A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1129 A Changing World - Part 7
1129: A Changing World – Part 7
1129: A Changing World – Part 7
So he told himself, but even in acknowledging that fact, it didn’t turn away that he had indeed failed.
He took a step.
A stronger step than he was able to take a week ago.
He was more able to measure his progress than anyone else, for he’d all but sealed off his mind when the week had begun, seizing upon the only narrow path he had to possibly progress.
And so, as soon as he had regained control, those changes had seemed sudden.
It was almost disorienting the degree to which they manifest themselves.
“Pah…” Ingolsol snorted his disgust.
Oliver thought he would rampage more than he had, after being overturned so easily, but he almost seemed accepting of the fact.
There was a trace of satisfaction to him that he was fighting hard to conceal.
Claudia too had a similar such emotion.
She’d battled, though she claimed not to be a fan of such things.
Still, there was that same satisfaction there, along with a mild amount of shame, seeming to regret the fact that she hadn’t been able to tell where Oliver had been hiding.
She’d seen the strength of the flame, and thought it to be the full measure of him, thinking him to be so easily snuffed away.
“I suppose, for both Ingolsol and I, this might be a lesson in humility,” Claudia said cautiously.
“Oh?” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow, with the slightest degree of surprise at her strange turn of phrase.
“We are liable to forget, in times when the boundaries are not pushed, just who it is that has become our Vessel.
You would not have been able to survive Ingolsol influence for all those years if you were so easily snuffed out.
Nor would you have been able to survive the weight of two Fragments together.
Nor even the presence of the Fragments of Divinity that you bore in the Battle of Solgrim, despite the fact they they did injure you,” Claudia said.
“…True enough,” Ingolsol grunted.
“What mortal would I bow to, if they did not have some degree of outrageousness to them?
Now I see your eyes, boy, and I see the fire burning in them.
The fire of a Tiger, I do suppose.
I wonder where your shame is in your failure, mm?
To still have such a strong look, despite failing to meet the expectations that you put out there.
Now you’ll return to that camp, and you’ll be mocked, ha..!
They had better not mock you too far.
For that is an insult that we will both share.”
“…” Oliver acknowledged Ingolsol’s words in silence, before the Dark God too returned to his own silence, seeming to think that he had said too much.
He radiated an aura of hostility that warded away any further questions along that path.
Still, the strength of unity remained.
Ingolsol had been able to play his role of dictator for a time, and now he so willingly retreated back in his shell.
It seemed to please him, almost, that Oliver could still tolerate him, despite how much the Fragment’s strength had grown, and Claudia along with it.
He picked his way up through the forest, his eyes having returned to their usual stormy colouring.
He was Oliver Patrick once more for a certainty – though he looked like a ragged man of the forest, after his week spent living wild.
He could feel the dirt caking his face, and he made no efforts to deal with it.
This was the face of a failure.
There was no need to put on any further performances.
It took him a good amount of time before he reached the winding paths at the bottom of the Lonely Mountain.
A good three hours of careful walking – evidence of the distance that he’d managed to travel in Ingolsol’s spree of aimless destruction.
Even as far down as here, there were scouts.
One man twitched, about to lower his spear, seeing Oliver in the state that he had.
Something must have stopped him though.
Some degree of intelligence that he’d been delivered earlier on.
He twitched, and then he stood up straight and saluted, allowing Oliver through.
Oliver nodded in return.
“So they have not forgotten,” Oliver said, supposing the soldier’s prudence to be Samuel’s doing.
“I will have to give him thanks.”
He flexed his right hand as he walked.
It felt better than it had in a good amount of time.
There was still a stiffness to it, but it would be impossible to say that it was not in fighting shape.
He ached to get out onto the battlefield again, even if he had to do as a man of the Third Boundary.
The other scouts that he encountered, and then the other guards that followed them, all let Oliver pass with the same degree of awareness.
He encountered no trouble.
Not even as he passed into the main camp itself, returning to those seas of tents.
The first thing he noticed was the horse, still saddled, and still drenched in sweat from a long ride as soldiers hurried to see them looked after.
“Karstly has returned…” Oliver murmured to himself.
The timing seemed particularly poor, but there was nothing he could do about that.
He didn’t doubt that Samuel will have informed his Lord of the situation already – and now it would be to the both of them that Oliver had to apologize.
His feet directed him towards his own encampment first.
He knew that he’d at least have to put in a degree of respect.
He couldn’t show his General the same mud-covered face that he had shown his guardsmen.
“My Lord!” Verdant shouted, spying him first.
He had been pacing relentlessly back and forth in front of the Captain’s tent that had remained empty for the duration of that week, and as soon as he’d spied his returning master, his clouded expression broke into one of relief.
He hurried up to greet him.
“How do you fare?
Do you have injuries?”
“I am fine, and well rested,” Oliver said.
“Though I have failed my mission.”
He supposed that of all people Verdant could have told that at a glance, and still he greeted him with that same relieved smile, seeming to think nothing of the fact that he had failed.
