A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"That is all that I needed to hear, my Lord," Verdant said. "For what it is worth, I do not think Lady Felder will want to hear talk of any regrets that you might have. She put more thought into this than you did – she made the decision ready to carry the burden. One cannot fault her for that."

"Have I disappointed you, Verdant?" Oliver said. "I imagine this is not the plan that you supposed for me. You have listened to my scheming, and indulged me, and seen a course towards progress together. With my haste, I have slowed all such things down."

"I could not call myself disappointed," Verdant said. "You are who you are, my Lord. This is the man that I swore to serve. Lady Felder, if you do marry, I think, will be a good temperance for you. If one ignores her station, she is a woman of the finest sort. Your time with her would be more fruitfully spent than a match arranged for the sake of politicking."

"Perhaps…" Oliver said. "Or perhaps I put on her the burden of my need for change. I am lacking something more than simple strength, and I do not know quite what it is. I thought it to be strategy, and true enough, I could see improvements there… But the logical outcome that sits at the end of the road, in the form of Karstly and Blackwell, as mighty as they are… I do not want to be them.

I wish to rival them. A different path, if it is at all possible. Even in saying that, I feel as if I've lost all hope. What more could there be?"

"Time will see all revealed, I am sure, my Lord," Verdant said. "I have every hope that you should find that alternative path, as I have said before. I would not wish to witness another massacre of the sort that Blackwell and Karstly carried out."

"Indeed," Oliver said quietly.

A knock at the door confirmed the arrival of the expected Greeves.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," he said. He somehow managed to turn even politeness into a sort of fork-tongued jape as he made his sweeping bow.

"Any news?" Oliver said.

"Patience, Ser Patrick. Two hundred men will take time to come by, and besides, you'll want the finest sort, won't you? There's no point in rushing, not when you already have to train them up. May as well find better raw materials, aye?"

"And if there is an attack in the meantime?" Oliver asked.

"Then our mighty General slayer will crush them all at the gates, I am sure," Greeves said. "We've still three hundred men, with the numbers that you brought back, and the numbers that remained of ours. Isn't that enough for you? How many could you turn away with that?"

"Depending on their leader, I am sure a thousand would not pose an issue, would it, my Lord?" Verdant said. The man might have not realized how boastful he sounded, but there was only seriousness written on his face.

Sullenly, Oliver had to admit his agreement. As much as it felt like he was overestimating himself, he could not imagine losing to any foe of a thousand when he had the walls and three hundred men between them.

"But that does not mean you can afford to slack, Greeves," Oliver said. "Five hundred men would see us with proper security. And besides, Lady Blackthorn is due to return home soon enough. We will lose her remaining Blackthorn strength, and her strength along with it."

"Ah, yes… She is not namesworn, that one, is she?" Greeves said, setting into the opposite chair with a great creaking of wood. "You should ask her. Wouldn't it be more straightforward? You've been fighting together all this time. It's strange that she hasn't declared herself for you already."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at him. "I do not intend to ask more of her than I already have, much less forcing her into a lifelong pact. These things are not so freely given. You make light of them when you act like they're such a casual affair."

"I do not think she would be disinclined from it, however…" Verdant said thoughtfully. "Though now would not likely be the time to ask. She has been considerably irritable as of late."

"Do not ask her, Verdant," Oliver said. "There is no reason to restrict her unnecessarily. If she wishes to give her name, then let her give it freely. Or more like, would it even be wise of me to accept if she did? Your own freedoms have been restricted without true need. You would have had any easier time of it if you hadn't declared yourself so early."

"And would you have been able to rely on me if I hadn't?" Verdant said. "I am sworn to carry out your will. That is quite different from merely serving you for the time being."

"Well, whatever you two decide to do, it seems to be going fine to me," Greeves said. "Solgrim still stands. The repairs are going smoothly. Life is as good as it can get, I do declare."

That good mood seemed suspicious to Oliver. The Greeves he'd left before the campaign hadn't been prone to that sort of positive emotion. "Have you been drinking?"

"Not yet," Greeves said. "But I might plan to later, if work goes well." He grinned as he said that, as if it was some false secret and grand joke, and not a matter that he'd been struggling with for years on end. "Ah, yes. There were two more reports to deliver, weren't there… Your promissory note has come from General Blackwell.

All that good weighty coin… It's got his seal on it, and his stamp, to be certain. You'll have to take it to Ernest bank if you want to redeem it – but you'd better bring a wheelbarrow."

"There's that much?" Oliver said, surprised that even Greeves was blown away by the number.

"Oh aye, Oliver, that's General's pay. Two good years of it. Did you think that it would be any different?" Greeves said. "They're at the top, the very top. This is money meant for city dwellers to keep their castles growing and repaired. For us peasants of the village, it's an impossible amount.

You could see Solgrim with a hearty degree of changes if you wanted to," Greeves said.