A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 894: Those That Anger - Part 1

When Oliver said it like that, Verdant believed him. It was a strange thing indeed. The High King of the entirety of the Stormfront, with all its affluence, and with all the many Lords bending their knees to him, and then there was Oliver Patrick, declaring that he would be victorious against such a man.

Logic ought to dictate the choosing of the High King over any other, but it was with a strange certainty that both Verdant and the Fragment of Bohemothia chose to align their lots with Oliver Patrick.

"You're kidding," was the first thing that Nila said when she was told. Her face fell – and pretty face it had become, in her years of maturing. She was a startlingly beautiful woman now, eclipsing even her mother, Mrs Felder. She had a certain wildness to her that gave her an edge of intrigue.

More than a few visiting merchants had already sent proposals her way, but she seemed set to continue declining all of them.

"It's true," Lady Blackthorn said, speaking on Oliver's behalf. She'd come with Oliver on his visit to Solgrim, as she often did. Over the years, Nila and Blackthorn had grown into firm – but rather strange friends.

The matter of the difference in their station ought to have been a constant source of friction, but somehow the two managed to speak to each other as equals, much to the chagrin of Pauline and Amelia.

When confronted on it, and asked why she accepted such words from a peasant, Blackthorn had declared, rather self-deprecatingly "I am not yet the equal of this woman".

No one accepted that comment, not even Nila herself, but the very fact that a noble – and a Lord's daughter at that – had said such a thing had created the seedbeds for a relationship to blossom between the two.

Nila scratched her head, and sighed. "I thought we were past this," she said. "We almost died trying to get him off our backs, and now he's back again?"

"You say 'we', but this is very much my problem, Nila," Oliver said. "This will not affect you. The war is as far away as far gets. It's the other end of the country."

The red-haired girl gave him a grating look. "Are you stupid?" She said, before looking past Oliver to confirm the same thing with Blackthorn. "Is he stupid?"

"…I think he lacks understanding of certain things," Blackthorn said carefully. She never dared to criticize Oliver outright. Since the Battle of Fort Macalister and her surpassing of the Second Boundary, she'd begun to treat Oliver with almost a degree of reverence.

Her father, Lord Blackthorn, had finally been forced to relent to his daughter's wishes, when she presented her status as one amongst the Blessed. There was nought he could say in the face of her determination, especially given that she had achieved it so young – the second youngest in history, save for Oliver and Nila.

"More than that," Nila said. "You understand your soldiers very well, Oliver, and I can certainly be proud when I speak of you, and tell others that… But your estimations of those that care for you – they're always off. Frustratingly so. I've half a mind to slap you."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't," Oliver said, wincing. There were a good few people present in Oliver's Solgrim house. They'd all piled themselves into the living room, both peasants and nobles alike – though it was hard to think of someone like Nila as a peasant. Even the way she dressed – though she wore the trousers of a hunter – was refined enough to be that of a noble.

"Then you can stop trying to distance me from our problems," Nila said. "I should not need to say this, but if there is trouble, all of Solgrim stands with you. All the wealth and prosperity that has been brought in – the people won't forget. They can't forget. They see your father's statue every day, and they remember."

Oliver knew that to be true. Often enough, he was still greeted by the occasion tear-stained bow, as he was given thanks out of nowhere. Even with all the damage to the village recovered from, the psychological scars of the Battle of Solgrim still remained, and Oliver was reminded of that fact in those moments.

"Apologies," Oliver said, doing his best to throw off Nila's anger, so he could proceed with the conversation.

"Not accepted," Nila sniffed. "I suppose I'll be adding that to the list of things to be angry at you for. You're truly terrible at showing any shred of remorse."

"Then I won't try to," Oliver said. "The matter is simple enough, Nila. When Blackwell returns, I likely will be gone with him. In the time that I am away on campaign, I will need to leave the matters of governance in hands that I can trust."

"Greeves will be here shortly, you can tell him then," Nila said, leaning back in her chair, and crossing her legs. She had her own overwhelming confidence to her now, after achieving all that she had. Though she despised the sight of the battlefield, she was a Second Boundary woman in her own right, and an accomplished merchant and hunter at that.

"I'm telling you for a reason," Oliver said. "It would please me if you would take over my position whilst I am gone."

There was a general murmuring of surprise from the entire room at that. Nila seemed caught off guard as well.

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"What? Why not Greeves?" She frowned.

"Greeves is competent beyond measure," Oliver said, "but if he doesn't have someone to reign him in, he'll get out of hand."

"Is the same not true of you?" Nila teased.

"I'll have plenty of people to reign me in. I'm going to be a mere minor officer at best. Perhaps they'll simply make a footsoldier out of me," Oliver said. "Greeves on the other hand won't. The villagers respect you, and they'll listen to you in my absence. You seem like the obvious choice."