A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

It might have sounded ambitious from the mouths of another youth, but from Nila, it seemed like a certainty. She already had a store of her own in Ernest, as well as one in Solgrim, though neither was quite large enough to make waves amongst the merchant's guild quite yet.

One of Greeves maids came hurrying in with a tray stacked high with silverware. There was a silver jug wafting the calming aroma of tea, and there were a number of silver jars that were sure to hold all sorts of goodies.

Judas couldn't hide the fact that he was eyeing them, even in knowing that the presence of the serving girl was less about function, and more about the signal that they had agreed on beforehand.

The room stiffened up as one, knowing that what followed their agreed upon signal of the serving girl was sure to be the delegates sent by the merchant guild, along with whatever guard they had brought with them.

A knock at the door soon made obvious that fact. A Patrick footsoldier, allowed them in, with all the serve formalities that only those that truly had seen combat were capable of.

The merchants drifted into the room. Three old men, all with long beards, and even longer robes. The robes dragged along the varnished wood of the floor, obscuring whatever footwear they might have been wearing. They reminded Oliver of a noble woman's dress, but he thought it was likely best not to mention that.

Greeves had told him that it would likely be 'the old men' sent for the meeting, but he had not told him any more than that, and Oliver had not supposed that they would be quite so old as they were. They were old enough, and wrinkled enough, that it was almost an achievement that they were still clinging to life.

And even more of an achievement that they were walking on their own – though one of them did so with the aid of a cane with a golden handle.

Their richness was made clearly known, even if it was not excessive. They each wore a long chain of a different style, though the fact of the gold of it, and the large quality of jewels, seemed to be a staple. Their fingers too never seemed to be empty of rings. One old man even sported a pair of heavy earrings in his long dangling earlobes.

They came in full of confidence, and the rest of the room rose to greet them. Oliver, however, remained sitting, as Greeves had emphatically made sure he understood to do so. "These men are your lessers," Greeves said. "They're just merchants of the Serving Class, even if they are at the very pinnacle of that. They wouldn't send any of the guild's nobles for a mere meeting with the likes of us."

There was the barest hint of surprise in the sleepy eyes of the old men when they saw Oliver sitting there, but that did not stop them from bending at the waist, and giving a bow that was as slow as the growing of tree branch.

"Greetings, governors of Solgrim. Greetings, Ser Patrick," the tallest of the three old men intoned ponderously, his sleepy eyes firmly fixed on the floor ahead of him.

"Greetings, merchants of Ernest," Oliver replied in turn.

Only two of the merchant's guards had followed them inside, but Oliver was given to expect that there would be more of them stationed outside.

They were each shown to their seats, and made aware of the refreshments that the maids could offer them. They silently nodded along with all that they were told, as if they were only half listening. Oliver could guess that they must have gone through the same formalities thousands of times over during the course of their long careers.

"We had not expected your presence, Ser Patrick," the tallest of the old merchants sent, his tone bearing just the faintest whiff of accusation.

Greeves gave a troubled smile. "Nor had I," he said. "Else I might have informed you."

The stiffness of the silence that followed Greeves' rebuttal made it clear that those old men didn't quite believe him.

"You need not let it trouble you, however," Greeves said. "Ser Patrick has only stated that he wishes to observe the proceedings. We will conduct our business as we usually might."

"Oh? Observing, is it?" The old man with ringed ears said, nodding his head, his earrings bobbing along with him. "Most wise. Most wise, Ser. The youth are always keen to act, but few have the patience to simply watch, and to simply learn."

"Well then, breaking straight into the matter at hand," the tallest old man said – Oliver was beginning to take him for the leader of the three – reaching for one of the cups set out onto the table, already filled with tea. "We have reasons to doubt the current security measures put in place by the village of Solgrim. I am quite sure you understand why.

Given that you were under attack just recently, the strength of old measures cannot be taken to be sufficient as we once supposed they were. That is to say nothing of your walls that are still blackened and weak from the attacks that they suffered, as is your gate."

Oliver did as he said he would, and he simply listened, but he didn't have to be an expert to tell that the merchant's purposeful under evaluation of the progress that they'd made in repairs was for the sake of jockeying for more leverage in their negotiations.

Nearly a month had now passed since Oliver's return to Solgrim, and with the help of Nila, carefully identifying each building that needed to be replaced, they'd made great strides in seeing the citizenry's houses restored, or otherwise rebuilt. The gate, and the walls, had only had minor repairs performed on them.

Oliver had dared to take that risk, supposing that his strength might be able to make up for their lacking, and deciding that returning homes and comfort to the exhausted townsfolk was of higher priority.