A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1452 - 1452: Impressive Talents - Part 1

"Have you given thought to your future rounds?" Volguard said. "As potent as the style might be, the way you operated with it in this round was simplistic. In the sense that, it would be easy for your future foes to counter. They shall simply avoid accepting your sacrifices."

"But that too should open up opportunities, right, Professor?" Oliver said.

"…Mhm. Indeed, it shall. Very well. I will say nothing more, and I will leave you to celebrate," Volguard said. "I look forward to seeing what you manage to present in future rounds."

There were only a few more Battle board matches left in the day before sundown, and by the time it came around, all the masses were gathered exclusively around the stalls, looking for whatever hot food they could. Once they'd found something, they'd drift towards one of the many large bonfires that had sprung up across the plains like fireflies, looking to catch a bit of the heat.

Music sang in the air from flutes, as street performers from Ernest stood on the side of the different pathways that had been marked out between the many rows of tents along the main thoroughfare.

The first day, by all accounts, had been a roaring success. Both Ferdinand and Greeves confirmed as much to Oliver. The coin they'd made exceeded their expectations. They'd have no trouble meeting the expenses that they needed to cover. All that would be left was counting the profit on top of it, after they'd given out their prizes to the tournament winners.

Naturally, it wasn't only the organizational successes that they had to celebrate. The officers of the Patrick army had all put on an impressive display that day, securing themselves places in future rounds. Even some of their foot soldiers had managed to place highly too, though there were far more who had been left disappointed at their early defeats.

After Oliver had made another short visit to Queen Asabel, he and the rest of the Patrick army, took to a quieter corner of the plains with their celebrations. They had their own food cooked on a giant fire, courtesy of Mrs Felder, and a few other villages, and they had more than enough wine to put a herd of buffalo to sleep.

Sitting next to Nila, watching it all, Oliver had to admit to himself that he had not been happier in the longest time. He threaded an arm around her shoulders, and rested his cheek against her head when she looked up at him, and he remained like that until the earlier hours of the morning, until the cold drove them towards the warmer confines of one of the many tents that they'd set up.

And then, with the mercilessness offered by the sun's consistency, dawn broke, arousing all those tournament goers that had missed out on their sleep for another day of festivities, even more exciting than the last. For that day promised to put the very strongest against each other, now that the weaker numbers had been eliminated from each tournament type. And, it promised to see the General's mock battles beginning.

The day began with a melee. There was the sense that, they were able to get far sooner to the meat of the pitch battles than they were before. No one wanted to miss even a single match, for they knew all the participants that remained were those of quality.

Oliver found his eyes pinned to the first match as well, for it was set to be a battle between Captains and Commanders again. This time, however, there were no Patrick men to attract his attention. Only Gar.

"You're filthy again," Oliver sighed, seeing the boy. He didn't look like he'd bought any of the new clothes that he'd promised he would. Nor did he look like he'd had a bath. "It was freezing last night. Where did you sleep, dressing like that?"

"Grass," Gar said happily.

"…You're going to get yourself killed, sleeping on damp grass in this weather, with no fire," Oliver said. "Did you at least get something to eat?"

Gar patted his belly in the affirmative. "Eat big! Win big! Stronger than you!" Gar declared, and he soon enough went rushing off, as he heard the bell sound to gather up the participants or the first melee.

"It's hard to put my finger on him," Oliver complained.

"He's adorable," Nila said, having just met him for the first time.

"…Adorable? Is that the word for him? Which part? The way he doesn't know to close his mouth to stop himself from dribbling?" Oliver said.

"Well, that part's less cute…" Nila said. "It was kind of you to give him coin as you did."

"Though he didn't spend it as my Lord said he ought to," Verdant said, with a hint of mirth. He'd made it clear that he didn't like the lack of respect that Gar spoke to Oliver with.

"I had a feeling that he wouldn't," Oliver admitted. "At least he's eaten. It would have been a shame for that to hinder his abilities."

"I want to watch this time around," Nila declared. "He doesn't seem to be strong, but Lasha said that he made it through a round of the Captain's tournament already."

"He did," Oliver said.

"Though we didn't really see him fight either," Lasha added. None of them had expected him to make it as far as he had, and so they'd practically ignored him, but now a sizable group of Patrick men had gathered with a certain degree of curiosity, wondering how far he'd go.

"We've gotta find out if he's competition or not," Firyr said, by way of excuse, as he found his own spot by the side of the arena to take up residence in.

They weren't left waiting for long. Jorah, Kaya and Karesh were in charge of refereeing that round, with a few other Patrick men, and they knew not to make the restless crowd wait any longer – especially on such a cold morning. Without any further fanfare, Jorah bluntly commanded for the bell to be rung, and the competition began.