A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1511 - 1511: The Unexpected - Part 2

"Tell that to the state that you left the faces of those poor gentlemen in," Nila said, almost scoldingly, but Oliver had been quick to see her hidden relief earlier. She'd come sprinting from her own matches to ask after him in a high voice, only to find him sat with his men, sipping his fruit tea, with hardly a scratch on his armour.

"You've done far better than I," Oliver told her, flopping a hand onto her head. "All the way to the finals you've gone, haven't you? I'm sorry I wasn't there to watch it."

She let him pat her head for a second, glaring him down with complete distaste, but Oliver knew she didn't hate it entirely. Then she swatted away the palm, and pointed a finger at him. "Don't act like that in public, you fool. You're going to embarrass all of us."

"Yes, yes," Oliver said. "Lasha, you've yet to tell me more than the fact of her success. How did she do?"

"…Well," Lasha offered. "She did well."

"As insightful as ever," Oliver remarked dryly.

"I was proud," Lasha offered, sounding far older than she was.

"What, are you my mother now?" Nila said.

"She was proud too, she said so," Lasha said. Apparently she'd watched the bouts standing next to Mrs Felder, listening to the woman's excited and anxious commentary, as she watched her daughter do battle.

"Why do I feel vaguely terrified of you getting close to my mother…" Nila said.

"Because, knowing Mrs Felder, she'll make a pet of someone like Blackthorn," Oliver offered.

"She definitely will," Nila sighed. "She's already forgetting that she's a noblewoman. She's acting far too familiar."

"It's nice," Lasha offered innocently.

Nila stared at her, then sighed again. She did as Oliver had done to her, and patted her on the head. "It is nice," she agreed. "It is terribly inappropriate, and it ought not to be the case, but I am glad that we are close, as long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable."

Lasha shook her head quickly, taking care not to toss away the head. She had the expression a delighted cat, as Nila gently stroked her hair back into place.

"It would seem, my Lord, that Professor Yoreholder has been struck out of the competition," Verdant offered, as Oliver watched the two of them.

"Really?" He said, genuinely surprised by that fact. "I had thought that a woman like her would make it all the way to the final."

"I think that speaks to the level of competition that they've had to face," Verdant said.

"And Nila has made it past all of them," Oliver mused. "At least I'll get to see the final this time. That's a small mercy, despite the schedule that Blackwell has set out for us."

"I've been commanded to win," Nila said dryly. "The Lord that you've allied yourself with is certainly a demanding man, Oliver."

"He is indeed," Oliver agreed. "But I think you'll win regardless, whether he asks you to or not. It seems marginally impossible that there could be another archer of your skill in a place like this."

"Why is it so annoying to hear you say that?" Nila said, twisting her lips. "You haven't seen who I've been put up against. I'm barely holding on here. Maybe you can say something like that so confidently when you see the level of competition that I have to overcome?"

"Apologies," Oliver said.

"Ah… No, I didn't mean it genuinely like that. I know you've been ordered to do other things… I've missed your bouts as well, so I'm really not complaining, I'm just saying…" Nila said awkwardly.

Oliver grinned ever so slightly watching her squirm. She seemed to realize that she was being made fun of, for despite her own insistence that they behave more distant in public, she could not stop herself from throwing a playful jab at his side, with her face twisted in distaste.

"At this rate, I'm not even going to be watching you now," she said with a sniff.

"This is the one least likely to be a subject of entertainment, I do think," Oliver said.

"Though, it is against a rather interesting opponent," Verdant remarked thoughtfully. "Who would have thought that, the very same young man who you took pity on when he was causing trouble, would be a person that you would cross swords with eventually?"

"He was rather keen to fight me back then too," Oliver noted as he stood up, and dusted himself off. "Well, he has gotten what it is he wanted. There is no use in regretting it now. I'll tend to the matter, and see my work done for the day."

"You shouldn't underestimate your opponent, even if he is beneath you," Nila said. "No matter what, duelling another man with swords is going to be dangerous. If you go in with lagging attention, you could really get hurt, Oliver."

"Quite so, Lady Felder," Verdant said. "I would advise going all out my Lord, just on the off chance that there was indeed something interesting about him."

"Sorry?" Oliver said, looking at Verdant in surprise. "Are you meaning to advise me towards caution as well, Verdant? This isn't like you. You're usually more certain in my abilities than even I am in them."

"Just a precaution my Lord," Verdant assured him. "Just a precaution. You have fought against two Generals just a few hours ago. No matter how easily you might have overcome them, there's likely to be some wear there. So I say again, it's simply a precaution… And perhaps a subject of observation. He's a difficult young man to pin down, as far as abilities go – but he does not seem to have come close to using as of yet, despite how many have bet against him."

"…You mean to say you can't see through him?" Oliver pressed.

"I wouldn't be honest if I denied that," Verdant admitted. "But that's not to say that the inability to define him results in any great promise as to the individual. It could simply be that there is nothing to define in the first place. His fragile state of mind makes him difficult to predict. That is the sort of creature that I think he is. At the very least, I think Lady Blackthorn and I would struggle against him."