A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 438 The Beginning of Something Powerful - Part 2

"Tevar is coming," Verdant warned him. Only with that warning did he finally stop.

His arms were tired. His whole body, really, was tired. The lack of sleep had drained him. But despite that fatigue, he still felt that he could have gone on for longer. It was nothing compared to the intensity of a long battle. It had been a calm bit of meditation in comparison.

The medical professor had arrived before Tevar had, bearing Oliver's clothes.

"I don't suppose he has to wait for an announcement before he gets his clothes back, does he?" The man called out to Tevar as the General strode over. "Dawn has already come, after all."

Tevar gave a nod, and made a motion with his hand, indicating that it was fine. The professor tossed them into Oliver's arms as soon as he was given approval. The professor grabbed Oliver's shoulder after unburdening himself, feeling his body temperature.

He grunted. "Eyes," he said, then reached up to firmly grab Oliver's eyelid, and pull it back. He grunted again, and then felt his pulse on his wrist.

"Well?" Tevar asked, as he approached.

"Remarkable," the professor said, though when he said it, the word sounded almost like a bad thing. He seemed almost disgusted that they'd been worried.

"The Third Trial is complete, then. For the first time in a decade, we've had a student make it through, Oliver Patrick. Though, I have to say, you look considerably better than the last one that made it through," Tevar said. His strict voice seemed softened somewhat as he offered those congratulations.

The priest hadn't said anything, but something behind his eyes had glowed with approval. He'd insisted on fetching him breakfast on his behalf, so that he wouldn't need to rush himself ragged. Oliver, of course, had been only too glad to agree, though, he'd ended up doing so hesitantly.

How exactly was he meant to treat Verdant? Why exactly was the man so keen on assisting him? He'd spoken of Greatness, as though that explained away everything, and in the moment, it had seemed enough... but now with the lengths he was going to in order to be of assistance, Oliver almost felt bad relying on him. After all, he wasn't the only one who'd stayed up the whole night.

Verdant had stood watch in the cold as well, without uttering a word of complaint.

Oliver wondered briefly if the man had any relation to Lombard, with the stoney way he managed to keep his feelings hidden behind a calm face. Oliver pretended to be calm, he wore the act as a useful illusion, but Verdant actually was that thing. He seemed as immovable as a boulder, though with a much higher level of eccentricness.

Considering the man made Oliver sigh again. There was much he needed to do. Far too much. The previous night had been a good opportunity to think it all through, but he didn't feel any clearer on the exact path that he needed to take.

The Games... Amassing a force... Getting the attention of a General so that they would teach him. He needed an instructor for the sword as well. He'd been banned from swordsmanship lessons, so that was a no-go. At the very least, he needed someone stronger than himself to spar with.

He opened up the door to his room, puzzling through a plan of actions, munching on a small stick of bread that Verdant had got him. Distracted as he was, the woman outside of his door very nearly became a wall, as he just barely managed to avoid crashing into her.

He had to twist violently to get out of her way, but saving his bread was the harder feat. It fell from his mouth where he'd left it dangling, and he had to snatch it from the air in a moment of panic as it fell down past his knee, speeding towards the floor.

"Ah, thank the Gods," he muttered to himself as he caught it. He'd still likely have eaten it even if it had hit the floor, but still.

He straightened up, to see who the woman was that had been so close to blocking his doorway. There he saw a face that he'd much rather not have seen, especially sleep deprived as he was. He bit back a harsh line, and merely opted for a strained smile.