A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I have no idea what either of those things are," Oliver said honestly.

Verdant sighed at that. "I thought as much. You have been sent here aimlessly, like a leaf drifting in the wind. You will find yourself stagnating at this rate, wasting time. There are lectures to be had, Young Wolf, lectures available to all the students. You will learn from them, to a point.

But true progress will be had under the tutelage of a master. Few realize that to be the true game that the Academy plays – why else would their very best teachers not be teaching? Just like I, they are searching for worthy apprentices, someone worth their time."

"The Games are a means of achieving that. They're held in the summer, between different students within the year. They're competitions in all sorts of things, duelling, dancing, strength – but there's an element in there that matters more than the rest, where the eyes of the truly important direct themselves. Towards the Games of War held towards the end.

Towards the nobles that showed enough promise to gather themselves a Force – usually a recruitment of members of the Serving Class – and these Forces compete against each other, essentially in mock combat."

"These are armies," Oliver realized. "How come… How come no one told me of this?"

Verdant shrugged. "I can not speak to your ignorance of Academy matters, but by the pin on your chest, and the allegiance it purports to Lord Blackwell, I would assume – if his Lordship did not tell you directly – then he withheld the information only to test you."

Oliver brooded on that, recalling Lord Blackwell, and his cheerful straightforwardness. He did not seem to be the type to intentionally withhold information… though there was an air of deviousness to him, a slyness that came when he was quiet, that bespoke of his skill as a commander. Then there was Lombard…

"Damn it!" Oliver cursed, in a flash of realization, he hit the table with a fist. It groaned under the impact. "LOMBARD!" He shouted, recalling the strange way the man had acted as he sent him away, as though he was hiding something. This was exactly the sort of deviousness that the Captain would pull. Now that Verdant mentioned it, the dots connected.

Verdant smiled. "It seems that you see a flicker of truth in my suggestion. Though, I have to say, for you to be able to mention the renowned Captain Lombard so casually… It's an odd thing."

"Reknowed?" Oliver repeated with an irritated twist of his lips. "He's a deviant, that's what he is. If they knew just how he runs Tolsey and his men ragged. The man's got ice running through his veins – it can't be blood. There's more emotion in a stone."

"And yet you place a good deal of trust in him," Verdant commented with an amused smile.

"I…" Oliver thought on it, then sighed. "My father trusted him, and the man has been good to me. If only he wasn't so irritating."

"He does not strike me as the type of man to withhold information by sheer forgetfulness," Verdant pressed.

Again, Oliver agreed. "No… He definitely wouldn't be."

"So you agree with my assessment that there is likely a test hidden within it? A deeper meaning?" Verdant continued.

"It seems likely," Oliver said, though he was loath to admit it, on account of how irritating it was. It felt much like a battlefield now. He recalled his lecture in strategy just the other day, when he'd pointed out the need for information, after having suffered from a lack of it when was attempting to solve the mysteries that plagued Solgrim.

Here again, it was a similar situation, he'd come in and lacked the information he needed. If it wasn't for Verdant, he would have wasted more time.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

He sucked in a breath, feeling better than he had before. The aching pain that plagued his head had not faded, but in its place, he felt more of a certainty. This was a problem he could solve now.

Rather than wandering around the campus, from lecture to lecture, hoping for 'something', he now had a sense of direction, something that he could grab, and attempt to wrestle to the ground in the name of greater strength.

"You want to advise me then, Verdant?" Oliver asked.

"If you will permit me to, it would be my honour," Verdant said, with a dip of his head.

"You've brought my attention to my situation. You've given me information that I was otherwise lacking. You clearly know more about this Academy than I do – considering I know nothing, that isn't particularly hard – so I ask you: what do I do?" He said.

"When the students come to Peter and I, asking for advice, we usually make a point not to give them an answer directly, but to help them arrive at the answer themselves," Verdant said. "So in that respect, I ask you, young Oliver Patrick, what is it that you want?"

"I wish to break through to the Third Boundary before I leave the walls of this Academy. But more than that, I want to learn what it means to lead. I want to learn from these Generals.

When I leave to war under Blackwell, I want to be confident that I can command an army of three hundred, and do it well, with all the knowledge of strategy that I need to do it," Oliver said, confident now, and certain. "Ah… But then I am likely already going to get expelled over this, aren't I?"

"I would not worry about that," Verdant said. "They will not expel you for your first offence. Though it is not for particularly good reasons, you're something of a celebrity. The people that matter have their eyes on you. I'd hope that there are enough good men still left among them that they see the value of your strength, rather than the weaknesses of your character."

"And so I say, if those are your goals, if you wish to learn what it means to be a General, then your best course of action is to impress one, and to get his tutelage. The Games will be your best bet for that. You have four and a half months until then. It sounds like a long time, but to impress them, you'd need to win.

For that, you'll need a well-trained Force, and you'll need a hundred strong soldiers in it – the maximum squad capacity. Even then, it likely won't be enough. The stronger noble households, like Gargon, they've been training their Forces since the first year – and they've made sure to get the pick of the best Serving Class men for them."