A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 620 Skullic's Mission - Part 6

As they'd passed through the various hamlets on the way here, not a single villager had reacted upon catching sight of his face. It was as one would expect things to be. Outside of the noble circle, outside of the immediate vicinity of the Academy, few knew who Oliver Patrick was. That too seemed to be true for the soldiery.

They'd likely heard a tale or two in passing, but they had nothing to corroborate those tales, not like the nobility did.

So, he was being treated as though his presence was more an inconvenience than an asset. Again, he didn't need to be some wisened general to get a sense for that. It wasn't distaste that he was met with from these soldiers, it was just general irritation.

They were Serving-Class men empowered to act independently by their General and now they had a noble come walking in again, about to disturb whatever rhythms they'd already set up.

Oliver sighed. Piercing any new social circle seemed to be the most difficult of endeavours.@@@@

"They've left you waiting, Ser?" Petyr asked from beside him. Oliver had heard him leap down from the carriage and tend to the horses. He didn't turn his head as he approached.

"They have," Oliver said, twisting his mouth. Petyr saw the look of dissatisfaction and stepped backwards a step.

"That seems impolite, Ser," Petyr said carefully.

"It does," Oliver agreed, offering no more than that.

Petyr continued to study his face with glances from the side, trying to find the right words. "I could find the Commander, if you like, Ser... It's only right that they give a proper greeting to a noble."

There was a divide building up in his heart again, one that he hadn't quite cured previously.

It didn't like the circumstances. It couldn't quite come to terms with their progress. Both things were buildings of considerable size in the palace of their mind and both things were lacking the foundation to support them. He'd survived that first bout, thanks to the intervention of Asabel, but who was to say when the next would occur?

Along with his political position, it was his health that was failing him, and this anger only fed that budding injury.

The talk of the fragments faded into the back of his mind as he ignored the pain in his chest. He wasn't aware of how long had passed, but when he next looked in front of him, there was a man standing there, alongside Petyr. He'd asked Oliver a question and was looking at him expectantly in reply.

A black bearded man, with piercing blue eyes. Oliver might have mistaken him for a Yarmdon if he'd been any taller. He checked his sword belt on instinct, just in case. Indeed, there was a sword there, rather than an axe.

"Have you need of armour, Ser?" The man repeated.

This time Oliver heard him. "I do not. Your General has warned me that I ought to bring some in future."

"Aye, I would consider that wise advice," the Commander agreed. "He's told me to expect use out of you."

"Your men don't seem to," Oliver said, a little too pointedly.

"Does that bother you, Ser?" The Commander asked, his voice dropped an octave. He asked it respectfully, but his eyes were searching. It was more a challenge than a question.

"Should it?" Oliver replied, showing his teeth. It wasn't quite a smile, but his lips were parted. It was more like a dog growling, in truth.