A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"…I suppose it was in large part due to my reaction as far as their strategy went," Oliver said. "But it is not as if I played the part of the perfect leader before then."

"The two of them… thus far… Their actions have made sense to me, their thoughts that you have spoken, I find myself agreeing to. However this… I cannot help but shake my head in disagreement," Skullic said. "You're no more lacking as a Colonel than some of these other men that have risen to the rank, and you've spent years doing a Captain's work.

Karstly trusted you enough to lead a thousand men into battle against a mighty General. Seems odd that he would refuse you it in lesser circumstances. I think it would be good experience for you. Perhaps you would learn more of strategy in doing it. You wouldn't have the time to go in by yourself nearly as often – you'd need to keep track of your entire army."

"Are you saying to ignore what they said?" Oliver asked.

"Not at all. They will have had their reasons. But I do not know what they are. I, at least, think myself to know you better than they do…" Skullic said. "Perhaps they thought you were different to what you were. Perhaps they supposed that, a boy of your age, reaching the heights you have, would be far more polished.

Maybe they saw how raw you are, and they couldn't rationalize putting you in charge of more men."

"Are you done playing your game?" Mary asked. "Tea has been made, but there is nowhere to put it."

Oliver had wondered where Mary had disappeared to – but now she had returned, bearing a tray full of teacups, and some hard biscuits to go along with it.

"Don't tell me you made that yourself," Skullic said.

"Why should I not have?" Mary asked.

"There are servants here," Skullic said. "You're a noble now, wife of mine, you needn't lower yourself to such tasks."

"Nonsense. Why would I waste someone else's time with this, if I am only going to be standing around? I am quite capable of doing it myself. Unless you've begun to dislike how I make my tea?" Mary said. It sounded threatening when she put it like that, and Skullic was quick to correct her.

"Not all," he said.

"Then quiet, and move your hands, so I can put this down," Mary said. "Do you still prefer your tea as sweet as you used to?" She asked of Oliver.

Oliver nodded. His favour of sweet teas had spread further than just Asabel's rooms over the years. It was a subject that many seemed to take with a deal of amusement.

"What were you saying, Skullic?" Oliver said, prodding him on. He had to admit that of everyone he had spoken to thus far of the campaign, it was only Skullic that had been able to offer him any measure of insight.

"Hm..?" Skullic said. "Are you fishing for praise? You know quite well what I was saying."

"…But it still doesn't make sense," Oliver protested.

"Why would it not?" Skullic asked. "They supposed you to be closer to a completed weapon than you are, and they came away realizing just how raw you still were. You demonstrated that entirely, from what you have told me. A raw Sword, capable of striking down Generals. If they had known you better, that would have excited them.

But I suppose, with more things on their minds, they just see in you a list of problems that need to be fixed."

"There surely isn't that long of a list…" Oliver said.

"No, that list is certainly sounding long," Skullic replied. "Insurbordinance, multiple acts of it, from what your men have told me, and from what whispers have been shared."

"Verdant…" Oliver grumbled.

"Your retainer is only looking out for you," Skullic said. "He knows just as well as you do that you can hardly continue to upset the apple cart. Raw seems to be the right word for it. You simply need hammering into shape. The process of refinement should be an exciting thing indeed."

"Well, I'm glad that you've found a suitable lump of steel to play with," Oliver said. "But I can't see what it is that I can change. We have already acknowledged that me improving my strategy is not so simple as it sounds. Just trying to do it isn't enough."

"Now you feel the plights of ordinary men," Skullic said. "The ordinary man would struggle far more mightily to pass simply through to the Second Boundary. Be thankful that you're able to run into a problem like this only after having gathered a good deal of strength already. I would hear no further complaining."

"I'm not complaining… but it would be nice if it were easier," Oliver said.

"That is indeed complaining," Skullic said.

"I am out of ideas," Oliver said.

"I can tell that very much, with you getting involved in governing affairs, and picking battles where you needn't have bothered," Skullic said. "I can see the mess that you're stirring up in search of change. From the looks of it, you're trying to distance yourself from the battlefield, but it doesn't seem as if you know what to do without it. I don't think that's the correct solution.

If anything, you need to fight more. But likely not under the pressures of campaign. Your usual missions, that you did under the High King, would be the sort of thing that could be called preferable, for I imagine you do not wish to be leaving your village for any extended length of time."

"True enough. I would like to see Solgrim stronger, before I dare to leave it again," Oliver said.

"What can be put together?" Skullic said, drifting off into thought, as his fingers curled around the cup hat he was holding. The sunlight played tricks on Oliver's eyes, as it fell through the window, and draped Skullic in its yellow hue. It made the man somewhat painful to look at, given the brightness, but so too did it feel wrong to look away from him, as if he was somehow intimidated.