A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"There's also Advanced Strategy being taught to the third years, down that way," the blonde boy put in. "We could guide you there, if you wished, ser, but again I would advise against it, for the reasons that I said earlier. Also, it would be improper for members of the serving class to go so close to the doors of a noble classroom."

But even as he put in that complaint, Oliver was walking in the direction of Advanced Strategy, which happened to be at the end of the corridor in which those two serving class boys had been heading down. "Advanced Strategy sounds interesting," he said as he walked. "I must be a third year then, right, since I'm fifteen?"

The two older students were left a few paces behind him, as Oliver seized the initiative with enthusiasm, and strode towards the doors of his first class, even as the sun threatened to disappear beyond the horizon, and the curtain of darkness fell once more.

They whispered urgently to each other, in a blind panic, as Oliver got further and further away. Eventually, they must have decided it was best not to offend him, even if – at first glance – he seemed to be relatively easygoing, compared to many of the other nobles that they'd had the displeasure of interacting with.

They reached an agreement, and had to hurry after him at a run. How was it that the boy had managed to cover so much distance so quickly when he appeared to be walking at a rather leisurely pace? The wooden heels of their boots clapped against the stone of the floor as they ran.

Abruptly, Oliver came to a stop outside of a thick wooden door, riveted with iron in lattices across it. The dangling ring handle almost invited him to push it open, and he could hear a voice booming in lecture inside it. He was sure this was the room that he wanted, despite the several other – seemingly identical doors – that had been strewn along the corridor beside it.

Stay tuned to empire

"This is it, right?" Oliver confirmed with the blonde boy who had given him the point in the first place.

Breathlessly, the two came to a stop next to him, suddenly realizing that they hadn't needed to run at all. They hadn't even really needed to follow, for the boy had quite easily found it himself, even with such vague directions.

Dominus might have nodded sagely at such a thing, for he had well understood that instinct of Beam's long ago. In return for an inferior general level of perception, the boy seemed able to pick solid routes forward, no matter the terrain. They weren't always the best routes, but they seemed to eventually lead to wherever the boy wanted.

Such a skill was remarkably useful in the mountains, when any path could lead to a dead end, or worse. But here, within the walls of the Academy, as a newcomer, it had its uses as well.

"It is, ser," the blonde boy said, he dipped his head in a light bow as he said it, as though expecting to be dismissed.

Oliver flashed them both a genuine smile. He found that he could do so, for he was almost childishly excited to find out what he might discover inside. He knew that both Lombard and Blackwell had seemed to see the Academy as a barrier for him – more of a waste of time, than anything else. But still, that was not enough to quench the nervous anticipation and excitement that came with something new.

Here he was, a peasant in the costume of a noble. And here he was, about to attend his first class – or at least, the first half of a class. Would what he found inside lead to him getting stronger? Or would it merely be another waste of time? Whatever the case, he realized, he was pleased to be here.

Fresh from battle, with his wounds still aching, and his head and soul pounding with an ever-increasing viciousness, he was still pleased to be here. His pleasantness of mood was odd, even to him, and it proved infectious.

And so, he smiled at the serving class students that had been useful to him, and it was an entirely honest smile, entirely unlike what a noble should be giving to their likes. With it, he gave his thanks, and he asked a question.

"Thank you for your assistance. I owe both of you a favour. What are your names?"n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The blonde boy was too stunned to reply at first. His curly-headed friend – with his cheeks a rosy red from his flustered state, and the shininess of sweat on his forehead – answered first, affably, and with a smile of his own. A human responding to the intentions of another human, forgetting his class. Oliver decided he liked him.

"My name is Kaya Forefoot, ser," he said, honestly, and enthusiastically. He seemed just as pleased to be giving his name to a noble as Oliver did collecting it.

"You owe us no favours, ser…" his friend said carefully, more reserved, his eyes seeing beyond what was merely in front of him, with obvious intention. "But as for my name, I am Jorah Millmaster, if it pleases you."

Two entirely different people, through and through, he had none of Kaya's upfront honesty, but despite that, Oliver decided that he liked him too.

"Very good, and I am Oliver Patrick, once again, thank you for your assistance," Oliver said, nodding his head briefly at them, enough to make both of them stiffen, as the noble came perilously close to bowing to the mere serving class.

Oliver pushed the door open with nary a knock. He merely grabbed the iron ringlet that served as a handle, and thrust it bristly inwards, as though he was palm-striking a goblin. Both Jorah and Kaya were forced to step swiftly from the view of the door, lest their yellow shirts be seen, and they be accused of spying on a noble's class.

They walked away hurriedly, but as they did so, they couldn't help looking back at the odd boy that had introduced himself as Oliver. They wondered at the soldier's scars on his cheeks, but neither of them yet said it aloud.

Mostly, what they wondered at was the unbelievable confidence needed to enter a class halfway through on his first day, to break that unwritten taboo, and immediately incur the ire of the professors.

Of course, the reason for his confidence was simple: Oliver had no understanding that he was breaking etiquette. He merely forced open the door, briefly acknowledged the sudden silence that had befallen the classroom, and then turned to close the door again.