A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Even as his voice trailed off, the strength in his grip did nothing of the sort. Oliver was left pinned in place, with that burly man standing over him, smelling of all the rich spices that nobility wore. It made Oliver want to wrinkle his nose, but he patiently waited – even he knew that Lord Blackwell was not the type of man he should make an enemy of for no reason.

Eventually, the man stirred, and his smile broadened, as he regained himself, patting Oliver on the shoulders with his heavily ringed hand. Each tap was enough to send a tremor through Oliver's body. He feared to think what the same hand might do with an axe, and more motivation.

"Well, you've done me well here, Lombard," Blackwell said, regaining his more lordly tone, as he took a step back from Oliver, but the excitement in his eyes still has not faded. "I feel myself a man who has discovered a dragon egg."

"I am glad he pleases you," Lombard said, with a slight bow of his head. With that bow, the emptiness of his sleeve was made more obvious, causing the Lord to frown.

"That arm… I don't suppose you'll be rejoining the front lines any time soon in that state," he said.

"It was my sword arm," Lombard said bluntly. "It leaves me weaker than he once was."

For some reason, Lombard's reply seemed to hearten him a deal, as he read something in it, beneath the polite phrasing, that Oliver seemed to have missed. "Ah, indeed. You mean to tell me that your head remains intact, do you, Captain? The Shothram will be disheartened to hear that. A promotion, I should think – that seems to be in order. Five hundred men, and the title of Lieutenant.

What say you?"

"You need not bargain with me, my Lord," Lombard said with a wry smile. "There is no other place for me than on the field of battle. Besides – I would not feel comfortable claiming the accolades for a victory that was not my own. This victory belongs to the boy, and if any knight should claim it, it should be Dominus."

Again, Oliver was forced to be confronted by Lord Blackwell's piercing gaze. "Ah, I wonder if you even notice how you carry yourself, Lombard. You treat the boy near as an equal."

"If you bore witness to that battle, you might feel similarly my Lord. That is not a child, however our laws might define him," Lombard said.

"A weapon, then?" Blackwell asked.

"Perhaps. Though I was unable to wield it. The boy did better away from my authority, rather than under it," Lombard replied. Both men were looking Oliver up and down with critical gazes, as though he was a horse to be sold. Silently, he endured their looks, and merely continued to look levelly back at them.

"Come spring, the King has ordered me to hold the East for a handful of seasons. I would have liked to try this weapon of yours," Blackwell said. "…Alas, I suppose I had better wait, lest I invite more ire from the neighbouring Lords than I have already."

Finally, he spoke to Oliver as though he was human again, rather than a particularly interesting armament. Discover exclusive content at empire

"If you had been but a few years older, a hefty promotion would have been due as a result of your recent achievements, young Oliver. At present, I can give you none of those. Many will scorn the fact that a mere boy was given the opportunity to prove himself in battle when others have been denied it. Others would see your villagers hanged, for armin themselves without the Lord's permission."

Suddenly, Oliver's eyes were golden, as a rage rippled through him, and he clenched his fist, his mouth open, ready to speak an angry reply.

But with a raised hand from Lord Blackwell, he held back what he was about to say. "I am not one of those men. I have informed all those who question otherwise, that you and your villagers were armed under my command. As such, I bear the law in your place.

There are mumblings – nasty little things, about the use of a boy in battle, and about your father, Dominus, disappearing for as long as he had, abandoning his duty."

Again, Oliver wanted to interrupt, but again, Blackwell waved him into silence. Lombard was staring at him as well, his gaze even more serious than usual. Even in silence, Oliver could feel the man's will, a distinct and obvious thing: 'shut up, and do what you're told, lest you get us all killed.' Begrudgingly, Oliver obeyed.

"Again, I am not one of those men. I have a great respect for your father. I wouldn't go as far as to call us friends, but at the very least, I think we had an understanding. I'm aware that he had his reasons, just as I am aware of the favour he did me in slaying the mage Francis, and dealing with the Cursed being that arose from him.

Those in the Capital shine doubts upon those reports, just as they shine doubts on the claim that Dominus broke through the Sixth Boundary. I do not share those doubts. I trust my men. I am going to need your trust in that, boy. Do I have it?"

Slowly, Oliver nodded. The man had hardly paused for breath, as he switched his aims yet again, and broke into his more Lordly mode of being, the sight of the excited and affable man who had been present a moment earlier seemed long forgotten.

Something about Oliver's reaction must have dissatisfied him, for the Lord sighed, and looked to Lombard to complain, the heavy gold chain of his position swinging about his neck as he did so.

"Apologies, Lord Blackwell. As I've said, the boy is unfamiliar with the customs of our nobility. Dominus taught him the sword, rather than etiquette," Lombard said, though he did not sound particularly sorry, so much as he did exasperated. "As it happens, for the boy, this is rather good behaviour."

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