A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 621 Skullic's Mission - Part 7

"Likely," the man said, returning the look with a menacing smile of his own. "If I were strong, I wouldn't want to be getting looked down on by the likes of Serving Class dogs, would you? It would be like me getting dismissed by peasants. Unthinkable."

"Dismissed by peasants?" Oliver repeated, his smile widening dangerously. "Now that would be unthinkable." The golden flecks of his eyes were painting a savage picture. Northman was watching those eyes carefully, holding Oliver's gaze just for a few fractions of a section.

His smile broke, this time fading into something more genuine. He chuckled.

"Aye, you ain't so bad, Ser," Northman decided. "Being a noble, you're entitled to take command here. I suppose that's what the boys are in a tizzy about. We've got something of a rhythm built up, you see."

Oliver too relaxed, ever so slightly. "You need not worry, Commander. I am not here to take over. I am the outsider here. I will follow your customs. Nothing will change.

Though, Skullic did promise me command of ten men, to do with what I wished."

"They heard that," Northman said, "and they're not keen on it. Neither am I, speaking truthfully. This hundred has been together solidly for more than a couple of years now. We do fine enough under our own leadership."

"You have sergeants commanding men of that number, do you not?" Oliver said.

"Well, aye. But that's a branching command. You, Ser, would exist outside the command chain. You'd be making those men your own. That's dangerous, that is. I wouldn't mind if you turned that privilege away.

"He was better, wasn't he? More respectful, I mean," Petyr said. "Though, I think even he should have been a little more polite, Ser... They're a strange group, these men."

There were few better ways to describe him. They were indeed a strange lot, as one would expect from having a man like Skullic as their General. They seemed neat and tidy, but as a group of people, their ideals seemed so separate from those of the Academy folk that it was almost startling.

As the last of the tents began to go down, men were gradually sent Oliver's way. It was a steady trickle of them, like a puncture in a waterskin, and all of them seemed particularly reluctant as they stood to attention before him, their spears leaning against their shoulders and their swords at their hips.

They didn't introduce themselves. They simply remained at quiet attention, as soldiers ought to. Oliver didn't fault them for that. Nor could he find any particular faults in the rest of them. They seemed physically capable enough. It didn't seem as though Northman had sent him lesser men out of spite.

They weren't all small, nor were they all too old or too young. They were a healthy mixed force.

It wasn't as though Oliver knew exactly what to do with them either. There was still some time to get a Commander's speech in before the rest of the soldiers finished their duties, but Oliver hadn't been in that position before. He couldn't find the words for them, none apart from a simple introduction.

"I am Oliver Patrick. You will be working under my command today and for the duration of this mission," he told them.

They saluted at that, crisply, but somehow they managed to make that gesture unenthusiastic. They didn't move slowly or anything of the like. There didn't seem to be clear spite in their movements, but there was still a lingering dissatisfaction there. They would much rather have been fighting under their usual Commander than put with some noblemen that they'd never even seen before.

Finally, their old sergeant came over, completing their number of ten.