A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

When they heard the rest of the hall resume their eating, with the clang of knives and forks on plates and gentle conversation once more filling the room, they continued their conversation.

"Did you not just point out all the reasons why that would be a bad idea," Oliver asked, as he took a sip of his own drink. A lovely cherry juice. The sort of richness afforded only to nobility. He enjoyed it immensely.

"Indeed. As the oldest son of three, I was meant to be my father's inheritor, three years back. I declined, after my shipwreck, and came here. That angered him. He's since said that he would name my brother heir in my place, as a threat, I assume, but he has not declared it officially.

I have no doubt that once he hears of me swearing loyalty to the son of Dominus Patrick, there will be no end of trouble," Verdant said.

"And you have no interest in being an heir?" Oliver asked.

"I am but a servant of Bohemothia. I have since learned that there are far more interesting things in the world than the squabble of nobility. I see the weakness in these structures and institutions that we nobles dedicate our lives to – indeed, the very systems that we see as reality themselves. They are not that. They are not it. There are forces that move beyond them, such as yourselves.

We live in a time of change. We live in a time of greatness, a time of tigers. Monstrous men are springing up at an impossible rate all across this small world of ours. The noble games that were so important years ago, they cease to be now.

My father will scold me for it, and he will disown me, but even setting my own personal interests aside, it is within the interests of House Idris to have a connection with house Patrick, for the sake of the future," Verdant said.

The priest glanced at Blackthorn, who had been eyeing him, her quiet features marred by eyes wide with surprise, as she listened to all that he said. She turned away when his gaze fell on her.

"You've only known me a day, Verdant," Oliver said, seriously. This was the crux of the matter for him. Verdant's support had been useful since their meeting just the day before, but he found it impossible to understand just why the priest was so interested in him. "How can you be so sure of what you say?"

"I am more sure of the future than I am of the present, Young Wolf," Verdant said cryptically. "I'd heard whisperings of you, before I met you. I do not share the blindness of my people. Their blindness proves to be my advantage. I will take what they do not see. Allow me to serve you, Young Wolf, as you offered, and I swear to make it worthwhile for you."

Suddenly it had turned back around on Oliver, with the priest himself asking for retainership, and now Oliver found himself unable to accept as easily as he had posed the question.

"I don't have a house, as you've said…" Oliver pointed out.

"Then I will assist you in rebuilding it," Verdant said.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"But why are you so sure of this..?" Oliver pressed.

Verdant nodded to Lady Blackthorn next to him. "There sits beside you one of the foremost young ladies in the entire Academy. I do not know why you are acquainted with her, when all else here eye you as an enemy, but I do not need to. Competence attracts opportunity like gravity."

Oliver's eyes lit up. Sometimes, the perfect words served to connect just the right dots. It had happened many times with Dominus as he spoke. His master had had that innate wisdom to him, that came with experience, where the truths he spoke came across as universal truths, and were applicable even to problems that Dominus himself had never imagined.

Verdant's words about competence came across as a similar sort of truth for Oliver then, even if the priest could never know it.

They rung frightfully true. It was strength that had won him this position. Strength that had carried him through the miseries of slavery. Strength that finally awarded him an opportunity to escape a mundane life of labour, and then it was strength again that allowed him to stay with Dominus, and have him train him.

As Oliver grew stronger, as he learned more, the opportunities available to him had multiplied. The world itself had seemed to grow larger.

A village that had been closed to him and hostile suddenly seemed much more friendly. There were people that he could talk to, and ask favours of, and bargain with. Nila, her family, Greeves, Lombard, Judas, Loriel, Tolsey, Lord Blackwell… The list of people that had suddenly sprung up within his life, as a result of recognizing his strength, it was almost unbelievable.

It was closer to magic than even what Francis had wielded.

It was a statement that did much to describe the events of Oliver's life. He nodded sagely at it.

Whether or not Blackthorn was bothered to be used as an example of Verdant's theory, she didn't manage to summon up the words to describe her distaste, though it was written on her face. Either way, she couldn't exactly dispute it. She, just like the rest of them, detested Oliver – or so he assumed – and yet because of his skill with the blade, she'd swallowed her pride and eyed opportunity instead.

"I don't really have the money to pay you a wage either," Oliver said, suddenly remembering the other aspect of retainership. Now he was beginning to find all the holes in his off-handed question.

Verdant smiled at that, thinking it amusing. "That is not a common part of a noble retainership, Young Wolf," he said. "It is more a sign of understanding giving to those from Serving Class backgrounds – the recognition that they need financial support if they are to serve their lieges as well as they would wish to, you need not worry about that with me.

Indeed, you need not worry about providing me with anything. A retainership isn't meant to be sworn out of personal gain, regardless. It is meant to be done as an expression of loyalty. If you would allow me the opportunity, Ser Patrick, I would serve you beyond the best of my abilities."