A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 916: The Capital - Part 1

"An award, eh?" Oliver mused. "Are there Serving Class men amongst them, then?"

Faced with such a question, Tolsey immediately stammered, as he recognized the falseness in what he'd said. "W-well, I'm sure there would be, if this were any other occasion, but they are to receive awards from the High King himself. That is a privilege only afforded to the nobility. Lord Blackwell will award his Serving Class men himself – and he has, already."

"Hm…" Oliver murmured thoughtfully.

"I would put the same to you, Ser Patrick," Tolsey said, regaining some of his composure by attacking with the initiative. "I would have thought that you would wish to meet with Lord Blackwell before we arrive in the Capital."

"Hm? Why would I need to do that?" Oliver said, instantly dismissing the notion.

Tolsey fumbled. He was having trouble getting any sort of conversation going with Oliver where they actually saw eye to eye. "W-well, I just thought, given that you were going to be serving him and all…"

"I'll have three years to get acquainted with him," Oliver replied. "I don't need to be in such a hurry. Besides, we've already exchanged agreements by letter about what is to occur. Lombard will forwarn him in advance of what is to happen. Am I missing something, Verdant?"

"No, I believe you to be quite right, my Lord," Verdant said. "All that is left is to witness the ceremony, and after which, the future shall unfold, as it always does – but you shall be meeting it with a ship, my Lord, and planning your course atop of it."

"Indeed we will be."

The Capital. It was the very seedbed of Stormfront culture. The heart of everything that mattered. It was a space of cleanliness, and high artistic taste. It was a place of safety, soldiery, and beauty.

Oliver was intrigued to see so many women within its walls. The High King, it seemed, wielded women just as freely as he wielded soldiers. The two were in equal numbers, fighting battles of their own.

The soldiers were dressed in armours laced with shiny copper alloys, meant to imitate gold, wearing the crest of the Pegasus head – the symbol of the Whitehearts, the family of the current ruling High King – whilst the women were dressed in lovely dresses, with their hair done with more attention even than the soldiers shining plumed helmets.

There must have been hundreds, if not thousands of each, and that was all there was, dotting the Capital's grounds. There seemed to be no people of any other position. It was either soldier or… woman. Oliver wasn't sure exactly what role the women served.

"The High King's maids," Verdant explained, when Oliver asked him the quiet question. "They're noblewomen. They essentially play the role of his servants. There are a few thousand of them. They live here, in the Capital. Their houses are just behind the first wall.

Those of particularly high standing might go as far as the second, or third."

"And the soldiers? They're nobles as well?" Oliver asked.

"Indeed," Verdant replied. "Nobles of the most trusted sort. To be in the Capital is to be in a land of temptation. The soldiers too live here, and they're forced – for as long as they serve – to live in abstinence. Any who fail in that duty shall be castrated, and then a month after the punishment, they are to be summarily executed, for they've failed both as a man and as a soldier."

"…Harsh," Oliver noted. "Why have this number of women, then? I assume these are particularly competent men that are allowed to serve in the Capital? Do they forget what a man is? It seems wasteful."

"These maids are the High King's maids," Verdant replied. "To do with what he wishes. One might have the honour of being bestowed a child by the High King, and they shall see their fortunes rise. Others might see to the service of the Queen, when there is one. Or they might seek to become Queen themselves, though that is exceedingly rare.

Typically the marriage of the High King is arranged with a politically high-standing ally. More often than not, from the family of a fellow Silver King."

"What a strange world," Oliver muttered, looking around.

The noblewomen all wore looks of intense dignity, as they went about their tasks, and yet, from what Oliver saw, they were doing work no better than what Serving Class women would expect to do back in the Academy. He saw a pair drawing water from a well in their beautiful dresses, and he saw another carrying baskets of laundry.

Their existence seemed entirely unnecessary. It could have been filled by more competent individuals, with fewer wasted resources, and in the process, they would not have needed to leave their dignity so open to a higher power.

"They are all very proud of the role, my Lord," Verdant said. "They are not inducted unwillingly… Or at least, they are not meant to be. The opportunity to bear the child of the High King would be an immense boon to any of their families. It's a battlefield as intense as the one we fight on, for they are at war for the High King's attentions."

"…I don't like it," Oliver said. That was all he had to say on the matter. Verdant gave a reserved smile at Oliver's honesty, so out of place in a world like this, and the two took the steps towards the Royal Palace together, blending in with the crowd of Queen Asabel's retainers.

Being that they were with Asabel, the guards at the main doors barely glanced in their direction, and simply ushered them through. Ever since their swords had been escorted, the guards had seemed to be paying them less attention. Their presence was more ceremonial than actual.

The doors that they went through would have been big enough for giants. The fact that such things were moveable was a marvel to Oliver. When he looked up, he saw that they were far above him, even as he stood under them. They must have been ten times the height of a man.

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Whilst Oliver looked up, others were looking forward. They'd only just gone through the doors of the Royal Palace, but already, they had stepped into the throne room.