A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 596 General Skullic - Part 3

Oliver didn't let any sort of reaction show on his face. He glanced at the floor lightly and then stood with a straight back in front of General Skullic's desk, adopting some of the affections of respect that Lombard likely would have wished he'd shown back in Solgrim. "Good morning, General," he said.

"No, it's not," Skullic said plainly. He barely even glanced at Oliver as he sat, swinging on his chair, cradling his recently shaved jaw, deep in some sort of thought. Of what kind, it was hard to guess.

"There's sun in the sky, General. As far as winter mornings go, it's rather pleasant, is it not?" Oliver said.

That made Skullic look at him, but not without a degree of irritation. "So, it looks like I'm saddled with a Patrick... Gods be damned. Two sentences in and you're already contradicting me."

"Apologies," Oliver said.

"And just like your father, when you say that, you don't mean a word of it," Skullic said, shaking his head. "It is a poor morning as far as mornings go, Patrick. My room is a mess."

"So it is," Oliver agreed, though he knew that – beyond a shadow of a doubt – it was Skullic that had caused it. "Paperwork again, General?"@@@@

Skullic's eyebrow twitched. "Worse than paperwork. A damn commitment. What do you have to say for yourself, now that you've managed to bite into my already sparse amount of time?"

"Apologies," Oliver said again. "I didn't make the choice."

"No," Skullic agreed, "you didn't. If you had, it would have been an error in judgement. So, what do you know of me, Patrick?"

"Very little," Oliver admitted.

"It is," Oliver said. "I have an interest in what it is you do. I told Lord Blackwell that I wanted to see what the path of a General had to offer. I intend to make good on those words."

"Blackwell?" Skullic murmured, digesting the name. "Well, I suppose that would explain him giving you that badge..." Skullic drummed his fingers on the desk, his mood seeming to be improving. Then he noticed the mess on the floor again, out of the corner of his eye, and he slammed his fist on his desk with more than enough force to crack it.

It was a testament to the strength of that desk that it held strong. The wood of its tabletop must have been several inches thick and an absolute nightmare for any removal men to set in place. But for all that, it survived, when lesser pieces of furniture – there were more than a few broken chairs – did not.

"MARRRRYYYYYYYYY!" He shouted, aiming his head towards the ceiling. His shout was as loud as one would expect from a young General. Oliver would not have been surprised if half of the Central Castle had heard that shout.

The door to the room was opening before the General had even finished his shout.

"Oh, Mary," Skullic said, cutting off abruptly, and returning to a more level tone of voice. Oliver glanced over his shoulder to see the new arrival.

"Again?" The woman murmured. She seemed to be a maid, from her dress... but Oliver was accustomed to maids carrying themselves with a certain meekness. This woman had none of that. She was shooting an annoyed glance at Tavar, even though he was certain to be her employer.

Oliver had to check again, to really be sure that he was what he assumed. That black dress, with the white apron over the top, that was right, wasn't it? That was what Lombard's maids had worn, and that was what he had seen several Academy-employed maids wearing, as they went about their duties in the hallway.

"It wasn't me," Skullic said defensively.

The woman eyed him, apparently not believing a word. Under her gaze, even the strongest men would have buckled, just as Skullic quickly did. "I mean... It wasn't me. Not me right now. A different me, perhaps..."

What followed was likely the longest sigh that Oliver had ever heard, as the woman marched past him – he was surprised by just how tall she was when she neared, she seemed almost a head taller than him – and strode towards Skullic's desk.