A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 435 Retribution - Part 10

He watched as his breath fogged in front of him, and then he brought in a deep breath, and plunged straight into the lake, without further hesitation.

The shock of the cold hit like a hammer to the ribcage.

His chest tightened, and an instinct to gasp for breath kicked in. Had he not been accustomed to it from his swims with Dominus, then he likely would have swallowed a mouthful of water, ending the challenge before it even began.

He'd immediately gone down past his head, and the cold felt like a headache against his skull. He forced himself to remain calm, as his body got used to the sudden change in heat. The panic grew lesser with each moment that passed, and by the time he had surfaced, a calm remained.

His expression betrayed no signs of his discomfort. He leaned forward, and settled into a swim, his trousers feeling heavy about his legs. He was glad not to have his boots on. They would have made the affair even worse.

After a minute of paddling, the cold was forgotten, for a time, as his body settled into an equilibrium, and the muscles warmed themselves with exercise. Chunks of ice battered against his hands as he swam, and tapped against his head when he drove it underwater, but to Oliver, it was far from the unpleasant task that it likely seemed to the others.

He knew the swim itself was going to be the easy part. The hard part would be enduring those long hours in the cold.

Verdant watched, along with the students, as the lake waters lapped away the blood from Oliver's back. There were a few mutters amongst them, a shared sentiment that they could think of no worse thing that they'd rather be doing than swimming through the ice-cold lake, but many of them simply remained silent.

They were looking, and waiting, seeming to expect the mask to crack. There was an idea of Oliver Patrick now, that they had. It had been projected to them through rumour, and given more colour, after the events of today.

"You'll be staying out yourself, professor?" Verdant asked in surprise.

"No," the professor said, looking at him as though he was stupid. "But they'll call on me anyway, the moment something happens, won't they? I doubt my sleep is going to be untroubled, expecting that call."

"You don't believe he'll survive the night, then?" Verdant pressed.

The man merely grunted in reply. "I see you're already enamoured with him, priest Verdant, but though you might have faith in your God of Oceans, I've seen great men humbled by the cold. By even the most minor things. Strength of character doesn't mean much, when your body has already passed the threshold. Just the slightest push. Like a tower of cards.

A mighty General, felled by the slightest knick in his artery."

He spoke as solemnly as if he were speaking from experience. With the scars on his bald head, and the haunted look behind his glasses, it was obvious that the man had not lived an untroubled past.

The crowd parted to allow Oliver through as they spoke. The medical professor grunted as he saw him.

"Move. The whole night boy. Do not keep this façade up for any longer. It will kill you," he said gruffly.

Oliver glanced back at the crowd. "I do not plan to. It has already served its effect. I can feel the blood leaving my fingers."