A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1109 The Hammer and the Chain - Part 3
1109: The Hammer and the Chain – Part 3
1109: The Hammer and the Chain – Part 3
“Poetry, is it?” Oliver said, sighing.
“Well, a poem could be as short as four lines.
It could be the simplest of metaphors, one could take it at face value, and be completely unmoved by it.
But as soon the eyes begin to see deeper, they see things that the writer might not even have intended, things that aren’t there – and thus does the heart stir,” Verdant said.
“Stop!” Amelia said, she was bright red by now.
“Don’t make it worse, Lord Idris, I beg of you…”
“It is a mere bandage on a hand, Amelia,” Verdant said.
Even he seemed to have lost his patience now.
“Snatch it off, and be done with it.”
With Verdant telling her to hurry, there were no more corners for Amelia to back into.
With her hand moving as fast as a cat’s, she clawed at the bandaged, and pulled it all off in a single swift and sudden jerk.
The bandage caught, and the fingers and thumb well pulled.
It was enough of a wrench that it pulled Oliver sideways in his chair.
“By the Gods!” Pauline said, covering her hand with her mouth.
“Amelia!” Lady Blackthorn said, horrified.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, seeing how much of her strength she had ended up using on fingers that they thought would be broken.
Oliver grimaced ever so slightly.
The pain wasn’t great, given that the wound was still healing, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it would have been if those fingers had been broken.
He shook his head.
“You’ve more work to do as a field nurse, I can tell you that, Amelia.
Well, what do you think?” He held up his hand for all to see, and he wiggled his fingers.
There were scars on the skin, where bones had once pierced through, but there were no longer any open wounds.
Looking at it, no doctor in the world would have guessed that it had been broken so recently.
Months ago, some might have supposed.
“D-does it hurt?” Lasha said.
She was at his side now, and Verdant had stepped forward too, a troubled and icy look on his face, as he glowered down at Amelia.
“I-I beg your forgiveness, Lord Idris,” Amelia said, kneeling before him.
It seemed to Oliver, at times, that Verdant Idris was the only person that the willy little attendant truly feared.
“My forgiveness?” Verdant said, incredulous.
“Not the forgiveness of the wounded man that you so mistreated?
Not the forgiveness of the Lord with whom your Lady has formed such a close alliance?
You have tread muddy feet in halls that you should not have stepped into, attendant.
It will be left to you to clean up your own mess.”
“F-forgive me, Ser Patrick,” Amelia stammered, still kneeling, not looking him in the eye.
“This is ridiculous,” Oliver sighed.
“Can you not hear them out there, Lasha?
They’ve already begun their mock battles.
We are wasting time here.
Can you not see that it is fine?”
“Is it still fine, even after..?” Lasha said, nodding towards Amelia carefully, without throwing her further into the fire than she was already in.
“It is still fine,” Oliver assured her.
“See?” He clenched his hand into a fist, and he wiggled his fingers for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Truly…?” She still seemed doubtful.
“How can that be?”
Oliver shrugged.
“Am I allowed no secrets?”
The Blackthorn Lady looked thoroughly rebuked at that, for she had no more words to say. novelbuddy.cσ๓
“…It does seem to be in order.
Amelia, would you make sure?”
“Me?” Amelia said, still kneeling on the floor beside Oliver’s chair, as upset as Oliver had ever seen her.
“But I just…”
“You made a mistake,” Lasha said.
“Oliver does not blame you.
You are new to such training, and I imagine you were nervous.”
“I shouldn’t be… I have sat the Field Medicine course for many years,” she said.
“But practising it in the control environment of the classroom is rather different from doing it in the middle of enemy territory,” Oliver said, consoling her in a manner that was almost lazy, as he parroted a line that he’d heard a thousand times before.
She must have realized that, for she didn’t look exactly grateful for it.
“Well then, little miss Hobgoblin, here are my fingers, do examine them without snapping them off in another fit of rage,” Oliver said.
“Fine,” Amelia said, her anger overcoming her earlier excitement.
Verdant took a reluctant step back, giving her room, though he still didn’t seem to have forgiven her earlier blunder, even if he was – in part – to blame for it.
Carefully, Amelia took Oliver’s hand.
She felt his pinky finger, looking for an abnormality in its alignment.
And then she did the same for the next finger along, nodding to herself as she did so, the very picture of diligence.
It seemed that finally she had relaxed into her training.
“You’ve cold hands,” Oliver commented.
“For a cold heart, I imagine.”
He was in something of a rush himself, and disdainful of the whole endeavour, but still he couldn’t help himself from making the remark.
Ingolsol taunted him into it.
He knew what the results of the remark would be even before he’d delivered it.
Immediately, Amelia’s eyes flickered towards his, and at an even quicker speed, she reddened.
Now Oliver couldn’t hide his smile.
It was the sort of weakness in a loud woman like Amelia that just couldn’t help but be funny.
She seemed to be conflicted.
Wondering whether to put distance between them, or whether to continue with her examination.
Now her breathing was coming more rapidly, as she grew more flustered, and her emotions spiked.
That didn’t help matters at all.
She was far from being the picture of refinement.
Now too, she was gripping Oliver’s fingers with the sort of strength that seemed to be looking to tear them off.
He allowed it from her without comment, even as her nails dug in.
His was the strength of the Third Boundary, after all, even with a recently broken hand, there was little that the attendant could do to trouble him.