A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Say that when you can match me in it," Greeves said. "You're still far beneath me, no matter how big you talk, little fox."

"I wouldn't say that, Boss… She's a little menace in her own right," Judas said.

"Who pays you, Judas?" Greeves said, without even turning to look at him.

"…Yer right. Sorry, Nila, I reckon it'll be another decade before you can match the Boss."

Nila rolled her eyes. "Thanks for your input, Judas…"

"The only true test of whether one would be good at something is simply to do it," Verdant said. "And I do not believe that my Lord would find lacking in any department, if he had a genuine interest for it."

"Apart from alchemy," Oliver said. "…Never did get the hang of that."

He'd included alchemy in his courses for the entirety of his Academy stay, but he hadn't managed to achieve anything in it that he could be proud of. It had taken all he had just to keep up a passing grade.

Oliver had opened Skullic's letter three days before his meeting with the smith Daniel Harmon, but it was only the eve of the meeting that he found it in himself to actually process what that letter had said.

He tried to tell himself, in part, that was because the day had gone well with Nila – but he knew that to simply be due to them not being alone together. And yet… He dared to hope. The girl seemed to be making a genuine effort. He did not think her affection for him was feigned. But then, where did her overwhelming fear come from, when the two of them were alone together?

To put both ideas in his head, and to attempt to merge him brought a degree of terror. Was Nila just such a strange girl that she could both fear him and like him at once? Was she merely interested in that which she thought to be frightening? Oliver wasn't sure what he thought of that. He'd never intended to be a particularly frightening person.

Perhaps to his foes, if he wished to make use of Ingolsol's Power, but there had never really seemed to be a need to appear more frightening than he was, even then. He had simply let his sword skills do what needed to be done, and people seemed to find those terrifying enough.

Naturally, Skullic's letter had concerned Nila. Oliver had hoped it would simply be in regards to the campaign. Oliver had much he wanted to say to Skullic, and ask his opinions of, as a General that he was close to, he wanted his opinion on how Blackwell and Karstly had operated.

Blackwell had been one his staunchest allies since Lombard had first introduced them, and Oliver did not wish to forget that fact. But there was an inevitable distance created with Lombard's death, and with the malicious strategy that the great General had chosen to rely on. The thoughts of as many as he could possibly gather, that was what he'd wished for.

In that regard, he'd sent letters of correspondence. To Minister Hod, and to Professor Volguard. Hod, he didn't expect a reply from. The man was an eccentric, and he didn't care whether he offended anyone when he ignored their letters.

Oliver had sent five to him over the course of the time that they'd known each other, and of that five, Hod had only responded to one, and that reply was a simple but emphatic 'No'.

Skullic hadn't even begun his letter with praise, he'd done it with the simple crushing words 'Dear Fool, what is it that you've done this time?'

'Could you not even afford to wait before your next blunder? How is it that you wish to wash away every triumph that you achieve with some other decision made in haste? Do you know how impossible it is to ally yourself with someone like that? Do you know how badly this reflects on me, who they dare to call your mentor, even though you've never listened to a word that I've said?'

'A peasant girl, Patrick… We've discussed how fragile your position is, and you decide not only will you throw away the potential boons that a political marriage would offer, you instead sow discord, by choosing a peasant. Noble purests are sure to resent that. You'll have even more enemies sent your way, without even knowing it.'

"All this from the man that married his maid," Oliver said aloud, wondering how Skullic could summon up such a fury – made event with how hard he'd pressed on the paper with his quill – when he'd done much the same thing.

'And I know what you're thinking – I did the same with Mary. But you're wrong. She isn't a peasant girl. She's a Serving Class girl. One step removed from nobility, and through my marriage to her, she's a noble in turn. Marrying one step above your station, that isn't unheard of… But two?

Besides, Mary is too quality a woman to pass up. It doesn't matter what station she is. Is this girl that you've picked really that? Or have you been smitten by a beauty, you damn fool? Do you give no thought to the future? Marriage… did you have to propose that?

Gods be good that she declined you… But that you're courting… And you always get what it is you want. I have no doubt you'll push for marriage in the end, since you suggested it.'

Skullic's words had devolved into ramblings, as he thought through his complaints, and waded through a sea of hypocrisy in order to try to deliver a point that might convince Oliver. But as of yet, that point was lost on the younger man.

'Don't do anything foolish until next we meet. I will come to this village of yours in three weeks' time, once I have settled matters of my own. We will discuss this then. And on slaying General Zilan – congratulations. As expected.'

"As expected, he says," Oliver tutted. "No one else seemed to think it was expected, least of all me…"

Still, even as he tried to be annoyed at Skullic's phrasing, he couldn't deny that there came a degree of pride with it. 'As expected,' rolled around in his head. That Skullic could see so much in him, that such a mighty feat, of the likes that it had upset a war between more than a hundred thousand men, how could he not be proud?

He'd never seen Skullic do proper battle himself, but he knew that he was spoken of with reverence by the students for his skill.