A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Bitterness did nothing but remove hesitation," Oliver said. "If your Guild would see us crushed, because it sees threat in the prosperities of our markets, then we have no recourse but to defend ourselves. If a Lord does not prove magnanimous in his rule, then one cannot quietly leave himself undefended against him."

"Is that a twofold threat?" Ferdinand said.

"It is a statement based on history, Lord Idris," Verdant said. "My Lord Patrick rightfully points out that if you move like a tyrant, then the consequences of a tyrant will inevitably follow you. Your anger, perhaps, is justified – but not under any sort of law. It is the anger of a man who has lost the first of a competition. That does not make us enemies, Lord Blackwell. That makes us rivals."

"Rivals? Us? With a mere peasant village?" Ferdinand snorted. "Have you forgotten who gave you this village, boy? My father! You had nothing, until my father handed it to you!

You should be on your knees, every day, giving thanks for all that has been sent your way."

"And what of your position, my Lord?" Oliver said with icy calm. "What of your achievements? Was it competence that gave you the saddle that you currently sat in? If this room was darkened, if the world was flattened, and none was owned, and none were sworn, where do you suppose our standings might be?"

"That, is treasonous," Ferdinand bristled. "You have layered threats upon threats, Ser Patrick. If not for my father's favour of you, I would have your head struck from your shoulders this instant."

"A wise amount of caution," Oliver said. "A conclusion best carried over to all your dealings. You do not have the gumption necessary to bring me to heel, Lord Ferdinand. You have made your distaste expressly clear, but I will not yield to simply sullied emotions. There is naught that could bid me to.

I will continue as I will, and until your father returns, and he expresses the same thoughts that you do on the matter, I will not consider changing."

"You stand against me, then?" Ferdinand said. "Could your declaration be any more simple than that? You have sworn an oath to my father – to the entirety of the Blackwell line—"

"No," Oliver said. "My oath was to your father alone. You can not claim his accomplishments for your own."

The young man reddened at that, as he had reddened at none of the other japes before.

"Very well, Patrick… Very well indeed. You have sullied it," Ferdinand said. "I will not meet with you again. You could have solved this peaceably, but you have made an enemy instead. If you had yielded to me, and given back what was mine – we would have come to terms, we would have benefitted each other… Well, I have to thank you, I suppose.

This is the famed Patrick honestly, that which gave rise to the ruined House that you are now the sole member of. Indeed, indeed. The son commits the same mistakes as the father. The son walks the same treacherous path, and who am I to stop him? I tried to warn you, but… Oh, no. This is where we are left up."

"If that is the conclusion that you have come to, my Lord, I will not hurry to change your mind," Oliver said. "Perhaps, however, if you wished to make a threat, you ought to bring more knights with you than a mere two."

The two guards that he had brought were on their feet. Ser Holder, who had spoken up to Oliver earlier, was less committed to his role, but his other companion bore undisguised aggression. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he stood ready, expecting the order to cut down their foe at any minute.

"A threat?" Ferdinand laughed. "Is that what you thought it was?" He stood up now, wearing a manic smile. "Oh no, Patrick. That was not a threat. You are quite right. Solgrim is beginning to pose a problem for our markets.

Since you yourself have declared a state of competition, like us compete – but without the gloves on. There will be lives on the line here, Patrick. When you lose, your people will starve, and you will only have yourself to blame. I will crush this village."

"Now there's something spoken more truthfully," Oliver said, standing to meet him. "Competition, Lord Ferdinand. Let us see what you truly are, behind that noble façade. Are your forever doomed to live in your father's shadow, or is there a competence to you, in matters of governance, that others do not yet realize?

At the very least, I hope, when we do our battling, you will not allow yourself to be overshadowed by the old men of your Merchant's Guild. That would sully the fight indeed."

"Pah! You dishonour me, a hundred times over, Ser Patrick. You brought this on yourself. It could have been easy. Let me remind you again – there are lives on the line. And they will know who to curse, when their people starve, because of you.

Just because I do not swing a sword half so savagely as you, I can see you underestimate me. But worry not. No, you need not worry. As you have said, perhaps in jest, you have wandered closer to the truth. Whilst my father has warred, I have governed. You will see it soon enough.

In matters such as this, I am not easily matched. I need no assistance from other bodies. I am quite enough to deal with you myself."

"Well," Oliver said, extending a hand, and giving his best smile. "I did not think we could have come to so fine an agreement today, Lord Blackwell. We both came, wearing our irritation. But look – do we both not leave satisfied?"

Ferdinand took his hand, as strongly as he could. He tried to squeeze it, and pull him in at the shoulder, but Oliver gave no signs of budging. "Satisfied – indeed, Ser Patrick. I shall be."

It was the quickest shake of the hand, and then the man was striding away, paying him not a single backwards look. "A month – that is all I suppose it would take to crush the trade of a village like this. I shall see you in a month, Ser Patrick, and we will see just how satisfied I might be."