A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

At the professor's instruction, she stepped up across from Oliver, taking her position a few strides away from him, her hands on her sword. Around them, the sparring had already begun.

Wood clacked against wood in furious and irregular rhythms, and there was the occasional grunt mixed in with it, as a strike slipped past a man's guard, and the sword slapped into the padded jerkins that they'd been forced to wear.

Of course, Oliver was forced to wear the same thing. He'd taken off his jacket, and left it leaning against the wall with his shirt. He was too fond of it. It was such a fine piece of clothing, he still hadn't gotten over how good it felt. Even the silken shirt that he wore underneath, he didn't particularly want to sweat in it.

But now that he'd found out there were stores on campus – clothing stores, at that – perhaps it wasn't so big an issue. Oliver had already made a mental note that they would be worth checking out, if only for the sake of having more information on his surroundings.

The woman across from him sprang suddenly, without warning. She was quiet on her feet, and quiet with her mouth – she hadn't yet spoken a word to him. The professor watched – having walked a distance away – and shouted out a command "PAY ATTENTION, PATRICK! DON'T LET YOUR OPPONENT CATCH YOU OFF GUARD!"

From another, it might have been tutelage, but this man, Oliver was certain, simply had a grudge.

Regardless, no matter how fast the woman was, Oliver easily turned her strike aside, without the need to particularly exert himself. He was surprised by the strength behind it, for a woman.

Her face betrayed the slightest hint of surprise, as she saw her unannounced sneak attack get so easily dealt with. Oliver couldn't help but smile. A beautiful woman, for a certainty. He had to contain a laugh. Never in his life had things been so comfortable that he could truly acknowledge the beauty of a woman, and merely enjoy the satisfaction of seeing something special.

Now, with all these riches, all this power, all this opportunity, and only a void in his soul and the pain in his head to contend with, life was far too comfortable. Enough to make him itch.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Blackthorn continued her attack. Her strikes were rapid. She used the rapier for its intended purpose, and unleashed a flurry of thrusts on him, with the occasional slash mixed in to make him guess. He parried all her strikes carelessly. He was of the Second Boundary, after all, the gap between him – and likely every other student on campus – was unbelievably vast.

'The best female student?' Oliver thought to himself with a smile. 'She's good, I suppose…' but even in thinking that, he could not help comparing her to Nila. This here was a refined noblewoman. Her attire was perfectly attended, her blue blouse neatly tucked, her black skirt flowing out behind her, traces of makeup upon her skin. Nila was a different sort, borne of the wild, like a tigress.

Even with all the Blackthorn's training, Oliver was sure that Nila's bow outweighed the Blackthorn's sword by a ridiculous degree.

'The best they've got…' he said again to himself, tutting. Anger was never far from the surface. He allowed his exchange with the Blackthorn to extend into the minutes. He could have ended it all in one sweep. Is this what a noble education was? These beasts lacked ferocity.

The claws he'd seen on the peasants that he'd fought with were far more impressive. They'd have done more with such training.

"Fight me!" The girl said, her mask cracking, as annoyance radiated through.

"Hah! The doll talks, does she? But not enough to introduce yourself? You nobles have bad manners," Oliver said back, merely continuing to parry her strikes, hardly shifting his feet. She darted all around him, like an eel.

The girl went quiet again. 'Not fond of talking, this one,' Oliver noted. He simply couldn't help riling them up. This girl, Gargon, the prodding required to infuriate them, it was so dreadfully minimal, he couldn't help but smile at the thought.

But then with a start, as though it had a mind of its own, his sword suddenly struck out, slamming with a thrust into the girl's stomach. Light, or so Oliver thought, but he saw the pain in her eyes. Her movements dulled, she stepped back, struggling to stay upright.

Guilt came with that. He'd intentionally held back, and yet… She didn't look offended. She looked angry, infuriated that she'd lost. She covered up her pain, and came charging at him again.

Suddenly, Oliver realized that this is what he must have looked like, in the eyes of Dominus. Along such a line of thought, his own actions overlapped with his master so completely, that the idea of it almost distracted him enough from combat to let Blackthorn get a hit in.

The mischievous thing that he'd pulled on Gargon – that was exactly the sort of thing that Dominus would have done, even as he preached about the need for allies.

Again, Oliver parried, and this time, he merely tapped her with his sword, enough to indicate the point, but not enough to wound. She glanced down at his blade, surprised by the speed of it. But Oliver was surprised at himself. So many different roles that he was forced to play, he was forgetting just who he was.

He felt the gaze of Heathclaw from a distance, and a shout rang out towards him a moment later.

"PATRICK! THIS IS SPARRING! BEHAVE LIKE A BRUTE AND 'LL PUT YOU WITH SOMEONE THAT WON'T STAND FOR IT!" Heathclaw shouted. Oliver found it amusing how it was now that the man shouted – when he'd all but tapped the girl.

The girl glanced in the direction of the professor, her eyes narrowed, and a faint blush of shame arose to her cheeks. It faded quickly though, as she returned to her anger, and rushed him in a new harry, releasing three rapid thrusts towards his stomach, doing her very best to slip past his guard.