A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"You did not answer my question," Skullic noted.

"I had intended to do them alone, for the most part," Oliver agreed, with a slight bit of hesitation. "Though, there seems to be a good opportunity in them for training my retainers when they are ready."

"Wrong," Skullic said firmly, shaking his head. It was certainly a little surprising for Oliver to be so firmly refuted on a point that he was sure was quite well worked out.

"How do you mean?"

"You correctly interpreted these missions as opportunities. Indeed, they are, once you ignore the fact that you could die on any one of them. But you've misinterpreted what kind of opportunities that they provide," Skullic said, just as Mary arrived back with a tray full of tea. Oliver noticed that she'd made a third cup for herself as she set the tray down on Skullic's desk.

Skullic made no comment on it.

"Martial ones, surely? These are meant to be fights, after all," Oliver frowned. "Perhaps the opportunity to build power, if I raise a force strongly enough…"

"You hear him, Mary? You'd think the Patrick's only knew steel from the way he talks," Skullic said. "It doesn't surprise me that you're having political trouble."

"Leave him be," Mary said, "you know his circumstances. No need to rub it in."

"What opportunities?" Oliver repeated.

"The realm will hear of your missions, do not think they won't. You will not be able to get away with easy ones. The High King made a suggestion and to keep the face of the Academy, I will ensure that your monthly missions are of an appropriate difficulty that even the most ardent of military men would flinch if he saw a boy achieving them," Skullic said.

"Yes, this is an opportunity, for both myself, and for you. Whilst you work under me, I will use you as a whetstone through which to sharpen my own forces and enhance my own reputation. Does that bother you?"

"That seems… awfully upfront, if I might say so, General Skullic," Oliver said. They certainly didn't seem like the most benevolent of aims, but the man had explicitly stated that those were what he would be doing, and it was hard to hate a man as straightforward as that.

"I am told that the best policy when dealing with you is likely to be straightforward. Apparently, the euphemisms expected of nobility are lost on you," Skullic said.

"Do not dismiss your own honesty, dear," Mary called over her shoulder as she reestablished a flame within the fireplace. "Your taste for dishonesty is even less than a Patrick's."

Skullic flinched at the comment, but retained eye-contact with Oliver. "…I would suggest that you consider the political opportunities that these missions provide for you, Oliver. Discuss it with the Idris boy, come up with a plan. You cannot afford to waste your time. Your political weakness is like a disease, a rot.

You might increase your strength in other areas, you might grow even more muscular, but if you do not address the rot, it will only get worse, until the day that it kills you."

"I've seen more than a few men die like that. Weaknesses that they push to the back of their mind that one day creep up on them, as they dismiss the herbalists and the doctors alike. Physical ailments, true, but your political issue, as has been proven, is no less likely to claim your life," Skullic said.

He made a good point, Oliver had to admit. He knew that his politics was a weakness. He'd known that for a while. But what steps had he seriously taken to address it? He'd gathered more retainers to him…. But he hadn't done anything drastic.

It was a serious enough problem that he had to do something drastic. He had to prioritise it above all else, given its severity. Even above strength. It needed some sort of solution, and if not a solution, at least some way of making it more stable than it already was.

"That sounds like wise counsel," Oliver said thoughtfully.

"Do consider it," Skullic said. "The Academy Ministers expect me to teach you, but that seems like a waste of both of our time. They're too old to remember it in themselves, but I am young enough that I remember how much worth I thought I had as a youth. My own thoughts might have been… delusional… but their sentiment was not wrong.

A boy you may be, but a cooperative relationship I believe we can establish. You have enough worth, despite your age, that you can be of a benefit to me. I have experience and position that can be of benefit to you, but you must decide what you wish to know and how to bargain for it. Such is the way of the world."

"Bargain?" Oliver said. "Well, you already know what I want. I want to know what it means to be a General. I want to learn what it means to lead, and what this talk of Command is truly about. I'd thought that, because the Generals were of lower boundaries to my father, that they were all weaker."

"Oh, no, they are most certainly not weaker," Skullic tutted. "A Sword needs a General, but not every General needs a Sword. A mediocre General and his army could overpower even the greatest Sword. That is simply the reality of commanding thousands of men."

"Yes, there's numbers," Oliver agreed, "but you do something different, don't you? There's something that brings the best out of men, that makes them stronger… Some sort of connection."
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Skullic tutted. "I'd forgotten that you'd already led those villagers in Solgrim. Thus what you describe is what you've already felt. A feeling of Command… That's the first step. Some joke that it's as hard as a mage sensing mana to get that far. It isn't, but it's similarly tough… Gods damn it, how irritating is that?" He drained off the rest of his tea with a frown on his face.

"Don't you blame the tea," Mary warned from across the room. "Oliver, you'd better drink yours too before it gets cold."

"It's not the tea," Skullic said quickly. "Hah… You've already got a sense for Command, boy. It is merely irritating to realize that."

"I thought it worked in your favour," Oliver noted. "Given that cooperative relationship you were talking about."