A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 450 The Gravity of Competence - Part 1

"You've already served me well," Oliver said awkwardly, and he meant it. "If you're sure you're fine with doing it, then I definitely won't be turning you down. I'm not that nice a person. I really can't see what's in it for you. But your assistance would be greatly appreciated, Verdant."

"That's it?" Amelia hissed. She was suddenly standing behind them. Maids were cleaning up the plates that she'd shattered, and she'd dismissed herself as though it was nothing to do with her, inserting herself into Oliver's conversation instead. "That's not how you're meant to swear retainership... it's meant to be much more, y'know, ceremonial..."

"Do not worry yourself, child. I will swear my oath to my liege before the shrine of Bohethomia. The God of the Oceans will recognize my promise, and hold me to it," Verdant said, seriously.

"But that isn't..." Amelia wanted to protest more, but she cowered beneath Verdant's gaze.

"So... odd," Blackthorn said, eyeing the two of them. She'd just barely finished her cake as well. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and sighed, looking as exhausted as Oliver had felt before the meal began. Now, strangely, like an energy vampire, he was beginning to feel almost fine.

The grounds were cold from the freshly laid snow. It was beginning to lay more thickly now. When they stepped through it, there was now an audible crunch, as they sank down into the soft snow, and it compacted before the ground.

After their rather eventful meal, Oliver had made good on his promise with Lady Blackthorn. He'd explained to Verdant what the situation was. He felt more comfortable doing that now, since the man had promised to be his retainer – though he had not officially sworn it yet – and he was more aware of the relationship between them.

Verdant had said he would collect the training sword for that purpose, whilst Pauline finished her meal – the girl had been slower than the rest of them, and now they were gathered outside, looking for a spot in which to practise, as they waited for Verdant to return.

"Where do you want to go?" Oliver asked lazily. Verdant had suggested that they head to the area where his shop was, saying that it typically remained quiet, especially during lunchtime. They'd been heading there by default, as though it was already predecided, but he asked the question of Blackthorn anyway, just to see if he could prod her into talking.

Oliver noticed that Amelia had paled somewhat as a result of the conversation. He shrugged, and had to turn away to hide his smile, lest he break into a laugh. "You're lucky I'm such a good guy, then," he said, knowing immediately that she'd bite into it. The girl did not disappoint.

"You are not!" Amelia said angrily. "We had to fight you just to get you to be kind to our Lady! Our Lady whose house is so above your own, and yet you still couldn't treat her politely."

"Fight?" Oliver repeated. "You didn't have to fight me," he said, "you just had to annoy me. You're pretty good at that, aren't you Amelia?"

"...What are you even saying!? I'm not annoying! I'm just pointing out where you're wrong," she shouted back furiously. Oliver had to keep his head pointed away so that she couldn't see his smile. It was growing to be rather fun to tease her.

"Is that it?" Blackthorn interrupted, pointing to a path that led off the beaten track, into a copse of trees where Verdant's cabin inevitably lay. They'd already passed a dozen or so nobles and Serving Class students alike, all of which had given them odd looks at the pairing. He imagined that Blackthorn and her entourage would be rather pleased to get out of sight.

But this was the arrangement that they'd struck up. They wanted to forecast the fact that Patrick had connections to Blackthorn. Verdant had been in strong approval.

...

...

By the time they saddled up next to the cabin, Verdant was already waiting, swords in hand. It was a wonder how he'd gotten there so quickly, but Oliver was sure that he'd likely ran, though he could see no trace of sweat on the man's brow, nor was he out of breath.

He was talking with a tall young man outside, as the two of them carried out a table, and a tray of tea to go on top of it.