A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1769 - 1769: Wounded Pride - Part 4

He could bear it no longer. Before Oliver knew what he was doing, his dagger was drawn from his belt, and he was driving his blade down towards his hand. It pierced through, straight out in through the palm, pinning the trembling hand against the table. As blood pooled beneath it, Oliver's trembling finally did stop.

Tempest only smiled and shook his head at the action. "It is already done, Tempest," he said. "She is already here. In running away from it, you only sprint towards it faster. The wind will not allow you to run – it will force you to fly."

With Tempest's premonition, the door swung open. Nila had declared that she would visit before she retired for the night. She'd said so a good couple of hours ago, but Oliver had forgotten, so absorbed he was in his own violent pondering.

For her to open the door then – in that exact moment. The timing could not have been worse. He saw the smile that she had intended to greet him with fade, replaced by a look of terror and hurt as she saw the state that he was in.

He regretted it then, more than anything. He didn't want to see that look on her face ever.

"Oliver…" She said, her words like a whisper in her throat. She came over to him on shaky legs. Her face had the expression of betrayal. She looked at him, looking for answers within his eyes. She saw the stains of tears on his cheeks, and Oliver knew he could hide it no longer. The truth of it was laid bare to her.

Tears fell down her cheeks, as she embraced him. She buried her face in the back of his neck. "Please… Please… Please…" She said to him. "Please, Oliver. Please. Never, never, never. Not you, not ever. Please…"

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," Oliver said, returning her embrace with his freehand.

"Promise me," Nila said. "Please, promise me. Never again."

"I promise," Oliver sobbed. "I promise."

Gently, she saw the dagger pried free from his hands. One would have thought she was working with a child from how tenderly she worked. She said nothing, as she fetched a thread and needle to stitch his hand, and then nothing still as she saw a bandage worked around it. Only when she'd mopped up the blood entirely from the desk did she turn to him again, sterner now, almost cross.

"You," she said. "Talk to me."

Oliver pulled his lips together, attempting to. But he felt like a child confessing to some sort of crime. He couldn't get the words out, without some degree of embarrassment. He didn't even know what to tell her, for he knew not entirely what he felt.

She sighed, realizing that he wouldn't move. Her hand reached out, and she patted his head, running her fingers through his hair. He let her do that for a while, before he leaned against her, his eyelids drooping. He quickly found himself feeling ever so tired.

"…I don't want to do it," he told Nila eventually.

"You don't want to do what?" Nila asked.

"…I don't know," Oliver said pathetically. "What is asked of me, I suppose… I don't want to do more than we already do. It's too frightening."

"And here I thought that nothing frightened you," Nila said, though her tone was not mocking. She leaned her head against his. "Are you forced to do it?" She asked, as if she understood, even though there was no way she truly could, Oliver was sure.

"…I think so," he said. "I don't know what else to do."

"Is that why you hurt yourself?"

"Maybe," Oliver said.

"Is it not something you can bear?"

Oliver shook his head, very much like a child. "It's too much. I don't deserve it. I don't understand it. I don't want any more than I already have, Nila. It's spinning out of control. Who am I? Already… Already, far too soon, they call me General. What more is there beyond General?"

The words hung in the air. The two of them thought on it, and more than a few ideas came up as to what was beyond a General.

"I don't want to lose you," Oliver said. "I don't want to lose Verdant, or Lasha, or any of our friends. Why am I made to do more? Why can I not stand still? What will I become?"

"Oliver…" Nila said, kissing his head. "I truly regret to tell you, but you're already beyond that point, I think. You couldn't stand still even if you wished to."

"…What's the use in movement if I lose what's important to me?"

"Is that what you fear?" Nila asked.

"Amongst other things."

"Could I bear it with you?" Nila asked. "If we made a promise to continue together, no matter what happens, would that change things?"

"…Would you really do that?" Oliver asked, pulling back so that he could look at her.

The girl nodded. "It's reassuring for me as well. You're always a man of your word. I don't want to lose you either. If we had a promise, I could trust that forever, you'll be there."

"Then let's promise," Oliver said, sticking out his hand, and his pinky finger.

"A pinky promise?" Nila giggled. "You're reallllly childish at times.

"C'mon, it just means more, doesn't it?" Oliver said.

"Fineee," she grasped his finger. "I promise to always be beside you, Oliver. Forever."

"I promise the same."

"You can't even say it properly?"

"…I promise to be beside you, Nila. Forever."

"Thereeee," Nila said, whipping her hand away. "Is that better?"

Oliver paused for a second to think on it, and he smiled. "Somehow, I think it is."

"And do you think anything could happen that could ever pull Verdant away from you? That retainer of yours may as well be in love with you," Nila said.

"Well… I suppose that's hard to imagine."

"So, there's nothing to worry about, is there?" Nila said. "Whatever you think has to happen, you can let it happen. You can be all that you feel you need to be. And I'll be here for you, at the end of each day."

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