A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 748 A Grand Hunt - Part 1

No, Oliver Patrick was a different sort. He knew, quite firmly, that he didn't exist completely on the side of the good.

He bowed to her, as he arose. "Thank you for your time, Princess. I shall be busy most weekends from now on, but, if you should ever wish to speak, I shall make time for you whenever you need it." Your journey continues on My Virtual Library Empire

He didn't get a reply to that. From the heaving of Asabel's shoulders, she didn't trust herself to speak. Oliver was not aware of just how embarrassed she was, at having cried so openly in front of all those who knew her.

"Patrick," Lancelot stopped him, just as he crossed the threshold of the door of the living room. He'd hurried to catch him, and he reached out an arm to stop him, a thoroughly serious look on his face. "I think I might owe you thanks – though I do not know what for."

"Don't, Lancelot," Oliver said, brushing his hand off, but smiling to show that he did not mean anything by it. "You are wise to look at me as you do. The Princess needs it. Though, I would appreciate it if you didn't make it such a hassle to get a meeting with her in future."

"That was... petty. I agree," Lancelot said, carefully. Oliver figured that was likely the closest he would ever come to an apology. He looked back in the room, towards the still-recovering Asabel. "I shall give it time. If the Princess does wish to see you, then I would not stand so firmly in your way... Though, I beg of you, do not pull such a stunt as you did there.

You intentionally made it look like a proposal, didn't you? Do you have no mercy, even for someone you call a friend?"

"Well, I suppose..." Oliver said, seeing her flee. "I suppose I don't exactly look my best, do I?"

He was wearing a pair of clothes that he probably should have thrown out. They were one of the many cheap pairs that he'd bought for monster hunting, and one could tell that they'd been used before. The evidence of many bloodstains was still there, even after he'd sent it through the Academy cleaners, and then through Blackthorn's own personal cleaners, they'd returned like this.

Still, it had felt like a waste to throw them out, so he'd ended up buying a leather cloak to go over the top of them, to hide the worst before he got out into the forest. It just so happened that he wasn't wearing his cloak when the knock had come at the door, informing him that he had mail.

He saw Skullic's crest in the wax seal on the letter – a tower, with a flag on top – confirming that it was the reply that he'd been expecting. Something about the way his name had been scribbled so hastily made him think that it had been written when the man was in a less than pleasant mood...

Regardless, he tore it open before the apprehension could fully set in, expecting a long reply chewing at him for all the mistakes that he'd no doubt made. Instead, what he found was something even more terrifying for its brevity.

"Time will tell..." he read. A simple maxim, one that would ordinarily not have been so intimidating... though Skullic's had been written as though he was trying to carve a hole in the paper. Quite clearly, he had been pressing down extraordinarily hard on his pen as he wrote it, and there were three ominous ellipses after the initial line, making it seem far more like a threat than anything else.

In other words, if it proved that he'd made the wrong decision, then Skullic would unleash a sledgehammer on him for his stupidity. However, if it happened to work – somehow, in whatever impossible world it might – then... Well, then Skullic would probably still lay into him for his stupidity when next they met, but at least he'd get to keep his life.