A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 543 The Expected Enemy - Part 1

"Uhm... Oh, yes, I did, Your Highness. It was... delicious. Thank you very much," Jorah said, managing to keep his voice level despite his obvious nervousness.@@@@

"I'm glad," Asabel said – and she really did seem to be so. "Oh, Oliver, don't forget your blackberry tea. We're allies in this tea game now, after all. I won't forgive you if you don't enjoy it to its fullest."

Asabel saw them off at the door, as she promised to. Oliver left, with the wooden canister full of tea in hand. He couldn't imagine how long such a thing would last him, but he assumed it would be a long time indeed.

None seemed more glad about their departure than Lancelot and Jorah. The two of them seemed to sigh together as the door closed, and Asabel told them to get home safely.

"She's a charming young woman, is she not?" Verdant said, as they descended the stairs. "It has always been difficult to remember that she is royalty. One can't help but attempt to treat her like a friend."

"She seems... interesting," Oliver said carefully. "If the Pendragons are like her, I can see why Father got on with Arthur."

"Hm? Oh, not at all. The right conclusion, in this case, but unfortunately her magnanimity does not extend to the entire Pendragon household. In truth, she's more like her uncle than she is her father, and that's the cause of considerable strain. Arthur's ideals were... heroic, indeed, but they caused frictions in the same way that Dominus' did," Verdant explained.

"I'm impressed with her, to tell you the truth."

"You are?" Oliver asked.

In a stiff voice, Verdant gave his response. "Indeed... It might be wise to flee—" But when they looked back over their shoulders, they found that the way was already sealed.

There, upon the Academy grounds, behind those walls raised high for the utmost safety. A space meant to nurture the most valuable youth that the nation had to offer. A space that had somehow been cleanly violated of its protective qualities.

Oliver saw ten men coming from the end of the corridor, barring the way. As they drew to a halt, their earlier suspicion was confirmed, and ten more men came from where they dared not approach. Men of purpose, men armed with their preferred weaponry. Even without a word their intent was more than clear, their aggression hung in the air as sharp as broken glass.

The safety of the Academy had been violated.

The men were rather brazen in their dress. They didn't sulk around in robes. Of course, such robes would have attracted more attention in the confines of the Academy's corridor. These men were instead dressed as guardsmen. Normally, such a group would be easily ignored – but no group of guards so large would ever find its way to the student's quarters, not unless something dastardly had happened.

Two of the men stood out from the rest of the guards, and their spears. The uniforms of these men hardly fit. Clearly, they were borrowed, or taken. One to the front, and one to the behind. It was not only their wide-open jackets and poorly tucked shirts that set them apart. It was their auras of hardness – the strength that leaked off them.

Strength that until recently had been in the same realm as Oliver's own. The strength of the Second Boundary.

"My Lord," Verdant said, his voice calm and steady, despite the situation. "It would appear two of them are Blessed."

Without needing to exchange any further words, they knew what the situation they'd been placed into was. They needed to play no games, and ask no questions. 'Why us?' 'Do you mean to use those weapons to do harm to a student?' No. The Patrick's were meant to be targeted, Verdant knew. The Minister of Blades expected the same.

They knew that news of Oliver's early ascension to the Third Boundary would not be met with cheers for everyone.