A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1483 - 1483: The Realm's Most Valiant - Part 1

"…Lovely dogs, I suppose," Greeves said, looking away, knowing better than to press her when she was angry. "I suppose they can be praised for finding you as well, 'cos I know I wouldn't have had a chance. And, not to name the elephant in the room, but what the bloody hell are you doing up there, Lord Patrick, eh? You lost something?"

"You know very well that we have," Oliver said. "But your assistance, it seems, will prove invaluable in finding it. You couldn't have arrived at a better time."

"Aye, aye," Greeves said, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't need your compliments for doing it. You didn't very well think that I could sit this one out, did ya? I've put in as much effort as you, Patrick. At least as much. And that Ferdinand put in almost more than I did. It's a bloody travesty that some low-life thinks he can do him in the heart and get away with it."

"…I seem to remember that being one of your many schemes, when things were a little more tense between us," Oliver noted.

"…I wasn't actually going to do it. Just because I mentioned it, doesn't mean I was gonna do it. I was just saying," Greeves said. "The situation was sticky enough that we had to consider it as an option. You know that as much as me."

"It was never an option," Oliver said. "Not for me. And if you had acted without my permission on that, it would have been you that we were chasing down with dogs, not this criminal."

As the two bandied their insults back and forth, Nila took charge of her trusty dogs, and led them towards where she knew the scent of the killer to be. Right below where Oliver was standing on top of the tent, she tried to get them to put their noses in the air, and drink in the scent that she was after.

"…It might be too weak from down here," Nila said with a frown. "Do we realllly have to put one of the dogs up there?"

The dogs had taken the scent, and with excited barks, they were lurching through the many little alleyways in between tents, dragging along the Patrick party with them. The humans kept pace, as best they could. But even if they had struggled, none would have called for those dogs to slow down. There was a mighty feeling of excitement in the air, now that they had something that they could trust in, more than just the ever fading tracks. There was a real sense that they might finally catch the man that they'd set out to apprehend – and it wasn't a moment too soon, for the sun was already threatening to dip lower in the sky, dying the horizon the colours of sunset.

'Faster, damn it. Faster,' Oliver thought to himself impatiently. Until the killer was either dead by his feet, or bound up right in front of him, he didn't want to slow for a single second.

The air grew colder, as the sun began to fade, with the threat of nighttime temperatures coming with it. The tournament had proceeded without them, following Lord Blackwell's orders that the death of his son not be announced – until after the killer had been dealt with. But now, even the latest of the tournament rounds were drawing to a close, and there were ever more people patrolling through the ranks of tents, in search of the stalls.

Naturally, to them, a racing Oliver Patrick made for quite a sight. So too did the Lord Idris and Lady Blackthorn that they saw speeding along with him. More than a few stopped to gawk, and to guess at what had happened. They saw the dogs barking, chasing down their scent, and no doubt they were putting the pieces together in their head.

Oliver was struck by Lord Blackwell's foresight in that. He'd thought that the limit of sundown had been in part due to Blackwell's own impatience – and the fact that catching the killer at night would be that much harder. But now he saw too that it was also the limit for how long they could possibly have kept the killing under wraps, and seen it dealt with.

The killer's scent took them back over on themselves, to some degree of relief. Oliver had half-expected for it to pierce straight through the perimeter of guardsmen, but from the way that the killer had doubled back, they must have set up the perimeter just in time to stop him..

Now, they were almost retracing their steps entirely, doing a long loop around the camp. If they had gone just a few rows to their right, they might have wandered straight into the first tent that they had encountered, where they had apprehended the first of their killers.

They passed some of their other parties of men as they raced. They exchanged news as quickly as they could, without slowing down – which involved sending a member of each party to convene, and pull the news back to the rest.

"Firyr says that they've found another killer," Lady Blackthorn told them, once she had raced back to join the group. "Apparently, he's dead. Firyr's spear got him, and they couldn't put him back together fast enough."

"Sounds about right," Oliver said. He could see Greeves pulling a face, as if he wanted to say something, but the man was far too out of breath to get any words out. That he had kept up for so long – even if he was trailing towards the back end of the group – was a mightily impressive feat.

Before Firyr, they had met Jorah's party, and the young man had stoically informed him that he had apprehended two killers himself, and one possible arsonist. Oliver couldn't help but be surprised by the number that he had gathered up, but then he supposed that, from Jorah, it ought to be expected.