A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1688 - 1688: Like a Bird - Part 5

"I don't think anyone was expecting you to do that," Judas said, rather good-naturedly, though Firyr still took it as if it were a jab.

"No one's expecting anything from you either, you bloody oaf," Firyr said back. "You should be with those peasants training, I say. The last crop of recruits overtook you. You can hardly run. Weren't you wheezing when we finally got to Prince Hendrick, eh?"

"…Where's this come from?" Judas said.

Firyr shrugged. "Just a thought, ain't it? You're around us, you should be getting stronger, you know. I don't reckon you can be friends with General Patrick and stay weak."

"…Maybe he's got a point, Judas," Greeves said thoughtfully.

"You as well, Boss?" Judas said. "I'm not an old man. I ain't fallen off."

"No. But the people we're around now, they're different to how it was in Solgrim. Aye, you might have been the strongest amongst untrained peasants, but against soldiers, you're not," Greeves said. "A few weeks of proper training did wonders for those peasants, what would it do for you?"

Now even Oliver's interest was beginning to be caught. "You do have an awful lot of potential, Judas. You've endured many battles. There's the weight of experience there. Claudia would shine on you, if you put the training in."

"What do you mean by that, General? You reckon he's that close to the Second Boundary?" Firyr said, almost in alarm.

"Perhaps," Oliver said. "Perhaps. I don't think Judas has ever trained a day in his life, but as far as combat experience goes – even if it has been brawling with those weaker than him for the most part – few have as much experience as Judas. We've overcome much together."

"You're all talking about this as if I don't get a say," Judas said. "Aren't I meant to be looking after you, Boss? What good am I going to do from all the way back here in Ernest?"

"What good are you going to do right next to me when trained soldiers attack?" Greeves said. "If you get stronger, might be that I'd pay you more. Might be that you'd be more useful to me."

"…Pay me more?" Judas said, his eyes finally lighting up at that.

"Naturally, I'd need to see that you'd actually got stronger first," Greeves said. "What do you reckon, Lord Patrick? Should we send him in for some training?"

"I think you should, Judas," Nila said. "Even if not for you, for your wife. If you were better trained, she'd have less reason to worry about you. I won't forgive you if you leave both her and your daughter alone with no one to protect them."

"Ah, damn it… You've all bullied me into this. Just 'cos you know that I don't know how to argue back. Fine, I'll do it. Yer a bastard, Firyr, I hope you know that," Judas said.

"Maybe," Firyr said. "Maybe not. We'll see how far you come with this training, Judas. All I know is that if you passed through the Second Boundary before Karesh, it'd really piss that little shit off." He cast a wide grin at the thought.

"I have no idea of this talk of Boundaries that you all mutter about at times…" Judas said. "But if I'm doing it, I'll give it a shot."

"Why are you standing here, then? They're already training. Get yer arse out there, and tell Jorah what your intentions are," Firyr said.

Judas looked to Greeves and Oliver for permission.

"You may as well," Greeves said. "There ain't much for you to do here."

"Look after the peasants, Judas," Oliver said. "They trust a man like you. You're good with them. I don't imagine the training will be too difficult for you – so I'd like you to keep an eye on those that are struggling, if you can. It'd mean a lot to them."

"Aye. I will do, General," Judas said, saluting before he left.

"Look at him, he's talking like he's a soldier already," Firyr said.

"You were making a joke, but you're the reason this has come about," Oliver said. "You had better keep an eye to your own training. He'll never let you forget it if he ever were to overtake you."

Firyr frowned. "Obviously. I'm not going to slack… But you don't reckon he could, do you?"

"He has all the natural gifts for it, and he has the experience," Oliver shrugged. "There's a dangerous dark horse there. A betting man might take a risk on him."

"I'd gamble on it," Greeves said. "If he beats ya in a duel, Firyr, you owe me ten gold coins."

"Ten?" Firyr said, standing up at that. "You're on merchant. You bear witness, General – he can't shirk this deal. This'll be the easiest ten gold coins of my life."

"Yes, yes," Oliver said, waving his hand with mock impatience, though he failed to hide the traces of the smile that hung around his lips.

"Ha, you're locked in now!" Firyr declared triumphantly, to a rather stoney faced Greeves, who couldn't really have seemed less bothered by their bargain if he had tried to. For him, the likes of ten gold coins was no doubt a paltry sum, but for the likes of Firyr, it was far more than that.

They stumbled their way through their meeting, in a manner that had become almost expected for the Patrick men. Clumsy, most of them were, in one way or another. Even those that were of a sharper mind had their weaknesses that would have made them the strangest of folks in any other social circle – and especially any other war council. There, though, they had their say, and Oliver found uses for each of them. At times, he would offer a quiet word, and an almost guilty express, as if to apologise as to what he asked of them.

He offered that to Verdant, when he mentioned to the man that, though they had been given their freedom, there was still the problem of their relation with the Blackthorn men.