A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1645 - 1645: The Unexpected - Part 6

"Well, I'm aware that the High King isn't much one for sentimentality…" Oliver said. "But worry not, I'm sure I'll find a use for you."

"Is that right? Or are you merely keeping barrels of oil present, for your enemy to set light to? Ten thousand men reside in these walls, fed under your orders. Don't forget that, Oliver Patrick. You had best not relax," Prince Hendrick said.

"You almost sound like you're prodding me towards some sort of action," Oliver said. "Would you rather that I execute the prisoners?"

"…At least then, perhaps, I would know where you stand," Prince Hendrick said. "As you are now, I don't know what you are. You play at being honourable, and trustworthy, but those tactics that you utilised on the battlefield were not that."

"Oh?" Oliver said, tilting his head. "You disapprove of my trap?"

"It points to a sly cunning that I should mistrust," Prince Hendrick said. "If you are sly in that, why could you not be sly in other things?"

"I suppose you are quite right, I could be… Oh, by the way, you ought to try that cheese. Another gift from Greeves. I don't know what he calls it, but I find myself to be quite the fan," Oliver said. "I won't forgive you if you waste it. We have barely a handful of it."

"Then don't waste it on your enemy, you fool," Prince Hendrick said with a frown. "You're far too relaxed or a man at war. Far too relaxed. Do you feel not the slightest shred of emotion? Is war nothing but pure joy to you?"

"Hm," Oliver said. "That you see me like that is the strangest thing, good Prince. I think I've accused another man of the same thing once before… Well, no matter."

He stood up from the chair that he'd borrowed, and drew back the curtains of Prince Hendrick's window. "Ah, now that's better, isn't it? There isn't much sunlight to go around in these short winter days. You've got to fetch what you can. We'll push the window open as well. You might be consigned to this room, but there's no reason you can't enjoy a little bit of the outside air."

"I would rather not have the cold…" Prince Hendrick complained.

"Your fire is well stoked, Prince. You shall be fine," Oliver said. "Look out upon the city. Your situation isn't exactly an admirable one, but is there not beauty to be had? Do you see the old buildings of Ernest? I could stare at them for hours… Well, I should more say that I have stared at them for hours. When your army was marching towards us, and we heard of the scale of it, little more could calm me than looking at the world around me. There's the strangest sort of beauty in this place… It's so much quieter than it used to be."

Prince Hendrick looked at him strangely, hearing him speak of the weeks before battle. It was a curiosity enough that the languid Prince joined him by the open window, arising from his chair, and putting his elbows on the windowsill so that he might look out.

"Those are old buildings, and true enough, the architecture is noteworthy… The stone sculptors must have spent weeks on each of those gargoyles on the church. But it's nothing compared to our Brightplas Capital," Emerson said. "Now there, we fetched some of the finest architects in the country. You see this church, and you celebrate it as a grand achievement. How ought I compare it… This church is like a footsoldier compared to a General, when you see our holy cathedral, and all the spirit that was put into its building. A whole century it took to build. Men gave their lives for it. That's blood, and glory to Claudia. It's the finest testament to progress."

Prince Hendrick spoke passionately enough that he forgot himself. He clenched his fist, and when he turned to look back around, he saw Oliver looking at him with a child's eyes, bright with interest. He felt a sudden flush of embarrassment seeing the look, and realizing that he'd lost control of himself. "Do forgive me. I forgot myself for a moment."

"No," Oliver said. "I would hear more. It sounds a beautiful place. I have spent my life in your Emerson domains, but I have known nothing of your Capital. Nor, truly, anything of you, Prince Hendrick, or anything of the royalty… You are a different man to what I expected."

"I would say that surprises me, but I have heard that your upbringing was somewhat unusual. Your father, the great Dominus Patrick, he had you isolated from the world, did he not?" Prince Hendrick said.

"Isolated from noble society, I would say," Oliver said. "To me, this is the real world. The real world is in those Black Mountains that see us defended from the Yarmdon, and give us the bounty of the forest, and the trees to build our houses with. The real world is with the peasantry, in the mud, where finding food is the foremost of one's tasks. Where one had need to fight for wood for the winter, knowing full well that if they run out, the cold will get them, and they most certainly will not live to see spring."

"…An interesting perspective," Prince Hendrick said, not merely as a passing comment. There was a weight to it that the Prince truly meant. He'd spent every conversation with Oliver Patrick trying to get a measure for the man, and his schemes, and every time he found himself to have failed. He couldn't decide what it was that had bested him, or who it was that had bested him, or whether he could be safe.

It was only this, and now, when Oliver Patrick spoke passionately, childishly, about what was in front of him, that Prince Hendrick thought he had a true glimpse of the man. At the very least, it cast such a bright light on all the darkest parts of the General that had not revealed themselves up until now, that Prince Hendrick had to pay it particular attention.