A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1512 - 1512: The Unexpected - Part 3

"…I wouldn't," Blackthorn said. She'd quite clearly only just decided to listen into the conversation then, for, in complete line with her usual disagreeable nature, she immediately piped up with a refusal. "Who are we fighting?"

"Come, Lasha," Nila said, gently, and somewhat sympathetically taking her hand. "The day has been long for you as well. You mustn't force yourself. We'll find ourselves a good spot to watch, Oliver. We shall leave you to your final preparations. Good luck! Not that you really need it… But also, be careful!"

With Nila dragging a stubborn Lasha by the hand, just Oliver and Verdant were left alone. "All three of you, striking up warnings," Oliver said. "Even Lasha seemed somewhat wary."

"It's just the nature of the events that lie on the horizon, my Lord," Verdant said. "Everything seems to weigh itself with an increasing amount of significance. We are in a very tense time at the moment. The slightest thing, and the tower of cards that we're beginning to build up will get blown over."

"And you think, my duel with this Gar will be that?" Oliver asked. "After I have already duelled Generals earlier in the day?"

"I do not think so, my Lord," Verdant said. "But I would be in denial if I said I didn't feel uneasy. Perhaps it's not the match itself. Perhaps it's merely the embers still burning from last night. But I find it necessary to pull myself towards a higher state of alertness as we go towards this final event. It is not as if we defeated all the trouble yesterday, after all, it was only Ferdinand's killer and few accomplices that we captured. We still don't know the full extents of their plans."

"…I suppose not," Oliver said. He took his sword out of his scabbard to inspect it one final time. It was polished so that it shone like a mirror. He could see his own face in that, with his head squeezed into his tight helmet, and the helmet's mask still up. It was an odd sight. Not one that he found he liked.

He ran his eyes down the length of the weapon, looking for chips, and then he ran his finger parallel to the blade, searching for rolls, and ensuring sharpness, without testing it directly. It was as good a condition as he could get the weapon in, he decided. Battering armour with it always left it slightly beaten, but he'd managed to tend to it well enough in between bouts that he could continue to trust in it.

"All your fastenings are as they should be," Verdant assured him as well. "Your armour and your sword are in perfect condition. You can afford to direct your attention outwards."

Oliver nodded.

"If you are on such high alert, Verdant, then I give you leave to move some of the Patrick men as you wish," Oliver said. "Take what precautions you wish for. Perhaps I do begin to feel a moderate amount of tenseness in the air…"

The wind was certainly beginning to pick up, as if it was going to begin storming. Leaves were shot through the gaps between tents, and the tents themselves groaned heartily in the wind, their guide ropes growing taught as they resisted the angry air that wanted to see them blown away.

Peasants and nobles alike walked with heads hunched down against the biting chill, and their arms wrapped around themselves for warmth. But no matter how tightly they pulled their clothes against themselves, that wind always seemed to make it through, chilling them ever further, until their flesh grew blue.

Oliver found himself walking with the alertness that Verdant had suggested, eyeing every small little thing. When a man grew too close, he found himself distancing himself, and narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but those men only shot him confused looks in reply, and then hurried on with whatever tasks they were up to.

There was a stall worker with three boxes full of goods all piled high on top of each other, who made the same mistake of wandering too close. Oliver felt the man's shadow cross his own, and he leapt to the side, just in time for the bottom of the three boxes to split, bringing the rest down with them, scattering apples, cabbages and potatoes everywhere, though none neared Oliver, given his preemptive reaction.

The store worker raised a cry of alarm, and dove after him, and then practically gasped when he saw Oliver standing there, so close to having been hit. He took his hat from his head and grasped it in his hands, bowing low, and begging for mercy.

"Forgive me, m'Lord, didn't mean anythin' by it, just slipped is all…" he said.

"Be on your way," Oliver told him. "You need not apologize to me. You've bigger problems to attend to. Go, recover your produce before the children make away with the lot of it."

Like flies to a pile of manure, the peasant children – some local, and some who had travelled for the event – came racing past, stuffing their pockets with apples and potatoes as they went, and giggling when the store worker cursed them for it.

Oliver wore a grim smile at the scene. There was a part of him that delighted in the children's play, but now as an adult, he could well understand the difficulty of the store workers position. The produce that he carried almost certainly didn't belong to him. It would be his hide on the table next, when his overseer heard about all that he had lost.

"Come, my Lord, we've business to attend to," Verdant said, hurrying Oliver on from his staring, as he debated whether or not he should intervene and offer a helping hand.

In the end, he gave the casual solution of a nobleman. He reached into his pocket, and flicked a silver coin to the store worker. "Don't mind them," he said about the children. "See if you can make up for what you've lost with that."

The man gaped at him, but Oliver didn't wait around long enough to hear his thanks. Verdant smiled mildly. "I see that even when the times change, Oliver Patrick does not."

Oliver snorted dismissively. "I have changed. Tossing coin at a problem – a contemptible solution."

"Is that chivalry speaking, or pride, my Lord?" Verdant asked. "For that was quite the chivalrous notion. Most would have simply walked past, given that they were busy themselves. Yours was the solution of a man in a hurry. I do not find that to be contemptible."