A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"For what it's worth, I've never seen something like that happen," Peter said. He was there as well, serving them tea at the table in the little Cabin of Advice that they'd had built. The fire was roaring in the hearth, and there was a cushion for him to sit on. Life could hardly get better.

And yet, he could not settle.

An itching irritation spread through him, as he attempted to solve the events of the Command Class. It was not an entirely unpleasant sensation. There was an excitement to it, an insatiable curiosity, as he was thrust into exploring a realm that he had not touched on yet… but losing still did not feel particularly good.

It was only Gargon. He was not terribly embarrassed about the fact that he'd lost. But he would be should it happen again. There were two weeks before the next class, and Oliver was determined not to have a stain like that on his record.

"And what was with the professor?" Oliver asked, taking a sip of his tea. "He was clearly siding with Gargon, wasn't he? He seemed to know something about what had happened, but he just refused to say anything."

"Just to reaffirm, you did say that you made Gargon's pieces retreat, did you not?" Verdant said, beaming.

"Well, the pieces retreated, and I intended to make them do that, but I don't know enough about that damn board or those pieces to be sure that it was me who did it," Oliver said.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Verdant's smile only widened. "Things around you, Young Wolf, are never disinteresting. To upend a board game that we've used here for likely hundreds of years, and to do it in but minutes of your first game. A remarkable achievement."

"An unintentional one," Oliver said. "Besides, I did not manage to get my own pieces to move. What use is there in that?"

"You don't seem as angry as you would have us believe," Verdant noted. "Are you not rather pleased to have found a challenge, something physical to set your focus on? You've been mentioning the Games, after I suggested them to you, but I imagine they seem a long way off now."

"…It is nice to have some way of testing it. I've only really heard vague things about Command up until now. I thought it was a product of Varsharn."

"Did you know," Verdant said suddenly. "That both we and the Yarmdon worship the same God of War?"

"I did not," Oliver said with a frown, displeased by the sudden change in topic. Stay updated via empire

"Many Yarmdon even know her by the same name we do – Varsharn. But others know her by a different name. The name does not matter, but their relationship does. Varsharn as they interact with her is their deliverer of Blessings," Verdant said.

Oliver glanced towards Peter. "I'm already aware of such things, you may continue your discussion without mind for me," he said.

"What's the difference?" Oliver asked, wondering where Verdant was going with this.

"A Blessing is something we take in," Verdant said. "Command is something that you borrow."

"It did seem strange to me, as the Professor was explaining it, that Command could be collected from multiple Gods."

"As can Blessings," Verdant said. His voice seemed like a bucket of cold water in that otherwise cozy room. It should have been something obvious, but in the world of the Stormfront, such words were the occult. They invited in mystery. Even the Blessing of Claudia was not spoken of until a man was old enough to bear it.

"Verdant…" Oliver said. "To confirm, you have your Blessing from Bohemothia, do you not?"

"I do," Verdant said, admitting it openly.

"Do others know of that?" Oliver asked.

"It would be troublesome for me if they did. These are matters of religion, as well as of physical power. Superstition inevitably intercedes with reality, for in such matters, the supernatural is not obviously separated from what is – and that's fine, I suppose. Ah, but allow me to make one correction. My father knows."

"Is that part of the reason you fell out of favour with him?" Oliver asked.

"He would have disowned me for it," Verdant said, "had the Goddesses' Blessing not saved my life."

Oliver nearly gulped. From the tone of Verdant's voice, and the atmosphere in the room, he was able to catch on to just how serious an admission was, especially when Verdant explained the consequences to him. It was as though they were discussing the world's secrets in the dark. It built up a peculiar tension, and made the already cold air feel even colder than it was.

Even with the tension of it, dwelling on the divine, Oliver needed these answers. It was too awkward to explain the pain that he felt, the hole in his chest, and the ache in his head. He didn't even know if they were physical problems, or mere problems of his mind, an underlying weakness. He didn't want to share them, but he did want to find more information about the Gods.

He needed whatever he could. Claudia and Ingolsol… Those that he cursed, he found himself needing them back, as close as they had been in battle.

"Your Blessing, Verdant," Oliver began, "does it give you strength? How does your Blessing differ from Claudia's?"

"All Blessings grant similar bursts of strength, depending on the strength of the God, as far as I can theorize. Ah, I must point out, Young Wolf, I am something of a maverick in matters of this sort. You must take my opinion with a grain of salt, for you would find yourself a whole Academy of people that disagree with it."

"Yet there's only one in that whole Academy who has sworn to serve me. I would take your word above theirs, even if there were thousands of voices in opposition," Oliver said firmly.

Verdant dipped his head, hiding the feeling that such words brought him. "To continue my answer… All Blessings grant a bout of strength, but they bring with them their side effects. From what I know, the side effect of Claudia's Blessing is enhanced progress, for a time, correct?"