A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Lasha smiled a small smile. "He didn't seem angry, really… Excited, more like. He's made me promise to come first in the duelling tournament in the Games as a result. He said if I can't do that, after everything, then he really will punish me."

"That sounds like a challenge," Oliver mused. "Is that out of everyone? There's a few strong people here at the Academy…"

More than a few smiles were to be had at Oliver's ignorance, but by this point, it was expected. An endearing weakness in a Lord that otherwise seemed to know no flaws. A talent that seemed all but impossible. It made him seem just that little bit more human.

"I believe the Lady meant just the Third Year girls, my Lord," Verdant explained. "That is typically how the tournaments in the Games go. Though there is indeed a second round that pits the final three from each year group against each other in a second tournament."

Lasha nodded in agreement. "I have confidence in winning the first tournament – which is what my father seems to expect of me… But I wonder if I dare to aim for the second…?" She glanced shyly at Oliver as he took his first bite of food next to her.

He smiled at that question. "The Games are still a few months away, aren't they? By the time that rolls around, I would think Lady Lasha Blackthorn would be quite the monster. You're already pretty competent, though I don't know how good the rest of the competition is…"

"That's not at all what a woman wants to hear," Amelia said quietly as she dug into her own food.

"No?" Oliver said, surprised. "Well, I suppose the ordinary woman, perhaps not, but one that wishes to be a demon with a sword, perhaps..?"

"As long as I don't look like a monster," Lasha said lightly.

"Heavens no," Oliver quickly agreed, as he worked through more of his food. It was growing increasingly difficult to show any sort of restraint. He had a hunch that the same cooks that he usually spoke to had prepared this dish, especially for him.

The salt was just too perfectly attuned for his pallet – and to think that Oliver would ever have enjoyed such an abundance of food that he could claim to have any sort of preference at all.

They drifted in and out of lighter conversation as they enjoyed their food together. Jorah managed to get the fire going and he soon returned to his place atop the storage chest, just opposite Amelia and Pauline, who were similarly cleaning off their plates.

The retainers seemed to be unable to get used to the fact that they were in a noble's bedroom. Or at least, the boys couldn't. Lasha's retainers seemed more stupefied by the lack of decoration.

"You've been here for how long now?" Amelia asked. "Couldn't you have made it a bit more… homely? There's hardly anything in here."

"There's enough," Oliver said. "Enough that I need, anyway. What more is there to add."

"Decorations?" Amelia suggested. "Some paintings, perhaps. Our Lady has many fine pieces in her chambers… though her rooms are far bigger than this."

"Stonewall is sort of… depressing," Pauline chimed in. "It makes the room feel colder."

"I don't know," Karesh said. "It seems pretty nice to me. At least he doesn't have to share a room."

"What are your rooms like?" Oliver asked, curious.

"Mm. They're not that different from this, they're just four bunks in it, my Lord, and we don't have a personal fireplace in the room – they do a big few down the hallways instead," Karesh told him. Oliver noted that the boy had grown more careful with the way he'd addressed Oliver as of late, though that same care didn't seem to extend to any of the other nobles that he was addressing.

"I see…" Oliver mused, trying to imagine it. To him, it didn't sound that bad. Though, he supposed, after living the way that he had for so long, sharing a room with other people might have grown tiresome.

"These are the smallest of all noble suites," Verdant pointed out. "A last-minute arrangement, I am sure. Given time, I do not doubt we can have our Lord moved to something finer, especially given the coin that he has started to bring in with the Hobgoblin hunting."

"Is Nebular still keeping our dealings going?" Oliver asked.

"He is," Verdant assured him. "He was even willing to stand witness at the trial, but the Minister of Logic did not have a use for him."

The mention of the trial brought with it a strained silence. The lot of them had endless questions that they wanted to ask, but even though it had happened mere hours before, they seemed to be carefully avoiding the topic. It just didn't seem real, the fact that Oliver had been so close to execution. Indeed, the fact that there had been an attempt on Oliver's life after all.

"The Minister of Logic…" Oliver mused. "Just who is he?"

"A brilliant man," Verdant said, and from the sound of it, he meant every word. "He began his career as the most minor of nobility, and yet now he stands as one of the Ministers. He's a bit of a contradiction.
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Even now that he is in a seat of power, he continues only to hold the smallest amount of lands necessary to maintain his posts, and shows no interest in building his family businesses or affairs."

"They did seem rather caught off guard by his sudden ferocity," Oliver noted, remembering Lazarus and Jolamire being slow to respond to Hod at first.

"Indeed," Verdant agreed. "A sleeping giant if there is ever one. They must have known that Hod was capable, for he has presented himself as such in the past… but in matters that have no interest to him, it seems that he quite publically makes it certain that people know he isn't interested."