above his head, finding – with a certain degree of amusement – that Gar was smaller even than he. He couldn't have been much bigger than Nila.

"Food and clothes, do you understand?" Oliver said. "You'll promise to spend it properly, won't you? If you don't clean yourself up, and look after yourself, I won't let you fight tomorrow."

The enthusiasm of Gar's reaching quickly dampened, but he gave a begrudging agreement. "Hate. Hate. Hate. But gold shiny. Shinnnnnnne!" He pointed to the sky above, where the sun was indeed shining, and Oliver relinquished the gold coin to him, at which Gar promptly went speeding off, in the direction of the markets.

"Why'd you bother giving him that, Captain?" Firyr said. "A gold coin is way too much for the likes of him. That's a bloomin' year's worth of wages."

"Indeed it is," Oliver said. "But there are times when, what might be a small gift for us, would mean a life changing amount to someone else. I don't find I mind him too much. If you allow for the fact of his madness, all that he says has little effect on raising you to anger. I wouldn't like to see him suffering any more than is necessary."

"…Again, my Lord looks after the peasantry," Blackthorn noted, looking at him as if she was studying him, and not finding the answers that she looked for. It had ever been a point of contention between the two of them. She had long since accepted the fact that amongst the peasantry was where Oliver found the most comfort, but she had never found an answer to why that yet satisfied her.

"I wish I had a gold coin to spend," Firyr complained.

"Gods be good, shut up, Firyr," Kaya said. "You're embarrassing."

"That was in bad taste to ask for reward, Commander," Yorick reprimanded.

"At the very least, I suppose you can find yourselves something to eat. You've worked hard," Oliver said, producing a handful of gold coins for them. "You've done me proud today. Have this amount too split between the other men that competed. They've done wonders for improving our reputation."

"Ayeeeee, Serrrr!" Firyr said gleefully.

The afternoon saw a rather large uptick in nervousness for both Oliver and Nila. He'd managed to find her, just after lunch, when the competitions were put temporarily on hold, to allow time for the archery targets to be set up.

"W-w-what d-d-o y-you mean? I'm not n-nervous," Nila said, with chattering teeth.

"Uh huh," Oliver said, pretending he couldn't see her hands shaking, and pretending that his own weren't shaking as well. First, it would be some rounds of the archery tournament, and then they'd begin on the Battle board matches – which Oliver was positively dreading.

He'd put in such a degree of work into his strategy in the last few weeks, with a good deal of help from Nila – he'd rather enjoyed continuing to teach her – and thus his expectations were high enough that they could have been called ridiculous.

He felt like he'd made changes that ought to be significant, but he wasn't sure if he was delusional in that assumption, for he hadn't tested them to their fullest degree. His imagination continually conjured up an image of him losing in the very first round, against the very first Colonel that he was set to face. In that same little imagination, Blackwell was always shaking his head in disappointment, and Karstly was chuckling with amusement.

"I did say I'd introduce you to Professor Yoreholder before the round begins, but I don't have the slightest idea where she is," Oliver said.

"It might be bad for me to meet someone right now…" Nila said. "She's going to think I'm pathetic."

"You're nervous, then?"

"I'm not nervous!" Nila said defiantly, but she still reached out to grab his hand for reassurance. "I just don't want to make you look bad in front of a person that you respect. Shouldn't we just wait until I've settled down a bit?"

"You needn't worry about that," Oliver said. "You're impressive enough that you'll perform even when nervous. I have no doubt that you'll be fine. I haven't met a single soldier with a finger shot than you, after all. Your opponents don't stand a chance."

"Now I'm actually nervous…" Nila said. "My stomach feels funny. I shouldn't have eaten. I think I might be sick. Why did I agree to this? This is terrifying. Is it too late to back out now?"

"Just concentrate on firing your first shot. After that, everything will be fine," Oliver said.

"It couldn't possibly be," Nila said. "I'm going to lose pathetically, and my employees are going to see, and our trade partners, and they're all going to lose respect for me… I'm going to be laughed out of the village. This is set to be a disaster."

If Nila had wanted to escape from the Professor – the competition itself – then it was Professor Yoreholder who saw those hopes dashed. Instead of waiting for them to look for her, she'd found them herself, appearing from being, with a bow slung over her shoulder, like a phantom through the fog.