A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 2090: The King’s First Foray - Part 1

"Right," she said. "What would you have me do, Tempest? I’m not going to be sat around doing nothing while you’re away at war. I’m not some soldier’s wife."

"Wellllll," Oliver said. "There’s the issue of seeing this kingdom, and all its villages, united towards a common cause. We need food, and we need support. I was hoping that a Lady as pretty and as adept at leadership as yourself could help me in that regard. I know that if I was a peasant boy, I’d definitely fall head over heels for the likes of you."

"You already have, idiot," Nila said. "I’ll ignore how condescendingly you phrased it. In other words, you want me to get the peasantry on your side – on King Patrick’s side?"

"Indeed," Oliver said. "Verdant will handle the nobility. Lord Idris, his father, shall help us with long-term governance, and Greeves shall handle trade. But it is the peasantry, Nila – the general populace, the very country itself, if you look at the number of people in our new Kingdom – that I need you to win over. It’s a massive undertaking."

"Yes, yes," Nila said. "You’ll be departing soon, won’t you? I’ll head off with you."

"If you would wait until tomorrow, I’d have you take the Minister of Blades with you, and the men he brings. You’ll need a sizable bodyguard, though I’ll let you judge for yourself how many you take, as long as you take at least a hundred."

"Well, you already know how much I’m taking then," Nila said.

"One last request," Oliver said. "I know we’re not married yet, but you’re still the person closest to me. The peasantry must recognise that, even in knowing you’re not yet Queen. I’ll have one of the smiths forge a silver circlet for you."

Nila pulled a face. "I refuse."

"It would be significant, Nila," Oliver said.

"You were thinking about trying to get me to wear that, weren’t you?" She said, pointing to the Emerson crown Oliver was holding. "The crown of a King whose head you cut off. Idiot."

"I still haven’t decided what to do with it," Oliver admitted. "But if you chose the design of it, surely you could find a circlet that suited you, and you wouldn’t feel strange wearing?"

"I absolutely refuse," Nila said.

"It would be useful, though..." Oliver said.

"...I’d wear one made out of iron," Nila said. "I’m not a noble. I don’t want to wear silver and gold."

"You’re an idiot," Oliver said.

"You’re an idiot," Nila said back, even more harshly.

"What if it was just silver, and no decoration?" Oliver asked.

"You’d want me to wear something like that all the time? I’d stick out like a sore thumb if I was hunting," Nila said.

"You don’t have to wear it all the time, only when you’re doing something formal."

"I hate this," Nila said.

"I’ll make it up to you."

"How?" Nila said.

"I’ll find a way."

"Hm... That’s a dangerous situation to put yourself in. You know I might never be satisfied?"

"True... But I’ll do it regardless. The nobles who are beneath you will better know their place too. I will not have others looking down on you," Oliver said.

Seeing beneath his arguments, Nila began to see that he was using it in large part as an excuse to be protective. Still, she was unwilling to let him get off so easily. "I’ll choose my own circlet then... And you’ll make it up to me. But know that I’m still very unhappy."

"Yes, yes," Oliver said, patting her head. "I’m very cruel. I thank you ever so much for your understanding."

Chapter 20 – The King’s First Foray

A frown, as heavy as a boulder. A slashing sword strike through the air, parting it with a great whoosh of movement. Eyes sparkling with concentration. Flawless, as perfect as one could imagine a sword slash being. It did not even disturb the silver crown that sat so lopsided upon his head. And yet, the strength of his dissatisfaction was evident.

"Blackthorn," Oliver said.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Lady Blackthorn said. She was one of the few people in their temporary encampment that did not betray the slightest hint of exhaustion. The rest of their men were either sitting on one of the many small boulders strewn around, or sat in the long grass, avoiding the last few patches of melting snow. King Patrick had pushed them hard – he’d had them ride throughout the night.

Their very first mission under him, their very first mobilization, and already, the excitement that a few of them had felt in being selected to ride alongside him as part of his elite fighting force was beginning to wane.

An hour was all they had to rest, but the large majority of them were fighting the urge to simply fall asleep. An hour, and they’d be leaving the small patch of forest near the Wyndon border that kept them hidden. Then, they’d be rushing out, swords drawn, straight into danger, looking to conquer. They could not have been less ready for it.

As the soldiers lay there exhausted, their King and Commander wielded his sword with a relentlessness, practising the same slashing strike over and over, and seeming to be eternally dissatisfied with it.

"Can you see what this is lacking?" Oliver said, trying the same strike again. Powerful it was, slicing straight through the air once more. Perfect, efficient, any that dared to stand in its way would have been cleaved in two, regardless of whether they were wearing armour or not.

Gar watched from nearby, waiting like a robber, barely hiding out of sight, and not at all managing to restrain his excited smile. He seemed to suppose that the King would call upon him soon enough.

Lady Blackthorn frowned. Oliver slashed again for her benefit. "Lacking?" She said eventually. "I can’t see. I can only tell you that it’s powerful."

"Powerful..." Oliver repeated. "Powerful isn’t enough. I can plant my feet, twist my hips, use every muscle in my back and shoulders, and true enough, I could put a good amount of strength in my strike – but that does not make it a perfect slash."

"What is it you are aiming for, Your Majesty?" Lady Blackthorn said.