A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1108 The Hammer and the Chain - Part 2
1108: The Hammer and the Chain – Part 2
1108: The Hammer and the Chain – Part 2
“I would see anyway,” Lasha said.
“I do not wish to doubt you both,” she said.
“But I can find no comfort unless I see it for myself.
I will not be able to put my mind on training.”
“There will be consequences for this, Lasha,” Oliver warned.
“You’re signing yourself up for a position of discomfort, in exchange for my current position of discomfort.”
“Whatever it is, I am ready,” Lasha said.
“Then you will lead our training in Jorah’s place,” Oliver warned.
A look of shock passed ever so briefly over her face before it was hidden again behind a careful mask.
“Very well,” she said, though Oliver knew that to be most certainly not what she was thinking.
She was a woman with a particular aversion to leading.
Had she not been forced into the positions he was currently in by her father, then she likely would have never chosen to lead at all.
“Oh?
You believe that to be a fair trade?” Oliver said.
“You, who quite evidently despises such a position?
It will be a morning and an afternoon of discomfort for you, and you’re still quite willing to do it for the sake of this?”
He waved his bandaged hand in front of her, and waggled the fingers.
“Do you not see that it is quite fine?”
“When I saw it, it was not fine,” Blackthorn said firmly.
“It is no exaggeration to say that your right hand is worth a hundred of our men.
How then could I not be more concerned with it?
Why the others are not nearly as concerned seems to be the real question.
Do they know honour?
And… Of course… I am the reason that it occurred in the first place…” She trailed off quietly at that last part.
“Fine,” Oliver said, sighing.
“So it is you, Amelia, who performs the exam is it?
And can we trust your careful hands?”
“What do you mean by that, Ser Patrick?” Amelia said with a strained smile.
“Well, what I said, mostly,” Oliver replied with a shrug.
“We’ve known each other for a time now, and even though our social ranks are different, you have been quite the uncouth woman.
Do I really trust that your fingers will be delicate enough to deal with a recently injured hand?”
“My fingers..?” Amelia said.
She looked to Pauline for support.
“She will not willingly hurt you, Ser Patrick,” Pauline put in.
“Despite her appearances, Amelia is as well trained as could be expected.
She did well in her Field Medicine course.”
“Despite appearances?” Amelia said again.
She looked stricken by the harsh but quiet criticisms from both sides.
“Do be quick, Amelia,” Oliver said.
“If you’re going to break my bones again, I’d rather you get it done before the training proceeds any further.” freewёbnoνel.com
“I shall not be breaking any bones!” Amelia fumed.
“You treat me as if I am some ape that knows not how to interact with people.”
“I was thinking more of a Hobgoblin,” Oliver replied.
Now Amelia was fuming.
She raised her hand in a fist, and looked rather set to strike him.
“Amelia,” Pauline’s voice lashed out like a whip, halting her in the middle of the act.
“I do not… Look… Like a Hobgoblin,” Amelia said, with the last of her calm.
Indeed, at least on that point, Oliver could agree.
She was not a bad-looking woman.
If a man didn’t know her, he might even think that she looked quite lovely.
She had a delicate appearance, with her slight height, and her thin blonde hair, so carefully tucked behind her ears.
It was her mouth that was the problem.
Not the shape of it, or the sight of it, but the words that continued to fall out of it.
Oliver did not indulge her any further, he’d already had his fun.
He held out his right hand in an expression of dismissal and leaned back in the wooden chair until it creaked.
As soon as this business was done with, as far as he was concerned, the better.
With Oliver’s attention elsewhere, Amelia reached out with uncertain fingers, advancing on the raised hand.
She moved so slowly, as if not to scare a frightened rabbit.
One would never have thought that it was a mere hand that she was grasping for, with the hesitation evident in her movement.
Even Pauline found herself holding her breath.
If Amelia had reached forward with her usual sort of firmness, and unwound the bandage with a swiftness like she normally would, the matter would have been over and done within seconds.
Instead, it was drawn out for all long as a minute, and a matter that should have been ever so simple was tainted by the firmest degree of awkwardness.
Oliver could hear Amelia’s breathing as she neared.
He frowned, and turned to look at her.
Her hands still hadn’t reached his yet – and to make matters worse, the second that their eyes met, she blushed.
“What?” Oliver said.
Now he was thrown off.
There was no reason for an act of such simplicity to be as difficult as she had made it.
She had to turn away.
The ever straightforward Amelia had somehow embarrassed herself enough in her slow approach that she couldn’t hold his eye.
‘Why did he have to call me that..?’ She thought to herself.
She’d lost all trace of her calm since.
In an effort not to appear brutish, she’d tried to move slowly, and carefully, and almost maidenly, but as soon as she had tried to, it felt wrong.
Oliver Patrick wasn’t the sort of person that she could treat like that.
“Can we hurry this..?” Oliver said, speaking to Blackthorn for support, but now even she had turned away.
Oliver blinked his eyes, incredulous.
“…Verdant, what the hell is happening?”
“I believe, my Lord, it to be a matter of poetry,” Verdant said, nodding sagely to himself.
It was the wrong time to deliver one of his deep thought remarks.
When normally it might have given Oliver an excuse to ponder, then, it only drained him of energy.
