A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"It is still odd to me that you and the Princess are so close," Amelia noted, as she also sipped her tea.

It was one of many questions that had been on everyone's mind. Likely the same questions were being repeated all around the Academy, as people sought to figure out just when the Patrick boy had established such a firm bond with the well-regarded Pendragon Princess.

"I wouldn't say we're close," Oliver said. "I don't know her well enough to say that. But she seems… worth trusting."

"Indeed, worth trusting is an apt way to put it," Verdant said with an affirming nod.

"Worth trusting…" Amelia repeated to herself, glancing at Lady Blackthorn to gauge her reaction. Lasha was as doll-faced as ever. It was hard to tell just what she was thinking.

"In that same way that the rest of you seem to be," Oliver announced lightly. A few eyebrows were raised at those sudden words.

"Oh, come on," he said. "I know I'm never the sort to really be sentimental. In truth, I don't have a clue how you see me, and I'm still stunned to have had your support at the trial. But for what it's worth – which, as it currently stands, words from a Patrick aren't worth that much – thank you regardless."

"All of us?" Amelia asked teasingly. Oliver surprised her with his stern face and swift reply.

"All of you," he said, holding her gaze firmly enough that she was forced to turn away in a sudden spell of embarrassment. "I know that the retainers could not act in the Ministers hall in the same way that a noble could, but I extend my thanks to all of you regardless."

"We really didn't do anything, though…" Karesh said despondently. Now that he was happy to see Oliver free once more, his own creeping doubts about his lack of action began to swim back in. As the soldiers seized their Lord, where were they? Merely watching, unable to do anything of import.

"You were valuable arms and legs when it came to the planning behind the scenes," Verdant said, "do not overlook small victories. Each man must play his part when the mountains rise up so tall. Some build the ladder, others climb it, and some are left at the bottom to hold it, but their job is no less important."

"Indeed," Oliver said. "I was equally as useless this time around. We have that in common, Karesh. But I will be damned if I end up in a prison cell again." The air about him changed as he made that declaration.

It was stunning how quickly the air in the room went from warm and comfortable to the cold edge of a knife, as golden and purple flecks distorted Oliver's vision and gave him the presence of something otherworldly. "The enemy were unable to claim my head, and therein lies their mistake. From now until the threat is eliminated, I shall not be caught out."

It was the sort of bold declaration that only a youth could make. It likely shouldn't have been spoken with such confidence, not when he was already caught out so recently, but Oliver was unable to help himself. Even as his logical mind constricted him as he spoke those words, his spirit believed them with a firmness and with an iron fist he swore to himself that he would make it a reality.

Those gathered in the room believed it. They'd seen anger in Oliver's eyes before, most of them. Brief flashes of rage when he summoned strength beyond his means to deal with an impossible martial foe. This was a foe of a different sort and it required from him a different strength. That look in his eye and that will to cause carnage, it seemed even more terrifying than what they'd seen before.

Lasha averted her gaze, as she felt her hand sweat and her heart pound. It was a wolf's grin that she saw Oliver wear. How could he pretend to be sad, to be grateful, when that smile on his face was such an excited one? It seemed clear to all that gazed upon him that Oliver Patrick was excited for the challenge.

"The Young Wolf…" Verdant murmured to himself with a smile. "Seems to have caught the scent of a particularly juicy piece of prey."

As a result of the trial, Oliver's life, of course, was once more set to change. As the first semblance of routine had built up in his noble life, the giant hand of fate came once more to swat it back down again, flattening it all to rubble until chaos reigned.

It was as though Ingolsol himself governed fate at times, for how could it be so continually vindictive in its sequencing, even without seeming to have a will of its own?

Oliver had needed to learn quickly how nobles did things, and even then, he hadn't learned nearly fast enough. Now, much of those lessons were for nought, as he was banned from Academy classes entirely.

It was hard to even think of himself as being banned, though, as the Ministers – Tavar, in particular – had ardently worked toward a solution that could not be interpreted as a punishment, for he'd won the trial, after all.

The reformation of his routine certainly rendered him as somewhat of a social outcast. Amelia and Pauline in particular had been sympathetic to that fact, as they discussed it later the night before, whereas Blackthorn only seemed to be jealous of the fact that he got to skip class.

He wasn't quite sure how it would work, since he hadn't been told any more details since the trial. Everyone seemed to be as exhausted by it as Oliver's retainers had been, including the Ministers themselves. They'd been quieter in relaying the administrative details, when normally they would have been crisp, and beyond punctual.

Verdant had needed to go and check with one of Tavar's secretaries early that morning to find out just what Oliver was meant to be doing.