A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Reassure him against what, Oliver did not know, but he sensed – just like with his own body – that the implications of breaking through to the Third Boundary prematurely had not been light. But, it had been necessary for survival.

With the priest sharing hushed conversation with Gavlin, and Kaya and Karesh too excited to do more than merely marvel at Oliver as though he wasn't real, Jorah eyed Blackthorn and her retainers, to see if she would step forward to say something, but the young Lady hung back, unsure.

She didn't know what to say. She likely didn't even know what to make of the situation. Jorah didn't even know. What they'd seen hadn't just been the slaying of the Boulder Crab. It had been more than that. The Boulder Crab had been stronger than Oliver Patrick at the start of the fight, to the point where it could easily toss him around and batter him.

That was the same Oliver Patrick that had thrown Bournemouth around, slain Hobgoblins with ease, and instilled a rumour of legend of himself coming from the village of Solgrim.

That wasn't the same Oliver Patrick that stood before him. In the midst of combat, he'd grown. His strength had increased. Jorah noted that, and dared to ask.

"Is that what you meant when you said we needed adversity in order to forge together what we'd already been taught?" Jorah asked, nodding to the Boulder Crab. "Is that what you did there?"

Oliver offered a strained smile. "Something like that. Though, I hope for you, it's less messy… This was reckless today, all the way through. From the march to the battle. I apologise for that."

Jorah nodded slowly. "But you don't seem to regret it…"

A long sigh, and Oliver shook his head. "It was necessary for me. It should not happen again."

"The risk to you… that seems to be a more important problem than the quickness of the march. I do not think you ought to apologise for that," Jorah said. "Though, perhaps it would seem that to be your retainer is to expect you to place yourself at risk… This doesn't seem to be the position of protection normally expected for a retainer."

"No," Oliver agreed. "It isn't. From my retainers, I only hope for them to grow their own strength, for the sake of building a force. I do not expect protection."

"Yet we are sworn to do that regardless," Jorah said awkwardly. "It would make the job far less stressful if this weren't a common occurrence. Though, I suppose, we've only been undertaking such tasks for a day or two. Perhaps I am merely babbling to myself, Ser, because I don't know quite what to say."

"Then let us agree that you've said enough," Oliver said with a smile. "Thank you for your concern, Jorah," he said, patting him on the shoulder.

"I'm glad to have gotten off lightly," Jorah said with a smile. "Today has been eventful, Ser, and I expect I'll have much to consider when we make it back." He bowed his head once again, and moved off to the side, making room for Blackthorn, should she wish to speak. Discover hidden stories at empire

Oliver glanced at her for a moment. The girl still hadn't budged. He wasn't going to force her to say anything. He hadn't wanted to turn the whole event into a victory parade. They'd merely begun that order themselves, and he'd allowed them that chance.

Pauline jabbed her mistress in the side. Lasha turned sharply and narrowed her eyes like an angry cat. Pauline didn't shrink under the glare, and with a scowl, Lash forced herself to walk forward.

"Good job," she said simply. She didn't seem to exactly mean those words, or at the very least, she didn't seem happy about them.

"Thank you," Oliver said. There was likely more he could have added too, but his mind wasn't exactly at its sharpest. Instead, their short exchange of words extended into an awkward silence, one that Blackthorn was forced to break.

"Uhm… Does it hurt?" She pointed to his back. It took her point for him to even remember the gash was there. It was deep enough, but not the worst cut he'd had. Perhaps some stitches would have been good for it, but he reasoned he could probably get away with a poultice. The wound bisected the recently healed scars from the whip, which should have made it all the more painful.

"Mm. Not really. Not yet," Oliver said honestly. "I expect it will, once the adrenaline has worn off."

"Cold?" She asked instead. He'd lost his shirt and jacket in the fight. After the Boulder crab had sliced through and torn it more than once, it had become more of a liability to keep than an asset.

"Soon, I expect," he said again.

"Your new coat will be well-timed then, I think," she said.

"I wouldn't risk it on the likes of monster hunting," Oliver said, horrified by the thought. "That would be a terrible waste of gold."

She blinked at him, and tilted her head to the side, hardly understanding. She certainly didn't seem to wear old clothes for their expeditions. She was well dressed, even now, though her clothing was more practical than that which she usually wore. They fit more closely to her body, though it was still a dress and a blouse that she wore. "That seems like too much worrying," she decided.

With a great sigh, Oliver shook his head. "Alright, that's enough out of you," he said. "They're finishing up with their talk," he said, gesturing to Verdant and Gavlin, "have Pauline and Amelia ready to move. It'll be easier on the way back, but still hard, make sure to warn them."

"Mm, okay," Blackthorn said simply. She turned away, to do as she was told, but just before she left, she turned to pat Oliver on the head. "Good job," she said again, simply, with a small smile this time. Seeing that smile, Oliver wondered if he'd misinterpreted her being upset before.