A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I would not," Oliver said. "Not now that I have tasted a true battlefield, and I know the distance between myself and these men that are considered to be truly great. Even if I have to do it with a single hand, I intend to use this opportunity for all its worth."

"My role is to facilitate my Lord's wishes. I can only give counsel. It is not wise to force counsel upon you that you will not heed – not when you already know the position that I stand upon. Indeed, I could tell you to be wise, for it would be wisdom to rest, but you will not do so, so I will urge compromise instead. You will have to avoid the use of your right hand entirely.

We will bandage it tightly enough to stabilize it," Verdant said.

"Will that work?" Blackthorn said. "In the saddle, the arm will be tossed… and when fighting, the impact of a blow goes through the whole body. You won't be able to avoid the use of the hand entirely…"

"But we can take measures to ensure that it is used as little as possible," Verdant said. "The bandages, if you would, Lady Blackthorn. We will break up these splints, and run them across your entire palm my Lord. Each finger shall have one, even those that are not yet injured."

"A scaffolding," Oliver noted. It was a technique that he'd heard the medical Professor mention once, in passing, for especially ruined bones. Where one splint wouldn't be sufficient, or where rest wasn't possible.

"Indeed," Verdant said, beginning his work. He measured his thin splints against Oliver's fingers, and then snapped them down to size. Blackthorn hovered behind him unsurely, her hands fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt, as she anxiously looked for something to do.

The opening of the door interrupted them.

"I believe you were told not to disturb—" Verdant began angrily, turning on the intruders.

"W-what? Uhm… I beg your pardon, my Lord Idris," Pauline said, shocked, but hurrying to obey nevertheless.

Verdant tutted at their retreat. "The both of you have already seen," he said. "Were you not told to stay away from the wagon?"

"We were not, my Lord," Amelia said formally. They both had a parcel of food each. Their intentions to bring it back for their mistress seemed obvious enough.

"Then sit," Oliver said, taking over, "and don't breathe a word about this to the soldiers. Do you understand?"

The two of them nodded, taking a seat on the opposite bench, and Verdant resumed his work, carefully bandaging the split of each finger one by one, before setting up a larger splint for the wrist.

"The fall…" Pauline said quietly. "That must have been it, right?"

"Our Lady said you grabbed her as she fell," Amelia said. "…Thank you, Ser Patrick."

It was strange to see guilt from Amelia as she said that. It was a guilt that both Pauline and Lasha herself seemed to share. Oliver pulled a face, and his eyes flashed gold. "I do not need sympathy, least of all from you, Amelia. It is disconcerting that now, of all times, you choose to show a modicum of respect. Make no mistake, this injury is not nearly as bad as it looks.

It will not hinder me."

"You've broken your hand!" Amelia said, unable to keep your voice down. "No, it would be far more accurate to say that you've shattered it. How could you possibly say it will not hinder you?"

"Because I will not allow it to," Oliver said, his words were almost violent. He hadn't lost his earlier bloodlust, being so close to General Khan, and being unable to scratch him. The second his emotions grew heightened, that bloodlust came pouring back. Amelia shrank away from the intensity.

"I will not allow it," Oliver said again, clenching the fist of left hand. "It is not the first time I have been injured, nor the last. I need to get stronger. That is all."

"It was my fault. That you needed to protect me – that is what—" Blackthorn said.

"Silence, Lasha," Oliver said. "I do not have the patience for that. I was unable to overcome General Khan. That is the only reason for this current position. I am a whipped dog, and I have the hand to prove it. If I was stronger, it would not have happened.

It might be right to say that I'd grown complacent, but I don't think it's a description strong enough."

"No, my Lord," Verdant said. "I believe that knowing exactly what the problem you're trying to solve is, that's just as important as actually trying to solve it. You had not felt a General in command of thousands for yourself. There is no way to replicate that feeling. You came as close as you could without it, but when you're dealing with forces of this magnitude, specificity is important. Precision."

"Indeed, I am more in agreement with that," Oliver said. "I would growl and declare that I wish I'd done more these past years… And I would find anger in that," his eyes flashed, confirming the truth of that emotion. It was with a considerable effort that he clamped it down again. "But even though I am angry, I cannot afford to waste time dwelling. These men will not wait for me.

Not Karstly, not Blackwell, not Khan. I need to be quick."

"But how, Oliver?" Blackthorn said. "Your hand is broken! You say you need strength, but with one hand less, how can you be anything but weaker?"

"I will find a way," Oliver said.

"If you had that hand, you would not need to find a way," Lasha said.

"If I had strength, I would still have had the hand," Oliver said, almost smiling as he saw that they were going around in circles. "Verdant's said it before, a hundred times over. The gravity of competence. If I were stronger, I could have avoided it. Now, I do not have that option. The damage is done.

Only strength will repair it, just as it could have saved it."