A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"We've never once been friends. I only made your acquaintance a few years ago. Not nearly enough time for me to call a shady man like you anything close to a friend," the armoursmith said emphatically.

"Cruel, that is," Greeves said. "Perhaps it would be best to wait until the end of your contract with the Guild? You'll probably have what, another year or two left? Then you'll be back to forging on your own terms, and you'll be able to take on whatever customers you please."

"…Wouldn't put my hopes on it," the smith said.

"Oh, it's longer? Three years then? That is too late. Ser Patrick would be back on campaign then, I'd suppose."

"More like… ten," the smith said, that last part of his sentence was barely audible, from how he twisted his neck to say it almost to the world behind him.

"Ten?" Greeves said. "Ten, did you say? There's no chance that's true, surely? What manner of a contract could the Guild offer that would make an armorsmith of your quality agree to be trapped for ten years, eh? You could go anywhere, any city in the country, and you'd find work. People would even travel to have work done by you."

"Solgrim's the home," Daniel said. "I ain't moving away from here. I want to see the Black Mountains behind me, and I don't want to be a great distance away from where I was reared. I've a wife and a boy too. Even if I don't care for coin, I can't force them to live the same risks as me. A contract is secure.

Just wasn't quite as good as I thought it would be."

"You could have lived without one," Greeves said. "You would have been comfortable, and you would have been free at least."

"Aye, but you try and rent any smith shop in the city without the approval of the Guild. You'll be paying double for it. Yer materials will cost a finger of the hand more as well – and that doesn't sound much, but that adds up fast. I saw the conditions the Guild was putting out, and why wouldn't I go for? I know you'd do the same, merchant.

You'd bend to their will once you saw the prices, and it would make your life easier," Daniel said. "Just the way it goes. You let something like that grow for a few hundred years, and you're going to have to say your please and thank yous if you want to do business around it."

"Want us to buy you out your contract?" Greeves said, dropping that bombshell all of a sudden, after he had played at speaking subtly for a good while. It was enough to catch even Oliver off-guard, as the merchant broke his own rhythm.

"Eh?" Daniel said. "Yer making jokes, merchant. You're at least a decade younger than me, ain't you? You ought to be showing me some respect. You asked about my business, I could have told you to piss off. But I saw a customer, and potential, and I thought I'd indulge you a bit.

And you make a mockery of me as a result."

"Not a mockery, good friend," Greeves said. "We're quite serious. We'd like you to make armour for our Lord. The exit fee for your contract will be what? Two years up front?"

"That's no small amount of coin," the smith said, frowning. "If you knew the numbers you wouldn't even make jokes about it."

"Well, that Ser there took the head of a General on campaign," Greeves said. "Money isn't as much of a problem as his new suit of armour is. I'm sure you'll appreciate the sort of importance placed in a General slayer's armour?"

The smith stiffened. "…I'd heard the rumours, but I didn't think I could outright ask."

"I thought you were being a bit eager," Greeves said, showing his teeth. "You would have ordinarily declined, that's what I know of you. If you were busy, you wouldn't be inviting more work on your plate. But even your likes wants to make pieces for the accomplished, don't you?"

"So it's true, then?" The armorsmith asked. Not Greeves, but Oliver.

"It's true," Oliver said passively. "But I expect you'll find out the news soon enough yourself, when General Blackwell returns to Ernest and he makes his announcements to his people."

"You are young…" the armorsmith noted. "Could be that you've still some growing to do… A suit of armour now might be outgrown in three years. But then… you're young – you ought not to be slaying Generals in the first place. But you are a Patrick…"

The man's hand was in the thick of his beard as he attempted to sort through the situation laid out in front of him.

"So? What about it?" Greeves said. "Fancy making a suit of armour for a General slayer, Daniel? And a thank you wouldn't go amiss. When I heard what Ser Patrick was looking for, I told him that there isn't a man for a hundred miles around that would make him a better set than you."

"You said that, did you?" The smith said, straightening. "Aye. I can do that. I can make you something that'll feel like it's water around your body, from how well it matches your shape. You wouldn't even know you've got it on, but when a blade comes looking for you, it'll go bouncing off as if it's been hit by a shield."

"We'll buy you out of that contract as well, eh?" Greeves said. "We'll hurry this along. Could be that you just make armour for Ser Patrick from now on, mm? There would be enough coin for it. Oh, and the rest of the Patrick Commanders.

Lord Idris there was mentioning how he could do with a new suit, and I imagine Lady Blackthorn will be wanting for something, after she returns to Solgrim from her visit home."

"Work for nobles… Proper nobles," the smith murmured. "I don't know why you're so set on buying me out of my contract, merchant… But I'm leaning towards agreeing to it. It seems a foolish thing for you to be doing, with that amount of coin, but if you're pressing the issue, I'm not shy enough to say no.

The only issue is going to be getting back into the contract when the work dries up… Might be that I'll be left high and dry."