A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1684 - 1684: Like a Bird - Part 1

"With the likes of your merchants, your hunters, and what you have done with your prisoners, it is clear that I will not be deciphering your methods any time soon – and nor do I want the headache of trying. So I will ignore you, and leave you to your duties. Train those men, keep the prisoners quelled, and gather more supplies if you have the ability to do so. Anything beyond that, you have permission to operate on as well," Blackthorn said.

"Right…" Oliver said, finding the whole proposition still extremely surprising, but he could not deny to himself that he liked the sound of it. To have a man of Blackthorn's ability sitting in defence of Solgrim, and to be given his own sorts of freedoms at the same time certainly gave him far more room than he'd had in a while to operate as he wished to. "Then I would seek permission to take a team of men to Solgrim, and reinspect the state of it after the Emerson departure. I would also take scouts into the Black Mountains, to be sure of any Yarmdon threats that we might face – and scouts to nearby villages."

"You have your permission," Blackthorn said. "For the next two weeks, Ernest has a degree of safety. Use that freedom that you have until then to do what you can. We will see what you can achieve in it. Rightly, you should not be given such leeway - but I will grant it to you regardless."

"…Very well. Thank you for your considerations, General," Oliver said.

Blackthorn grunted. "Report anything significant to me when you do find it. Do not withhold information… And I do suppose that is all I wish to say."

He abruptly cut the conversation short, in typical Blackthorn fashion, as if to speak so much was a matter of the utmost exhaustion for him.

"My Lord wishes to see this meeting closed," Reid offered, now that Blackthorn refused to elaborate anything further. He and Verdant had finished their cleaning of the scattered Battle pieces, and they sat waiting for a fresh opponent to see them played. "You may take your leave."

Oliver dipped his head. "Very well. I leave Ernest in your hands then, General Blackthorn."

When the door was closed, and Oliver and his retainers were out of earshot beyond it, Colonel Reid turned to his General. "Was that wise, my Lord? To treat him so lightly? It seems rather out of character for you."

The General grunted. "He would be useless as he is now. He's in the process of changing something. I cannot force it. The most I can hope for is a useful ally. There is just the barest sense of what Fitzer talked about in him, Reid… Just the barest sense. It operates in some degree of lightness – so aye, I suppose, I shall treat him lightly."

"Hm…" Reid considered the man from the side. It was rare – if completely unheard of – for General Blackthorn to treat anyone lightly. But there was a thoughtful expression on the General's face, and he said nothing more that might see it interrupted.

Oliver had to admit that when he left General Blackthorn, after receiving his new instructions, there was a certain weight of relief. The stress of the interaction didn't allow him to process that relief entirely until that evening – and then once again, a few days later, when it really began to set in just how much he'd been allowed.

Nila had discussed the matter with him at dusk of the same day, when the two of them dared to eye the progress that Firyr was making in training the new recruits. Being that it was the peasant's first day, it seemed necessary to evaluate their state of mind, and at the very least, present the Oliver Patrick that they desired to see to them.

"So, he's basically letting you do what you want?" Nila asked. "That sounds like a good thing to me."

"It's definitely a good thing… I think," Oliver said. "But I still have the sense that there are things that he would rather I do… There are his expectations that I'm meant to guess at. It isn't total freedom."

"Well, he has said anything as far as them, has he?" Nila said. "You could really just do what you want, and then shrug if it doesn't meet his expectations. Why worry? You both have the same goal, don't you? You both wish to defend Ernest. You can just go about it in your way. Isn't that better?"

"It would be… It would be if he definitely meant it, but I'm not so sure he does. It's irritating having to guess at his intentions," Oliver said.

"But no one has said that you need to, Oliver," Nila said. "It's you that is trying to match him. Why worry? Just do what you always do? Isn't this an improvement on our position?"

Their conversation was cut short then, as they neared the new men, hard at work in their training. They could not have been more exhausted. Their faces were drenched in a mixture of sweat and saliva. It was the point of exhaustion where a man's mouth hung open against his will, and his eyes were wide but distant, hardly seeing anything.

Still Firyr barked at them, and made them straighten up. They did so languidly, not recognizing Oliver until he stood right in front of them. And then Oliver's thoughts were gone, and he easily slipped into the role of the General that they expected of him. He was practised in it by now, after training the other peasants in the same manner. He supposed he knew what they at least expected of him.

And even if he did not – he could regather himself. He greeted them, and he paused, watchful, taking note of their dispositions, their minute little reactions to him. He did that with every little sentence he said to them, getting a feel for the group, as he had gotten a feel for the group before them. Indeed, they were very similar – but there was the slightest difference, and in matching that slightest difference, Oliver was able to reach their hearts that much faster.