A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Despite his difficulty finding the class, when he entered, it seemed that it still had not begun yet.

Immediately, before noticing anything else, he saw Lasha Blackthorn resting her chin on her hand, as she sat at one of the many square tables, waiting for the lecture to start. She heard the door open, and glanced at him. She didn't make a noise, but he could hear a sigh from the expression on her face.

He felt much the same. Their training together was going fine… It was even a welcome distraction, at this point. It took very little of Oliver's time – a few minutes at lunchtime was all it required – and it allowed him a different perspective on his own swordsmanship, as he strove to teach someone else. Besides that, Lasha herself was good… Interesting, even.

There was a slyness to her, that she seemed to want to hide.

Regardless, whilst their company and time together were going fine, neither particularly wanted to see that much of the other. Or at least, that was the case with Oliver. It still required effort on his part to wear the right mask well enough to present it to nobility.

And so, he chose a square table of his own.

It was a different sort of classroom from all the others that he'd been in. Those were what the other students had called lecture halls, with slanted benches positioned in a semicircle, like half of a coliseum, but the only violence being done was on the chalkboard.

This, to him, seemed more like a restaurant in its orientation. Perhaps restaurant was the right word, but Oliver had nothing else to compare it to. The square tables were positioned such that eight or so groups could be formed, with the participants all facing each other.

And then there was the sort of comfort that you'd expect from a restaurant. Most of the seats even had cushions on, which seemed ridiculously luxurious.

The floor wasn't just rugged, it was also wooded, with floorboards placed out over the cold stone. They were an interior design choice, rather than an architectural necessity – here, even on the second floor, all the floors in the hallways had been stone.

There were candles, and half-drawn curtains, casting the room in a dim light. It seemed so much like a place for social gatherings, that once again, Oliver was half-convinced that he'd wandered into the wrong room. Or, he would have been, had he not seen the chalkboard nestled neatly on one wall. Out of place, but not disturbing the ambience.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. Seven others would be forced to sit with him. He grinned at that. He usually sat at the end of benches, out of a misplaced bit of mercy, so that only one person would have to endure the displeasure of sitting next to a Patrick. But here, he could make no such allowances.

There was a scratching of wood on wood, as the back legs of Blackthorn's chair reached out over the rug when she pushed free of it. She wore shoes today, rather than boots, Oliver noted. They looked better for fitting. They were less blocky, and more natural in their shape… The leather seemed softer – they'd be good—

And then Blackthorn plonked her belongings on the table right next to his, startling him out of his daydream.

She gave him a pointed glare as he looked at her, and he realized his leg was still in the way of the chair next to him, as he lounged back. He shifted it out of the way, and she pulled the chair back with the same swiftness as him, seeming to be aiming to catch his leg.

"…" He said nothing. They were speaking Blackthorn's language now. She seemed to prefer to speak with actions, and glares, rather than words, if it was at all possible. It wasn't even that she was particularly bad at speaking. Oliver had heard her talk, and she could express herself well enough, even in a dignified sort of way.

It was as though to her, talking took far more energy than it did for a normal person. She refused to expend that energy needlessly.

She settled down next to him. There were only a handful of other students in the room, and they were all looking their way. It was impressive how Blackthorn seemed to shift her posture so aggressively that it made it seem like they were the odd ones for staring at her.

They did have that agreement in place, that Blackthorn would make herself be seen within Oliver's company, to try and deter any sort of attacks that might come as a result of his house's isolation. But they were already sitting together at lunch, and they could already be found walking through the gardens together around the same time. That was more than enough, or so Oliver thought.

But clearly, Lasha was of a different mind.

She was sitting right next to him, but somehow managed to position herself in her seat so that her back was to him.

'What in the world must they be thinking?' Oliver wondered, thinking of the students that stole glances in their direction. How do you puzzle out what had just happened? You'd perhaps guess that they were close, with Blackthorn shifting her own seat to sit next to him, but then as soon as you saw the discontented expression she was wearing, that seemed like an impossibility.

Oliver sighed again. It might have been easy to just ask the woman what she was up to, and perhaps dismiss her back to what she was attending to herself, but even if he did speak, she'd likely just ignore him. With the way she'd positioned herself with her back to him, she seemed to be screaming that.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The classroom gradually began to fill up, as Oliver was forced to endure several tense minutes with Blackthorn still on the edge of her seat right next to him. It was like trying to relax by a tree, when you could clearly see a tiger stalking you through the long grass.

By necessity, others began to join their table. Many of these turned out by acquaintances of Blackthorn.