With footsteps already in the hallway, though, there could be no room for reply. These were heavy boots, combined with the clink of plated armour.
A second later, two fully ard n were looking in the door, both of them dressed like juggernauts in their full-plate and mail, with horse-hair helts on their heads, and blue surcoats bearing the sigil of an owl – the sa sigil that Oliver wore on his pin.
"Clear!" The first of the soldiers said. "We shall take up positions on the stairs."
"Understood," ca the response from another group of soldiers. "Moving to take up position in the living area."
The first two went off towards the stairs, and then another six similarly ard n invaded the quiet of their living room, their heavy dresses making the floorboards groan under their weight. Suddenly, the large room was beginning to feel suffocating, as the n ford a ring all around him.
Next to Oliver, his sword lay sheathed on the sofa. He rarely went anywhere without it these days. More than a few of those guardsn were looking towards that sword, eyeing it with venom. Oliver guessed that he'd made so sort of blunder by bringing that along to a et, but even knowing that, he wouldn't have left it behind.
Given his precarious position, it would have been foolish to go anywhere unard when he could avoid it.
Of course, it wasn't like he particularly planned to draw it in the young lordling's presence, but from the way the guardsn were eyeing it as on edge as they were, they seed almost certain that he would.
As the guardsn stood on edge, they heard more feet in the hallway, as well as the sound of steady conversation.
"Yes, my Lord, he arrived just yesterday night. Yes – we tended to him as best we could. Hm? No, he doesn't really have any interest in the won I provide…" Greeves said, his words louder than Ferdinand's questions, drowning out whatever the lordling had said.
Next into the room were those two girls from earlier, carrying yet another tray of food, which they set upon the table as elegantly as they could, before hurriedly snatching up the remains of breakfast that Oliver had left as though they were ashad of it.
By the ti Ferdinand stepped into the room, just followed by Greeves, all traces of the breakfast that they'd just shared had been eradicated, and the girls were ekly heading out of the other living room door, down towards a servant's room at the other end of the corridor.
Oliver stood up to welco the man. He knew he should do that much, at least. Though, as he did so, he couldn't hide a faint twitching of his eyebrow, the only evidence of his surprise at Ferdinand's appearance.
He'd expected the youth to look a good deal like Lord Blackwell, given that the two were father and son. Lord Blackwell was broad, though. Not quite as broad as the Blackthorns, but broad and tall enough to let a nobleman know that the Blackwells and the Blackthorns had truly been the sa house in the past, before the Blackthorns had erged as a branch after a Quarter Inheritance.
There was none of that broadness to Ferdinand, only the height. He didn't even have the darker features of the Blackwells – they weren't as quite as dark in hair and beard as the Blackthorns, but they were near enough to – and in fact, it was quite the opposite. The boy had a carefully combed mop of blonde hair on his head, split apart in the centre of his forehead into a pair of blonde curtains.
His face was well-shaped, almost feminine, missing the square jaw of his father. He was a handso man, for a certainty, but it was clear to all who looked at him that he must have taken after his mother in his looks.
The man too was fashionably dressed. Perhaps more fashionably dressed than Oliver had seen of any other Lordling before. Whilst others followed convention, this man seed to want to take risks with his clothes, and given his fine appearance, the risks that he could take were rather large.
Rather than just a shirt with a ruffled collar, as most noblen might have worn, he had the sa shirt hanging half open, with the top half of it folded across the shoulder, exposing the blue and gold embroidered vest that he wore beneath. It was a look that seed ever so casual there, but of course, it was anything but.
It seed more of an effort to dress like that than it would have been to dress to the usual noble standards.
His dark navy long coat too was cut usually. It seed almost like a cloak. He only wore the sleeve of one side, whilst the other hung over the front of him, shielding most of his body from view, as well as hiding everything but the hilt of his sword.
"Lord Blackwell," Oliver said, giving him a short but proper bow.
"Oliver Patrick – at last," Ferdinand said, enunciating each syllable of Oliver's na as though the very act of saying it brought him joy. There was a smile on his lips – a casual and contented smile, without a single shred of nervousness. "My father said you were an impressive man – your feats certainly show you to be, though I admit, you are smaller than I expected you to be."
"I'm smaller than I intended to be, Lord Blackwell," Oliver said evenly.
The Lord smiled at that. "I imagine so. But then, you are fifteen are you not? There's plenty of ti for you to grow, I suppose… What do you think of these furnishings, I wonder? I worried that they might be too light for your tastes," Ferdinand said, as he took a glance around the room. Continue your journey at My Virtual Library Empire
"You've been most generous," Oliver assured him. "I could find no fault even if I were to look for it. I am most appreciative of this honour that your family has bestowed upon , and I vow to see the people here well protected."
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