A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"You really are not fond of the noble folk," Verdant noted, as he went about eating his own meal, with a considerable degree more delicacy than Oliver.

There was a clatter of plates, as another tray was thrust down next to them.

"My lady, we'll make sure to sit right behind you, so just let us know the moment he does anything suspicious," Ameilia said.

"Amelia!" Pauline chided. "You really must stop saying that will get you on Ser Oliver's bad side."

Oliver looked over his shoulder, surprised to feel his energy drop as he saw the same two faces from this morning again. They were pretty faces, it should be said. Amelia with her pale blonde hair, and her skinny fairy-like figure, whilst Pauline had a rounder face, with a kind expression, and short cut brown hair to go with it, hair that seemed to sit just as gently as she.

Pauline dipped her head when their eyes met, a faint blush on her cheeks. No doubt she was embarrassed to have her fellow retainer behaving so impetuously. Amelia, on the other hand, stood bolt upright by way of protest, pointedly putting her hands on her hips as she refused to bow. A troublesome girl, for certain.

"It is customary to bow when you catch the attention of nobility," Verdant said, his voice tinged with the sort of authority that only nobles accustomed to having people obey them would have. Immediately Amelia bent at the waist, with an urgency that suggested it was more instinct than conscious action.

Verdant didn't press them any further. He had the sense to guess what was going on, despite having no other details than their current interaction to go on.

"Lady Blackthorn," he said, dipping his head, as though she were above him. Oliver noted that gesture. He'd have to ask the priest about that. Why was he bowing his head to her, when they were both nobility? Her father wasn't a Lord, was he? Oliver didn't think so.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

He was certain Amelia would have brought that up by now if she was.

Blackthorn returned the nod with all the dignity expected of nobility. She sat to Oliver's left, the space between them more than enough to fill a whole person in. Oliver sighed at the petty gesture. She was fulfilling their agreement, whilst making it clear that she would rather not be near him.

'But it was your idea in the first place…' Oliver thought to himself, that tiredness once again clawing at his head, joining the cacophony of other pain that dwelled there so constantly as of late. 'Why did I even agree to this?'

His mind flashed back to how obstinately the girls had forced the agreement on him. 'Ah… right.'

"No greeting for me?" Oliver asked, jabbing at what was left of his pie. He shovelled it into his mouth with less grace than one would expect of nobility. Perhaps the presence of the ephemeral beauty that was Lady Blackthorn should have been enough to refine those manners of his, but he found the opposite was occurring.

The little bit of attention that he usually devoted to his manners – in an effort to seem more noble – was cast aside, as he found he didn't care at all what this woman thought of him.

She ignored him, as was her way. He glanced at her plate, not bothering to hide the fact that he was looking. Part of him was curious about what noble women ate. He noticed that the portion sizes were half of his, and the plate was considerably more colourful, with far more vegetables. But that did not stop her from having a generous portion of cake, a cake topped with the same strawberry as his own.

"I found out this morning, Verdant," Oliver began, as he continued watching Blackthorn eat, "that nobles were allowed retainers." He spoke so that Blackthorn could hear him just as clearly, for the question was equally as directed toward her as it was Verdant.

"That is the case," Verdant agreed. "Again, I am surprised that this was not knowledge that you already had, Young Wolf. Troubled, even. Your worldview differs to my own in ways that I don't fully grasp. That troubles me."

Blackthorn looked up, evidently interested in the conversation. Oliver saw agreement in her eyes, but she did not speak it. Was it because Verdant was there? He wondered why. The priest did have a rather intimidating aura to him… and Blackthorn didn't speak much anyway. He could understand being put off by his presence.

"Is it not against the rules or anything for you to be showing deference to a specific pupil, Verdant?" Oliver asked. As a member of staff, he'd expect the priest to have been somewhat more impartial… But the man had directly said more than once that it was Oliver that he was interested in.

"There are duties expected of me. As long as I carry them out, I do expect anyone would complain," Verdant said. "Many staff members come to the Academy – after their graduation – for reasons the same as my own. They seek connections, opportunities, ways forward in their lives, having not decided on it yet.

The role of a staff member at the Academy serves that period of 'unknowingness' at the start of an adult's life quite well. It allows you to do something productive, whilst also leaving your options open."

"Heh…" Oliver said, only half listening. "So anyway, I was wondering, what exactly does it mean to be a retainer?"

He saw Amelia and Pauline's ears perk up from behind them. There was a good metre between themselves and their lady, but with the way Oliver was sitting, they could hear every word, if he wanted them to.

"Well, I suppose it would depend on the noble houses involved. Many have distinct traditions that are separate from the norm. Some swear an oath of loyalty before a God of their choosing in the shrine of the noble's home, and others sign a contract, of the sort that a merchant might use, it depends," Verdant said, still delicately chipping through his food.