"Don't worry," Judas said, assuring Oliver. "He's just trying to save his pride, I reckon. There's not a man in this village that would stand against you, Oliver. It's yours, properly."
By Ingolsol's grip, Oliver knew it to be true. Greeves' heart was a more complicated one than any of theirs. The sheer intensity of the emotion that swam through the man was enough to be maddening. It was baffling to Oliver, seeing it, that the man could live in that state. But so too, could he detect the man's passion. There was no disloyalty there, no deceit.
"Leave me with a modicum of self-respect, won't you…" Greeves complained, turning away. "Crying the night before, and now this bollox. I've been thoroughly relegated."
"Not at all," Nila said, smiling, placing a kind hand on his arm, treating him as she would an old grandfather. "Only relative to Oliver. But relative to the rest of the world, we've all been raised up. That's enough, isn't it?"
"Don't treat me like I'm senile," Greeves said, snatching his arm away. "I fear what's going to happen in three years' time, when you're a woman grown, and he's a man… My sanity is going to be torn to shreds."
With the plan to build a wall settled, and the gathering of soldiers bashed out into something that neared an actionable plan, they steadily made their way through the breakfast together.
Both Nila and Judas claimed to have already eaten, but the two of them still steadily put away just as much food as Oliver and Greeves. No shortage of compliments flew Judas' way for the bread, the jam and the cheese. He received all of them beaming like a child, as though he'd made it all himself.
They expected Ferdinand to walk in at any moment. He was a good forty-five minutes late by the time they finally caught wind of him from the sound being made outside. One of the earlier women that Greeves had brought came rushing in to confirm it, her earrings swinging like a clock's pendulum from her activity.
"He's he!" She cried.
"I know, we heard," Greeves said impatiently. "Go on now, Stephanie. You know what to do. It's your first time greeting him, but it's no different than greeting me. Just be polite, and be charming. Give him your best smile, aye?
I'll be up after you in a minute."
"R-right…" The woman stammered, taking the advice to heart, nodding to herself, as if that would bring her more confidence. It took her two nods and a clench of her fist before she gathered herself enough to flee back outside.
Nila eyed Greeves crossly when she was gone. "You have a whore by my sister's name?"
"Hm? I don't think your sister has a hold over that name, you fuckin' naggler. Besides, she's not a whore. She's a uhh… Mood improver, is what she is. I don't deal in whores anymore. I'm a better man, see?" Greeves said.
"Liar," Nila said, staring at him. "Why keep all those girls, then?"
"Perhaps I simply like being surrounded by beautiful women?" Greeves said. "C'mon, leave me alone. I don't have time to put up with today, so get your claws out of my coat. The girls have their uses, even if they aren't whores. Do you think I'd reveal those secrets to you?"
He left her with a sweep of his magnificent fur coat, dotted with a leopard's skin. Nila still looked irritated, even when he'd already gone. They heard his voice booming outside, as he invited the nobleman off his carriage.
All his time in Solgrim, the name Ferdinand had been sung to Oliver as though it was the name of a deity. He'd been a mystical figure. Every reference to him was fraught with mystery. His was the sort of coming and going that seemed to happen so suddenly.
Oliver didn't even think that he'd ever gotten a proper glance at the man, despite this grand house that he'd had built in the village for the express purpose of having it monitored.
And now that same man was coming to pay his respects to him. Or at the very least, he was coming to greet him. He'd travelled all the way from Ernest for that purpose. He'd made a gift of his own village and his own house for that purpose. It made Oliver's head ache when he thought about it.
He even saw Nila grow a little stiff beside him, as they heard Ferdinand's reply to Greeves' greeting. His was the steady voice of a noble, every syllable announced perfectly.
"Have you not met him before?" Oliver asked.
Nila shook her head, tossing her red hair from the motion. "No," she said. "I've seen him, but I've never met him. I wonder if I should even be in this room?"
"You're telling me?" Judas said. "I'm meant to be a fricken bodyguard… Shit, I better stand up. It's going to look strange me not guarding something."
"You've got a good point. I shouldn't be sat down in the presence of nobility, should I?" Nila said, hurrying to stand up from her seat, and moving behind Oliver's chair instead.
He made no moves to stop them, even if it was a little irritating to have to play pretend like that. Rightly, they were more important to him than any nobleman, but their interpretation of noble customs was dead on. Even a Serving Class man sitting in his presence would be awfully informal. For a peasant to do the same would be bordering on a sin. More than an eyebrow would be raised.
Oliver finished off the last of his bread with a small sigh, dusting the crumbs away from the front of his shirt. He saw a flicker of amusement in Nila's eye when she saw what he was doing. Had she been able to speak, she might have pointed out the fact that no matter how much he progressed, he still remained a reasonably messy eater.