A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Oliver had no idea what the Three Trails were, but from the grim looks on the rest of the Minister's faces, and the malicious smile that had begun to rise from Jolamire, he could guess that they were not particularly pleasant affairs.

"Might I note, General… Not as a means of disputing the punishment that you've handed out after the fact, but as an acknowledgement of circumstance, I do believe the boy to still be wounded from his recent battle with the Yarmdon," Hod suggested tentatively. It seemed that once Tevar had spoken his orders, even he would not risk directly opposing them.

That seemed to surprise the General. "Is that true, Patrick?"

"Minor injuries, General, they're still having trouble closing," Oliver said. "Though, I'm surprised that the Minister of Logic knew of it."

Hod laughed at that. "All in attendance noted that you were covered in blood, Young Patrick, despite not having taken a wound. One would hope that such knowledge would be proffered by the Minister of Information, but even I might notice obvious things like this."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"I would first dispute the veracity of the claims of having done battle with the Yarmdon—" Lazarus began in a bumbling sort of way, but Tevar immediately dismissed it.

"Yes, yes, we've already been through something similar. If we dispute every point, it'll be full dark outside before we get anywhere with this. Out of recognition for young Patrick's wounds, I'll have it seen to that the Trials avoid the wounded areas, so that they might heal. Are you satisfied with this conclusion, Oliver Patrick?" General Tevar asked.

Oliver dipped his head. "I am, General Tevar, and I thank you for your licence when deciding my punishment."

The General grunted at that. "You wouldn't be calling me lenient if you knew what the punishment was. Most students would rather face the pain of expulsion."

"Physical pain, is it, General?" Oliver asked. "As long as I may keep my limbs, then you will find no complaints with me."

Tevar went silent for a moment at that, studying Oliver, as he bowed his head. "Similarities between you and your father… I see them, but I also see the differences as well. Tell me, before I dismiss you, what is it you seek here?"

"Strength, General," Oliver replied without hesitation. "I came here looking for ways to improve my sword, though it would seem my actions have deprived me of that opportunity. Barring the sword, I wished to know what it meant to lead. What it takes to create a Great General."

"…You can go," Tevar said at last. Oliver wasn't sure whether or not his reply displeased him, but regardless, he nodded his head once more, glancing at Hod, before turning on his heel and marching from the halls.

…

…

Four hours later, and it was already dark. Such was the way with winter days. Oliver stood on the steps of the doorway between the Red Castle and the courtyard, explaining the proceedings to Verdant, as the two of them watched a thick stream of snowflakes fall slowly from the sky.

Nearly all the students that passed could hardly help themselves from sparing him a glance. It was hard to tell whether it was Oliver they were looking at, or the youthful priest, and his shining bald shaved head.

The priest sighed, not for the first time in their conversation. "To have two of the Ministers so openly against you… It is not a favourable position to be in. One would hope, more than anything, for their name to never reach as far as a Minister's ears. You've already broken that taboo."

"Well, at least I managed to avoid getting expelled – and Heathclaw actually got punished too, which is almost amusing," Oliver said. "Almost enough for me to say that it was worth it."

"You wouldn't say that, if you knew what the Three Trials had in store for you," Verdant said gravely. Then he paused to consider it a moment. "Or rather, you might – but no one else would."

"Ah, I was about to say that that was exactly what the Ministers said – but with that last part you've managed to make yourself original, congratulations, priest," Oliver said.

"Your mood has certainly lightened," Verdant noted. "And I would rather you not call me priest. Verdant is a name that I happen to like."

"Well, to a degree, I suppose it has. I didn't expect to be so bothered by the prospect of expulsion, but I suppose I do feel guilty about letting Blackwell's reputation get stained, after the man went out of his way to be good to me," Oliver said. He glanced behind him, feeling the gaze of another pair of students. These were yellow shirts this time. He sighed as he realized that.

"Even the Serving Class have learned to stare."

"I would imagine that's more to do with the announcement of your Trials than anything else. I warn you, given the rarity of their use, you're likely to attract a crowd," Verdant said.

"A crowd? In this weather? These soft nobles? I'm sure they'll freeze and get bored part way through," Oliver said.

"You're likely to freeze before them, I'm afraid," Verdant said, ominously. "What a time for the snow to pick up. They'll have to break the ice across the pond for the Third Trial."

Oliver did deen to ask Verdant what he meant by that. He thought that. He knew that he would find out soon himself regardless, and thought it better not to dwell on that fact. Within the hour, the Trials of Punishment were set to begin, after all.

…

…

An hour later, outside the Central Castle. Mealtime was nearing its end. Verdant had advised Oliver that he eat something light, but not too heavy. Reframing from asking why, Oliver had done just that, and now he found himself on a square of garden, a short distance away from the warm glow of the welcoming Central Castle doorway.