"So? If you're going to act tough, at least act tough the whole way through! Everyone's saying the Three Trials didn't bother you, 'cos that's what you want them to think, isn't it? Are you really going to drop that act now?" Ailia said, not backing down, but not exactly retaining her cool either.
She'd gotten so worked up that her cheeks had gone red, and a few strands of blonde hair stuck to the sheen on her forehead.
"Ailia, please…" Pauline begged, but the fiery little Serving Class girl – she was at least a head shorter than Oliver – wasn't backing down.
"Ailia, that's enough," Blackthorn said quietly. "You'll get yourself in trouble if you speak any longer. You're right – he is an." She hung her head languidly. It was so clear to Oliver that she was rely putting on an act, so painfully obvious, that it made him want to drive his head through a wall. He was incredibly late by this point.
"This is absolutely insane," Oliver said again. It was as though he'd walked into a sea of madness. This trio – perhaps excluding Pauline – had completely abandoned common sense. Ailia especially was so far out of line it was hard to even see the line anymore. But sohow, Oliver found he couldn't entirely disagree with her.
He'd spent the night reexamining himself, and his weaknesses. He knew them better than he had the previous day, and he knew that his position as an outcast couldn't continue much longer. It had only been a handful of days, but it was enough to make his enemies – or more like, the enemies of the Patrick na – comfortable.
Had he had a greater degree of connections, Heathclaw wouldn't have been able to pin him down as much as he had. It would an upsetting more people than rely the son of the rogue knight Dominus Patrick. Of course, that situation had devolved because of Oliver's inability to keep his cool.
But Oliver wasn't confident he could keep his cool in future either. He hadn't managed to address the heart of the problem. Put in the sa situation, with Heathclaw, in his weakness, taunting him, Oliver was quite sure he would have driven him down again. The restrictions and sensibilities of noble society did not sh with his more straightforward way of doing things.
He simply couldn't find it in himself to tolerate disrespect when it ca. A challenge from another man, spoken so brazenly, a childish part of him always wanted to put him in its place. And now he had lost the ans of properly controlling that childish side.
It had all the makings of the situation with Greeves all over again. With people mistaking isolation for weakness. Even without that, there were his imdiate goals of finding a General to teach him. He didn't know what went into gathering a force either, but he assud he would at least need so influence.
"Fine," Oliver said quietly. "Your serving girl convinced to at least hear you out. But make it quick. I'm going to have to run at this rate."
"I'm not a serving girl, I'm a retainer," Ailia corrected impetuously. Pauline waved her back again, chiding her for speaking that way to nobility. But in all honesty, Oliver found it refreshing. He'd quickly grown tired of people treading on eggshells around him, and speaking to him through euphemism, rather than voicing their true thoughts.
Oliver shook his head as she pouted, thoroughly indicating that he didn't care.
"I think I should correct my friend, Ser Oliver… I don't think any other noble would have waved rudeness away so lightly. I'll be sure to let her know that," Pauline said, humbling, giving him a thankful bow of his head. He shrugged, not caring – he was a peasant, after all. The reverence they paid to his noble title was a re illusion.
"Hear out?" Blackthorn interrupted with a tilt of her head. "But I've already said what I asked for."
Oliver felt his eyebrow twitch. "I would have thought you were at least offering sothing in exchange…" he said, fighting back his irritation once again.
"You teach , and then you get to be around , is that not enough?" Blackthorn said, as though it was as obvious as the sky above them. He could hardly believe the arrogance that so quickly asserted itself from her. She acted as though she had trouble speaking, or as though she didn't like it, but when it ca to insults, she spoke as clearly as anyone else.
"My lady… you shouldn't be trying to upset him again," Pauline said nervously. She seed to be the only voice of reason.
"I'm not trying to. I'm only speaking the truth," she said. "You get to keep company with Lasha Blackthorn. That will do wonders for your reputation, no?"
"…" Oliver just stared at her, montarily stupefied by the confidence. "So you're saying, in exchange for teaching you, you'll pretend to be friends with ? Can you even get more insulting than that…"
"It isn't an insult, it's true," Ailia chipped in again. "Your reputation is terrible. Having my Lady near you would be a good thing, wouldn't it?"
He narrowed his eyes at both of them. He'd thought that they were playing a different ga. But they seed to recognize the position that he was in just as well as he did. Even as an illusion, they realized the value keeping the company of another noble would have for him.
'Damn it, master, what kind of title did you saddle with?' Oliver asked in his head. For the Patrick na to be so sullied that bargaining for comrades seed to be sothing of a necessity. It was an insane position to be in.
He sighed, relenting. "I'm late," he said. "Congratulations, you three. You've completely drained my energy. I don't know what kind of vampires you work for, but they've surely trained you well… Lady Blackthorn, I will consider your request. If you find , at lunchti, with sparring swords for the both of us, then I will see if it's possible to train you.
I will not make any promises until I can be sure I can make you stronger."
"That's fine," Blackthorn said, a certain fire and assuredness in her voice. It seed to speak of her supre confidence that if there was a path to getting stronger, then no matter what, she would be able to take it.
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