A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1488 - 1488: The Realm's Most Valiant - Part 6

"…I would not put it so harshly," Oliver said, without aggression in his voice, or the disagreeableness that his disagreement seemed to point to. It was sadness now, and remorse. "It will weigh heavy on your conscience, and it ought to. But a lifetime is a long time. You know the legacy of your Lord. You can work hard in enacting it. You will be condemned for failing to go the full way – but as far as I can tell, of all your Lord's retainers, it was you that had the sense of duty great enough to go and find him. And it is for that reason, that even if you were not able to save his life, you were able to deliver him justice."

"Do not coddle a dishonoured man," Blackthorn said. "What is honour, if the dishonour are not kicked for their sins?"

"Honour is not for the society to judge, General," Oliver said. "Honour is what a man feels when he is by himself. His honour is only known to him. How else would he act honourably, if there were no eyes to watch him working?"

"Tsch," Blackthorn said. "I dislike you, Oliver Patrick. You worm your words like a diplomat. I dislike that. Present yourself honestly. Fight in the tournament, at my behest. I've assisted you in your task. If you have honour, then do me that favour."

"It is your own honour that brought you here, is it not, General?" Oliver said. "Honour for the rival that you hold in esteem."

Blackthorn rounded on him, eyes wild, ready to swing. "You watch yourself now, Patrick. There are things that you ought not comment on, things beyond yourself."

With a dip of his head, Oliver acknowledged that truth. "You are right. It was not my place to say. Regardless, I am glad that you were here, General. I do not know how you managed to track him down, but it goes without saying that without your assistance, we would not have been able to do it. I will make sure that Lord Blackwell knows that."

"I told you, keep out of matters that don't concern you," Blackthorn said, seizing Oliver's shirt, dragging him off his feet. "You won't breathe a word of this to Blackwell. It doesn't concern him. I act on orders from my Queen."

Oliver smiled ever so slightly. "As dangerous as you are, Lord Blackthorn, it must be honour that binds you as well. Very well, I will try to honour the favour that you have done me, with something else in turn."

"Then you will fight in the tournament?" Blackthorn said. It was barely a question. It was far more approaching an order, especially with the Command that Blackthorn lent into his voice.

"On that front, I still will have to decline. But I shall work to find a solution that satisfies you, if you can trust in that," Oliver said.

With an outraged shove, Blackthorn released his grip on him. "Tsch. The words of a diplomat," he said again, disgusted. "I've had enough of it. If I wished to talk diplomacy, I would have come in search of your Lord Idris instead. This is the man that you've sworn your loyalty to, Lasha. Not a warrior – a diplomat. What a waste of a sword."

He tutted again, and spat on the ground in front of him, before he turned away, in a flourish of his silver cape, now stained with blood.

"…Forgive my father," Lasha said. "He's wrong about you. Diplomacy is the last thing that you're good at."

Oliver snorted his laughter. "Brilliant. Is that your attempt at cheering me up, Lasha? By saying I'm a terrible diplomat?"

"…Is she wrong, though?" Nila said.

"You too?" Oliver said.

Nila grinned at him. "I know you're not that bad," she said.

Their good humour only lasted the slightest span of a few seconds, for there was still a corpse before them, and they still had to deal with the fact that they'd lost the son of their Lord that day. Even with their initial mission complete, there still seemed to be an awful lot to be done.

"Truly, though, thank the Gods that General Blackthorn was here," Oliver said. "Your father is a frightening creature, Lasha. I wonder what instincts allowed him to track what even our dogs had begun to struggle with."

"He's half an animal himself, that's why," Lasha said with a sniff.

"And this, from Lasha Blackthorn?" Oliver said.

"I'm not half an animal," Lasha said.

"Mhmm, you're entirely an animal," Oliver said lazily, holding his hand up to quieten her before she could attempt a retort. "Darkness is coming, gentlemen, and there is still a dead body at our feet. Torin, are you still willing to follow my orders? I would have a message sent out to my men, of what we have done. And then I would have you present with me, when we deliver the news to Lord Blackwell."

"Very well, Captain, I shall do as you say," Torin said. He almost seemed glad of the fact that he had someone to obey. As the Patrick party had bantered between them, the young retainer had stared listlessly at the body of the man that had killed his Lord, with his hand clenched into a fist.

"There you are, Nocturna," Ingolsol growled, at the slightest trace of a presence that still clung to the corpse. "You dare to defy me, in any realm, with any degree of Fragmentation, you see the result."

There was a vague feeling of something stirring in response, though it was too thin a presence to tell exactly what the words were. The sentiment, at least, wasn't entirely positive.

"If you or your Fragments are near me again, you will remember to kneel," Ingolsol continued. "You would not make that mistake in the other realm. You and your kind cower before me there. Do not make that mistake here either."

Oliver had a feeling that the Fragment of Nocturna Ingolsol so tormented didn't entirely understand the animosity. His own Fragments were almost amnesiacs in their knowledge. It had taken a good amount of time and effort for them to remember as much as they had, and even then, it was a mere fraction of the total whole. It seemed a stretch to expect that others might have gone as far. But naturally, Ingolsol still took offence regardless, and continued to berate the air.