It was short and sweet, but that seed to be appropriate. Nila skipped happily away, shooting a triumphant look at Oliver, as if to say 'See, I didn't have to say nearly as much'. Oliver simply shrugged. Once he'd started speaking, the nervousness had faded. Making it any shorter wouldn't have saved him much grief.
With a sigh, Greeves dragged himself up next. The crowd was still waiting in anticipation, after all, and soone would have to dismiss them.
"Right," the man said, not showing a hint of the nervousness that Oliver and Nila had. "I'm going to be supporting the girl, as she does what she's asked to do. I doubt that you will want to speak to directly, but aye, regardless, I'm here."
His blunt statent was t with mute acknowledgent, as one would expect. Greeves allowed it to sink in for a second longer, before he motioned with his hands to shoo them away.
"That's it," he said. "Ser Patrick only wanted to tell ya a few words, but you've made this big festival out of it. Go on now, get back to your lives, or you'll be getting in the way. He got a campaign to prepare for."
It was a role that only Greeves could have really fulfilled. No one was exactly fond of the man who so bluntly dismissed them, but soone had to do it, and Greeves didn't seem to mind much that he wasn't treated to the sa warm reception as Nila and Oliver. In so way, he even seed to relish the irritated looks he drew out of so people.
Still, even if he wasn't their most favourite person in the world, they still listened to him. The soldiers began to filter away first, fully understanding what it ant to be going on campaign – after all, half of them were following along with Oliver.
After them, the villagers began to filter away too, though they didn't do so without tossing a few glances back towards Oliver, and cupping their hands in prayer for him.
Oliver acknowledged those he could, but there were too many of them for him to catch everyone.
"Well, that's done," Greeves grunted. "I expect they'll last another three years now. They're a strange lot, they are. Looking at you as if you're so sort of saviour."
Greeves' words were t with wry smiles, as those around him saw through his words. "What?" The rchant said, annoyed. "I don't like those looks that you're giving . Are you looking for a fight?"
"It's alright, Boss," Judas said, patting him on the shoulder. "We'll get through it."
"Get through what?" Greeves said hotly. "Don't you be talking down to , you lump of at. Don't you forget what you are – you're an up-jumped bodyguard and debt collector. You might be dressed up all nice, but that's what you are."
It would normally have been a digging comnt, but Judas was able to take it with a smile, knowing full well that Greeves wasn't as angry as he expressed.
As they bickered, Oliver turned to Verdant. "You two arrived earlier than expected," he said, nodding at both him and Blackthorn. "Disobeying orders already, are we?"
Verdant grimaced. "Well, my Lord, such an affair was being made of your speech, that I could not allow myself to miss it. I do not regret that decision, but I am willing to receive any punishnt that you wish to deliver."
"I was also curious," Blackthorn said, without the slightest hint of apology.
"Was your curiosity satisfied?" Oliver asked.
"It was," Blackthorn said, her face straight and emotionless, provoking another long sigh from Oliver.
…
…
The morning of departure had arrived. The villagers weren't told the exact hour that Oliver would be leaving, in an effort to keep the roads free from congestion. But with so many hundreds of soldiers marching with him, it seed likely they were going to find out regardless.
He'd spent the previous day saying his goodbyes to so of the townspeople that he was close to. Mrs Felder had hosted him for dinner, thoroughly enjoying her role as chef. As ever, her food had been holy and delicious.
David had pestered Oliver with endless questions about swordsmanship, as he was growing accustod to doing now that he'd grown up a bit, and Stephanie had stared at Blackthorn all evening as if she was so exotic object, much to Nila's embarrassnt.
Now, with the crack of dawn, Oliver donned his armour and his surcoat, and he fastened Dominus' curved sword at his waist. He always found it to be a cathartic process, as he slowly and thodically ensured that each piece of armour was fastened in place, from his greaves to gauntlets.
With each buckle that he tightened, he fell more and more into the mind of a warrior, tasting the familiarity of the experience. He'd done this so many tis by this point, after all, and each ti he had returned victorious.
There ca a knock at the door. "Co in," Oliver said.
"My Lord," the maid – Kirsty – bowed. "I have been sent by Lord Idris to see if you require any assistance with your armour."
Kirsty was a young woman of a Serving Class background that Verdant had found for Oliver. She was one of a handful of won that kept his household in order whilst he was away at the Academy.
"I am fine, thank you, Kirsty," Oliver said. He always tended to his armour alone.
"Very well," Kirsty said, hovering uncertainly at the door, distinctly awkward now that she did not have anything to do. Oliver broke the silence for her.
"I shall be counting on you whilst I am away," Oliver told her. "Nila and Greeves will require much assistance. As long as it isn't too much trouble, I would ask that you help them."
The woman brightened and bowed. "But of course, my Lord. Everything that I can tend to shall be tended to. When you return ho, you will find your house well in order, and I am sure Master Greeves and Lady Felder will keep the village in order as well."
Reviews
All reviews (0)