A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

His eyes were searching, squinting, as though evaluating every ounce of Oliver's being through them. Oliver calmly met his gaze. The man did not radiate an aura like Lombard, or like Blackwell – but there was something about him that still screamed danger, like the glare of a serpent.

"Is that what they whisper?" Oliver said carefully. "Then perhaps there is more truth to rumours than there were in the past. But only a fool would believe such stories, wouldn't they? Or so Lombard tells me. A boy of an age to mine, breaking through to the Second Boundary, and having his chance on the battlefield where others had not had theirs – that would cause quite a stir."

"It would," the professor agreed slowly, as he broke out into a smile. "It would appear I've been granted a rather interesting student so soon into the mid-year. I warn you though, young master Patrick, I exaggerate not, the waters here swim against you. For your late arrival, halfway through the year, and halfway through the school, you would already have much trouble.

But there are rumours that will set enemies against you. All loyal to the King share his distaste for Dominus, and by extension, his heir. Even a professor with a particularly interesting student would be unlikely to move against such a force. I expect that is why Blackwell gave you that pin, to offset some of that aggression."

"Then I suppose I'd better tread carefully," Oliver said. He could feel the tension, but he did not yet feel the fear that should have come with such a threat. How many students resided in the school? How many possible enemies could he have?

"You should," the Professor agreed. "But for now, I merely return to being Professor Volguard. I cease to offer advice, as one with a tinge of admiration for a boy's deceased father, and resume my duty as a member of the faculty.

Since your full enrollment seems to have been interrupted part-way through, I ask, what other studies would the young Master Patrick be interested in pursuing – aside from Advanced Strategy, of course."

That 'of course' came paired with a rather oppressive smile, practically forcing Oliver to continue with his classes there, even if he had not decided on such a thing already.

…

…

By the time he had finished with Professor Volguard, it was already full dark, and the stone corridors were lit fully with torches, running down along their cold depths.

The professor had left him at the doors to the grand dining hall, after signing him up to his other classes, and giving him an attendance schedule that he would need to follow for it. He'd glanced at the schedule, and found it surprisingly lenient, with a handful of free periods scattered throughout the week, with which he could do whatever he wished.

Glancing at the timetable and those free periods, he was once again reminded of just how different – and possibly easy – the noble world was compared to the peasant world that he was so used to. He was used to his days being filled with labour, from slavery, to digging holes, and then the relentless training that Dominus had put him through. He'd never been given such an amount of free time before.

With the periods from eight until six being devoted entirely to schooling – with those free periods scattered at times throughout the day – and then the time outside of that being entirely his own, he couldn't help but feel as though his life had suddenly become easier.

In the middle of Volguard's enrolling, a rather flustered woman had come to find them, in such a hurry that her glasses almost fell from her nose. Oliver recognized her as being the woman that had dropped him off at his room earlier. Apparently, she'd told him to remain where he was, and she'd come to fetch him later.

She'd been in a bit of a panic, after immediately losing a pupil whom had such strong connections to a Lord.

Luckily, Volguard had been there to calm her down, and assure her that everything was being tended to, but that did not do much to stop the look of frustrated irritation that she'd shot Oliver on her way out. He couldn't help but think that he'd made yet another enemy there.

And now here he was, in that grand dining hall. If the lecture room was like a church, then this room would have been a cathedral. It had high vaulted ceilings, and a carefully tiled floor, with the occasional mosaic of a fearsome predator scattered evenly across it.

There was enough space for a thousand people to sit in there, at least. The sheer size of it was enough to justify the changing of buildings – Oliver had been led from the doors of the castle that he'd initially entered, into the bowels of another, larger castle, that he'd soon learned contained the food quarters for the whole encampment.

That vast space was filled with equally vast benches, giant things of solid varnished wood. There must have been fifty of them in total – and in a hall that large, such an amount really was not many – and yet due to the size of the tables and the benches that matched them, the room was comfortably filled.

Oliver glanced up at the lit chandeliers that hung up high above, hung on chains, and filled with hundreds of candles. He'd wondered how they managed to get them up there, until he saw the wheel that the chains coiled around. He assumed they must have to turn the wheel every time they wanted to lower it, and light the candles. Experience more content on empire

The room had as many windows as the rest of the buildings within the castles, only these were considerably larger, stained with glass at places, taking much of the larger walls, some of them depicting scenes of ancient battles, and others merely displaying patterns.

So distracted was Oliver by all the marvels of the room, that he'd already begun walking past the food stands, before a cook called out to catch his attention.

"Ser! Are you not eating?" A cook in spotlessly clean white overalls called out to him, his large hat a floppy messy on his head, making it look like a second set of hair.