A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 727: Ideas of Gold - Part 1

This wasn’t a younger Dominus either way. It was Dominus as Oliver remembered him, with a straw hat on his head, sandals on his feet, and a loose barely passable robe about his waist. It was amazing to think that this nondescript old man was the greatest swordsman that had ever set foot in the Stormfront.

His curved blade was there too, unsheathed in his hand. That made for a frightening image. The Dominus that stood there was clearly a Dominus that was in the midst of battle. Even as a stone statue, it almost exuded power, staring down at the world through lifeless stone eyes.

"…It’s brilliant," Oliver said at last. If they’d gotten it wrong, he didn’t know what he would have done. It shouldn’t have been something to get hung up over, but he would have done nonetheless. Find your next read at novelbuddy

It would have been sacrilege to give him anything less than perfection in his death, for that was the image that both Dominus Patrick and Oliver had chased – that ideal of perfection – and it had broken them both, in one way or another.

Underneath the statue, on the block of stone on which Dominus stood, there was his name carved in perfectly straight letters, as bold as the man’s sword itself. Underneath it, they had written his title, as the Stormfront villagers knew it. "THE GREATEST SWORDSMAN IN STORMFRONT HISTORY."

"It’s daring," Greeves said. "Now we know even more so why. You’ve insulted two entities having it built. One, the Church of Claudia, by having it bigger than her, towering over her… and two, that bloody High King who’s got a rod up his arse about him."

"Maybe that’s another reason why Ferdinand was so quick to get rid of this village as well… He didn’t want to be involved in anything that could possibly implicate him against the High King," Nila mused.

"And yet they had it built," Oliver said. "Who commissioned it?" Whilst he heard that it was happening in one of the letters that he’d received, he’d never been given enough details to get involved himself. Right, he should have funded it, he thought.

"Lombard – and Lord Blackwell. Both of them. They’re going to have it covered in enamel and painted. They’re planning on putting a real blade there – that bit of stone is just a placeholder at the moment," Greeves informed him.

"I’m not sure if he would have wanted them to go that far…" Oliver said. Then he smiled. "Then again – damn him. He’s not the one left behind. We’ll give him the best damn statue we can. If there’s anything I can do, be sure to send Lombard and Blackwell my way.

I won’t see this project finished half done. The man deserves as good as this, at least, and better besides."

"It’ll be done, lad, worry not. The villagers won’t let them get away with anything less. They’ve already been tending to it, whilst the stone masons have been away. Have you noticed that there isn’t a lick of snow on it?" Greeves pointed out.

"Now that you mention it…" It was true. Both Claudia’s statue, and Dominus’ had been completely cleared of snow. Even the snow in a good metre radius around their bases had been scraped away, ever so carefully.

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"They’re grateful, you know. Well, of course, you know. But to him as well, I mean. If that offers some sort of comfort. I know dying in a backwater village isn’t exactly a fitting end for a knight…" Greeves said.

"Not for the greatest of all of them, no," Oliver said. "But then again, perhaps that’s why he was the greatest. He wasn’t a Stormfront knight. He rejected all that he didn’t like in the end, and became his own man. From the way he dressed, to the style of swordsmanship that he embraced in order to pass through the Sixth Boundary.

He wasn’t a Stormfront knight, but he’s definitely the best knight that I’ll ever know."

"Aye," Greeves said, for once not having a single quip to say. His face was solemn, and his disposition respectful in the presence of the statue. There was one man that even Greeves had never dared to show a hint of disrespect to. From the very first moment of meeting that mysterious man out on the plains in the middle of the night, he’d known him to be dangerous.

Oliver arrived back in the Academy later that evening, after another long period of travel in the carriage, most of it done in the dark towards the end.

He travelled far more quietly on the way back than he had on the way there. There was so much to think about, after all. They’d made plans, and those were worthy of consideration, but it was more what he hadn’t planned that had left more of an impact on him.

The statue of Dominus was erected by the statue of Claudia. As a symbol, it weighed heavy on his mind. He wondered whether he was reading into it. Whether he’d truly become a ruminating man, like one of those dusty old scholars… But looking at it, he hadn’t just seen Dominus. He’d seen both Dominus and Claudia together. As Greeves had pointed out, Dominus towered over Claudia by a good couple of feet.

What did that mean, Oliver wondered? Was it merely an accident of the artistry? Likely so. But, given how his life had turned out, with the subtlest of impressions causing ripples that greatly affected the course of his future, it made him want to look at it twice. It made him hesitant to dismiss it.

For there it was, for all to see – there was a man, so great, that he towered over the Goddess of Progress herself.

That felt to Oliver to be worth ruminating over. A man should not dwell on his meaning excessively, for fear of it immobilizing him, but Oliver still couldn’t stop himself from considering it, and what that little image meant for his own existence.