1434: Muddy Greatness – Part 3 1434: Muddy Greatness – Part 3 With their approach, Blackthorn had already drawn her rapier from her hip, anticipating violence.
Oliver looked at her with the smallest degree of surprise.
It seed far too alard an action for the usually coolheaded – if at tis erratic – Blackthorn.
“C-captain,” one of the soldiers said, recognizing Oliver’s approach, and giving him a salute.
Oliver saw him to be one of the newer n, and the other two Patrick companions he had with him were just as new.
A few months ago, they likely would have had shackles on their wrists.
Without a Sergeant to guide them, they weren’t exactly well trained in the profession of policing.
“Captain Patrick,” the other four Blackwell n that were presented saluted him, far more crisply than Oliver’s own.
“Requesting permission to apprehend this man for the disturbance that he is causing.” “You didn’t think to do it without my permission?” Oliver said.
“…He said he knew you,” one of the n responded doubtfully.
“We weren’t certain.” Oliver frowned at that, a look bordering almost on amusent.
‘How must these fools see ?’ He thought.
‘Do they think, that for my fondness for the peasantry, that I would have friends like this, no matter how ragged?’ Even asking himself that, he knew that was precisely what they thought.
His public image was such a ss that they had no way of acting in certainty in regards to him.
With Oliver’s arrival, the peasant had stopped shouting, and he only stared instead, with a slack jaw and – as far as Oliver was concerned – stupid look.
“What do you want?” Oliver asked, not bothering to disguise his irritation.
“You have called for .
I am here now.
What do you want?” “I ca for your tournant,” the man slathered.
“They won’t let enter.” He said that with as much accusation as he could muster, glaring at the n in front of him, looking quite ready to reach for that sword that he kept on his hip.
“Is that true?” Oliver asked of his n.
“Well, aye, Captain,” the Patrick n responded without delay.
“He didn’t have the coin to pay his own way.
He isn’t to be allowed in, is he?” “The other peasants were allowed in without it,” ca the protest, as tongue licked out from the young man’s mouth, to catch the trail of saliva that had been falling from it.
“Tournants were held amongst the peasantry to decide a selection in advance of the main tournant,” Oliver said, doing his very best to remain patient.
“If you wished to enter on the day, then you would need coin.” “I don’t have coin,” the boy spat.
“You’re asking for far too much.” Oliver shrugged.
“That is the way of it.
It’s a price ant for the soldiery to pay.
I already acknowledged that the peasants would be unlikely to, and I made way for them, to give them the opportunity to show their strength.” “I’m stronger than all of these dogs,” the man said furiously.
“I don’t need a selection.” “Do you not?” Oliver said, staring him down, getting a asure of him.
He certainly didn’t seem like soone that was unused to using the sword that he wore.
He almost had the aura of a soldier.
But there was a wildness to him that unscored it all.
He seed far more like a wild boar running through the forest than anything else.
It was difficult for Oliver to ascertain exactly where he stood.
The youth stood up stubbornly against his gaze.
“I’m more than strong enough, ain’t I?” Oliver sighed.
“You picked the worst ti to be causing this ruckus.
When did you get here?
The preliminary rounds are almost over.
You’re going to be thrown in with far stronger foes than you could have been.
You’ll get hurt.” “No.
I won’t,” the man said, and when he said it, the madness about him seed to reside for just a second.
“Are you aware of the rules?” Oliver said.
“First blood only.
If you maim soone, you’ll be disqualified.
Do you have it in you to hold back to that degree?
From the looks of it, you seem far too unhinged to be trusted in that regard.” “I know the rules,” he snarled.
“And I’ll tell you my na as well, so you can know to look for , when you’re announcing the victors.” Oliver waved his hand.
“I care not for it.
Make no mistake, you’re irritating.
You’ve done this without grace.
If you wish for the nobility to give the peasantry the respect that they deserve, then you ought not be behaving like a wild animal.
By the system that we’d already put in place, you would have found your opportunity.” “I wouldn’t have made it in ti anyway,” ca the reply, followed by a shrug.
“Only just got here.” “Very well,” Oliver said.
“I’ll throw you into the Captain’s tournant.
I don’t know how strong you are, but I don’t find I trust you when you say you’ll hold back.” The young man only grinned at that.
A smile that was wider than the length of his face.
Oliver did not think he had t anyone quite that mad since Francis.
“Thank you, Ser Patrick,” he said, in that twisted way that he had, and then even the bow that he gave was just as twisted.
It filled Oliver with repulsion.
He gave a tut, and left him there.
“Was that fine?” Blackthorn asked.
“He’ll get hurt.” “Perhaps,” Oliver said.
“But he will not get hurt too badly, by the rules of our tournant.
I’d trust a Captain to hold back against him, rather than him holding back against a weaker and more unsuspecting foe.” “Do you suppose that he would be able to cause that amount of harm amongst the lower ranks?” Verdant asked.
Only when the Idris man pointed it out did Oliver realize his strange assumption.
He pulled a face, and looked back onto where he’d left the man, only to find that he’d already disappeared.
“…I have no idea,” he said.
The next few bouts saw in them many more Patrick soldiers, and all those who were not yet the rank of Commander.
Oliver tried to keep an eye out for all his n, to see how they did, but in between his duties, it was hard to give them as much attention as they deserved.
When it was Karesh, Kaya and Jorah’s turn to take the stage, he took extra care to make sure that there were no matters that he needed to attend to, so he could watch them solely.
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