A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

But he recalled, faintly, the presence of two people. As he recalled that, he was hit by a different sort of pain from what he'd felt before. This was not physical pain. This was a wave of embarrassment.

"No…" Oliver croaked. "Seriously..?"

From the state of his letters, he'd been found, dying as he was. He'd been found weak, and some benevolent third party had reached out to help him. What could be more embarrassing than that?

From the sound of the letter, and from the state of Oliver's memory, they'd likely carried him back to his room, and then tended to him. Absolute strangers, to see Oliver at his weakest, and most vulnerable. A state that he'd even hoped to hide from his retainers, and now instead it was an absolute stranger that held onto that fact.

He groaned miserably, as he fell onto his bed. "This is the worst…"

The prospect of that tea party that he'd agreed to seemed suddenly like a horrid affair. He stood up, about to tell Verdant to call it off, to make some sort of excuse – but the priest was already long gone, making the necessary arrangements. There'd be no getting out of it now.

The woman, Asabel, would probably disclose the state that she'd found him in to the rest of the Academy. By the time evening came, he would be a laughingstock. Even his retainers would be wounded, that he had called to them for help.

Would they know the state of the Divine fragments inside of him? No… at the very least, from the letter, the woman thought it to be poisoning. And in truth, from the letter, she didn't sound like an overly malicious sort. Given the fact that she'd tended him…

A sudden flash of memory. Being right on the edge of death. His will being insufficient. Coming up short. Falling, falling… Falling. And then a trickle of heat.

The slightest bit of benevolent comfort. Was he right to think that that had saved him? He clenched a fist with a firmness. He was.

But who it was that offered that warmth, he did not know. He'd heard Claudia's voice. It could have been the fragment inside of him. Or it could have been one of those golden entities that hung on the edge of his vision. Or… It could have been that Lady Asabel. In which case, well and truly, that woman had saved his life.

He drew in a breath at the thought of that. His life saved, by a stranger. Gods, he didn't like the sound of that. Not at all. Dominus was one thing – Dominus was his trusted master, and he'd saved his life more than once. But that was in battle.

The way Oliver had been rendered delirious made him feel weaker, worse. It was a state of weakness that a physical wound couldn't render.

He clenched his fist. It sucked. It was the absolute worst.

Strange though, that he was up and moving after a night like that. After a night of staring right into the jaws of death. He had looked at his hand to be sure that it was even real. He recalled the blood that he'd coughed up, several times, and that gelatinous material along with it.

That was well and truly one foot in the grave… but being up like this the very next morning, and being relatively fine – good, even. It felt strange. It felt as though it undermined the experience of death. Made it feel less real.

"Hah…" Reviewing the whole situation as it was made Oliver realize why he sought out the battlefield, rather than a political chamber or something of the like. It was so much easier to cut an enemy down, than to deal with all this reputation-building, and intrigue, keeping everything under wraps, and balanced... Continue reading at empire

What could he even do to ensure that things didn't begin to fall apart as a result of this?

Did it even matter, even if they did? A part of him growled that it didn't. Ingolsol. He didn't speak words, he couldn't at the moment, but he made his feelings about the matter clear. Whoever sought misfortune against them would be dealt with. If it be reputation smearing that Oliver's life fell into, then let destruction be the answer for it.

They'd survived, after all, hadn't they?

Damn it, a sudden realization at that fact. THEY'D SURVIVED!

THE THIRD BOUNDARY!

He allowed Ingolsol to extol his delight with a brief bit of passion, and a fist to the wall. The beam of wood that he hit – a centrepiece in front of the stonewall – deformed under the impact of his fist, ever so slightly, a cloud of dust went with it, along with a satisfying crack. That was the power of the Third Boundary, along with all the new potential that came with it.

He allowed himself to feel that potential swimming through him. Greedily, powerfully, it swam. His improvements would come even faster now, he could tell, and there was likely something else… Something new to be sought out. He could feel the presence of that too.

But there was a gap in it all, a warning. The same sort of void that had grown in him before, like a cancer. It was far smaller now, but not nonexistent. They'd survived, but for how long? It felt like a time limit. Something that needed properly rectifying.

From the experiences of last night, Oliver had the inclining that they needed a third. To match the void that had spread, and to complete the healing, they likely needed a third bit of something. A fragment. An idea. Something. Something beyond what they had now.

Regardless, they lived. Claudia's positivity took over. They lived, and thanks to the efforts of others. Perhaps he should be feeling more gratefulness rather than mere shame at the fact that they'd found him. Oliver knew as well as any that he would have died if he'd remained alone in his room. He'd been right on the cusp.

These strangers, whoever they might use that information of his weakness, they had saved his life. Perhaps it would be sensible to show gratitude merely for that, and ignore all that could be, until it came to be.