A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"…You're making him share the floor?" Oliver said, putting a hand to his head. "He came all the way here from the Capital, for my benefit, and we can't even get him a floor of his own? Gods be good… I wonder what the man is thinking… I wonder what Skullic is thinking, for that matter. I think they forgive me a small distance, knowing I am what I am… but I must seem terribly ungrateful."

"Ehhhh, there's nothing to be done, we don't have the space," Greeves said, shrugging, like it wasn't his problem. "And it ain't like you've got the coin to be throwing up any more new buildings, especially ones with a noble's decorations. You'll just have to apologize in the morning."

"I'm glad you're not worried," Oliver said dryly.

"Obviously, it's nothing to do with me," Greeves said. "You'll survive, and if you don't, well that's piss poor management on your part, what can I say?"

"Rather than buildings, we should get some spikes," Oliver said. "And heft you up on a few of them. See if that teaches you to care just a fraction about the problems of others."

"What do you mean? I've been working, haven't I? The village hasn't fallen apart since you've gone, Harmon is settled in. Everything is proceeding smoothly. Yer the one bringing in chaos that I have to bloody solve. Gods forgive me if I don't want to stick my fingers into every pile of shit that you drop at my door," Greeves said.

"…That seems like a most unwise description," Verdant said icily. "Do correct me if I am wrong, Merchant Greeves, but it does sound as if you have likened the honoured Professor Volguard, who has come all this way to see our Lord taught, to a pile of dung?"

"I think you might be reading into it, Lord Idris," Greeves said. His impatience was making him reckless, and he seemed to realize that himself, for he picked his gaze up off the table, stretched out his back, and started making his preparations to leave. "All I'm saying, gentlemen, is that things are likely to be busy, and you've made my life no pissin' easier.

A nice pile of coin would have been nice to work with, but instead, we have to do things the bloody proper way… It's going to be a pain in the arse."

"The very sort of thing that you're an expert at dealing with, then," Oliver said, smiling.

"Aye, aye, now I want to do it even less," Greeves said. "Well, I'm leaving. As you said, there are matters to attend, and even though you noble types get to keep prancing around, we, the peasantry, have to work hard to keep it all up afloat."

"As if you have ever worked hard a day in your life," Oliver said. "You make your people do the hard work. Your skill is in controlling all the different puppet strings."

"And look at my fingers," Greeves said, holding his hands up just before he opened the door. "Don't yer see how much they're bleeding from messing with the strings as much as you're forcing me to? Push me any more, and my fingers will drop off."

"I'm sure you'll manage," Oliver said.

"Glad to hear that you're filled with sympathy, you bastard," Greeves said. "I ain't callin' you Lord, or nothin'. You can shoot me the looks all you want, Lord Idris, and you as well, Lady Blackthorn. This is the bloody Lord I have to deal with, and 'pleases' and 'thank yous' don't work on him. Not that this works either. Damn it all.

I'm off. I suppose I'll be forced to see you again tomorrow."

He slammed the door shut after him. It was hard to tell at what point Greeves grew genuinely irritated, or at what point he was playing up the joke. But at the very least, Oliver could tell that man had felt a genuine sense of fright from the two Second Boundary retainers staring his way. They were the instincts of a sensible man.

"That man certainly has a foul mouth," Verdant said, wrinkling his nose. "I wish you would not permit his way of speaking to you, my Lord. For a man of his station, that disrespect is unforgivable."

"I am in agreement," Lady Blackthorn added.

"Ah, leave him to it," Oliver said. "I am just as bad. And in truth, I enjoy speaking frankly with him like that when the opportunity presents itself. He knows there's a line – when you two are here – that he shouldn't cross. He's just doing what a man like him does best, and pushing at that line."

"Perhaps we had better frighten him away from it then," Verdant said.

"Leave him, I say. I think a good deal of what he said is true. I'm asking much for him, and I have been able to provide as much assistance as I would hope. The truth is that, these dusty books, when compared with the coin that we could otherwise have, they're next to worthless…" Oliver said.

"There is one element, there, that the merchant has failed to consider," Verdant said. "I had thought to add it earlier, but I did not wish to interrupt."

"Hoh? And what's that?" Oliver asked.

"Did you not notice the interest that it has attracted from our high-standing companions?" Verdant said. "From Hod, to Skullic, to even Lord Blackwell. They have all expressed an interest in seeing these books read."

"…And what would you propose? That we charge them for their reading?" Oliver asked.

Verdant frowned. "That seems a little direct, my Lord. Uncouth, one might say. But there is surely a weight to be had on a negotiating table, now that we know these different men have a want for it. Surely we can entertain that want, whilst asking favour in another regard. That is the proper way of the world, after all.

They would only be glad to, I would think. In their position, I would prefer the same. A man should be careful about owing a favour – they would far prefer to pay for the gesture, in some way or another."