A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I don't suppose that's your room there, is it? Would be a hell of a coincidence…" He said, nodding to the door opposite his.

"No," Blackthorn said, with the same amount of emotion that she had shown yesterday, which was to say, none at all, aside from an overwhelming coldness. Between her, Verdant and Lombard, there was enough stoniness to construct a mountain range.

"A friend then, I suppose?" Oliver said. It was a mere polite conversation that he was making, since she was right there, but there was a tension to his words, as he recalled their less-than-amiable sparring yesterday, and what had followed it. As he spoke, he made it clear that he was on his way to do something, and did not pause his walk.

"No," she said again, and with it, she held out her arm to stop him.

Oliver found himself squinting as he struggled to contain his annoyance. It was endurable, and he could have done it for much longer, but he had still spent the entire night outside, without a drop of sleep. His patience was not exactly at its highest point.

"What, are you out for revenge for Heathclaw or something?" He said, there was an edge to his voice, and warning.

She shook her head, her shining black hair tossing as she did so. Something about the motion seemed sincere, and the edge was taken off Oliver's irritation, and he reverted to exasperation instead, letting out a sigh.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"You know, it would be a lot quicker if you just told me what you want," Oliver said, doing his best to speak kindly, as though he were speaking to a child, as though he could somehow coax the words out of her. "I'm on my way to class. I'm going to be late at this rate."

She cocked her head. "Why? Aren't you tired? Everyone would understand if you stayed behind."

Immediately she defied his assumption that she found speech difficult. It seemed more as though she was simply refusing to speak on that which she did not want to discuss.

"No," Oliver lied, meeting her eye and feigning the same monotone answer that she'd given him. It was a mistake. He shouldn't have tried to out-stubborn her. She saw no amusement in it. Her arm was still and the way, and she showed no intention of moving.

He sighed again. "How did you even find me anyway?"

No response, this time. Maybe he should have been thankful that he even got a 'no'.

"Look… I'm going to need to get going—" Oliver began, only to be cut off, as the door opposite his opened, clattering heavily against the wall. Oliver's neighbour, it seemed. It was the first time that he'd caught sight of him.

The boy came to the door yawning, a leather satchel leaning against his shoulder, his hair a mess. He glanced across the corridor noticing them, and his eyes flashed open in startlement. Oliver raised an eyebrow at the reaction, whilst Blackthorn glared, as though warning him away.

"G-good morning…" The boy said meekly, before turning and walking away, a little too meekly.

"Hm… Is it me he's afraid of, or you?" Oliver asked. "I don't think I'm particularly scary."

"You are scary," Blackthorn said. She said it so fiercely it was almost like a religious vow. It was hard to tell just what she was thinking. Her display of emotions seemed unusual, at best.

"Am I?" Oliver asked, disconcerted to hear that from the person that was standing in his way. "You didn't seem that frightened sparring me yesterday."

"With a sword, it's different," she said. "Today, you are scarier," she said firmly, before allowing them to fall into a deep silence again. It was as though she'd mastered the art of completely killing a conversation. There was no indication of how Oliver might follow up that proclamation, nor any indication that she was going to get out of the way.

"Fine, fine, I'm scary," Oliver said, taking a step back into his room – she still hadn't allowed him to make it out of his door – and making a pointed gesture. "Better now? Now scary is a step further away. Or better yet, you could let me go, and then I could be on the other side of the Academy."

If only Verdant were here… The priest would have been able to get rid of her far more easily than he. That thought startled him. He'd only been around the priest for a day, and already he was finding him more useful than a pair of shoes… He wondered what it would take to secure Verdant's service personally.

As Oliver stood there, considering how to get rid of her, he saw two more women's heads stick around the corner. They met his eyes, and startled just as clearly as his neighbour had, pulling back behind the stone wall.

"Who were they?" Oliver asked.

"My retainers," Blackthorn said, without even looking around. He wondered whether she had remarkably good senses, or whether she had simply expected the two girls to appear there. Something about Blackthorn's eyes told him that it was likely the former. The brown of them was so dark that it was almost as black as the pupil, but it was their focus that was strange.

They were lined up with him, but it was as though they weren't looking at him, nor were they really looking through him. It was as though they were striving to take everything in at once. "He's already seen you," she said. "It's embarrassing to keep hiding."

"Yes… Lady Blackthorn…" A girl said meekly, reluctantly. She wandered out from behind the wall, dragging her feet, and pulling her friend by the hand along with her.

"Let me go, Pauline!" Her friend hissed in alarm. She looked at Oliver again, and as soon as their eyes met, she struggled even further. She looked quite ready to punch her friend in order to get free.

"You're embarrassing our Lady," the girl said, though she seemed no less terrified than her friend. Once they were quite free of the wall, she gave a stiff bow. Oliver noted the yellow vest that hung over her black dress. "G-good day, Ser Patrick."