A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 477 The Grand Forest - Part 8

"Run..." She said, her voice a whisper. Only Amelia caught her. She glimpsed at her mistress's face. She was a head shorter than Lasha, and when she looked up, she could see right into her eyes. She grasped for Lasha's hand. Whatever fear Lasha felt, Amelia – a gentle soul, despite the fire that she routinely displayed – likely felt far worse.

Even the priest in front of them – despite his spear being ready – seemed absolutely baffled. His normally refined appearance was barred by a mouth that hung half open.

It was terrifying. An abnormality. An impossibility. Yet Oliver stood, completely nonchalant in front of them.

He'd removed his jacket for the purpose. He'd made a big enough deal about getting a newer and cheaper one – which Verdant had eventually done for him – that even Lasha had been aware of it.

The jacket that he'd already stained in blood, he now discarded, bearing a loose blue shirt to the elements.

Gods, was he smiling?

The Hobgoblin scampered around loudly, but it hadn't closed the distance yet. Oliver remained nonchalant. He twirled his sword in his hand, testing its weight. He was all that stood between them and an impossibly grizzly death.

Would they just be another statistic, a warning to future students about overestimating their capabilities and venturing into the parts of the forest that they'd been warned away from?

Somehow, she believed not.

As Oliver settled into his sword stance, there seemed to be a glow off him, something that fought back the overwhelming darkness of the Hobgoblin. How could he be the same height as her, and yet appear so large?

The Hobgoblin could stand it no longer, it thudded forward. Its weapon was a thick bit of wood, moulded for its purpose. Thicker than a spear, and just as long, it swung it easily, battering the space in front of it. Where were the openings in that? There was no dodging to the side, or making one's way past it. There was only retreat.

She saw once more just how well-founded that advice was. The hate in the Hobgoblin drove it to unbelievable lengths. Even with a sword piercing its lung, it sought to grab Oliver in a bearhug, and drag him down with it.

Again, it seemed as though Oliver had baited it into that attack. But how could he? How could the Hobgoblin seemingly continue to do exactly what it was that Oliver wanted?

He pulled his sword free in a flash, ducked the hands that were coming his way, and swiftly hamstrung the Hobgoblin, slashing both its legs from the back, forcing it to his knees.

Before the observers could even gasp at the brutality, Oliver's sword came hungering for the neck. It severed straight through, finishing it off, without fanfare or celebration. It bespoke of a man that had done the same thing hundreds or even thousands of times before.

He kicked the headless corpse to the ground, and surveyed the rest of the clearing, seemingly satisfied.

"Well, there's that one, I suppose," he said nonchalantly, turning to them. Lasha was not the only one frozen in shock. It was Verdant that unthawed first.

He dipped his head reverently. "Once more, the Young Wolf shows how unworthy I am of serving him. I endeavour to better, my Lord."

It was not the only time she'd heard Verdant call Oliver 'my Lord'. She'd found it inappropriate each time he did it – for it was a title that did not befit Oliver's rank in actuality – but now, after seeing that display with the Hobgoblin, there was something about her that understood. Something that almost made her want to do the same.

There was an aura to Oliver Patrick that seemed to demand that people follow.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. Verdant was always saying strange things, it seemed. He wondered quite why the others were so silent. They stared at him intently, as though they were dogs and he was holding a scrap of meat.

He supposed it made sense, in some sort of way. The Hobgoblins were intense, after all. Nila had been quite shaken the first time she'd seen one. He'd just expected that it would be a little less, from these students who were so much more worldly than a Solgrim villager. But the opposite was true. It seemed to affect them even more than it had Nila.