"You're lost for words, aren't you?" Ferdinand said with a laugh. "Well, I wonder, why not teach me? Mm? Could you? You're teaching that Blackthorn girl are you not? Do you not suppose that you could make a decent sword hand out of me, or is the wood too rotten?"
It was hard to tell whether it was a sincere request, or the man was simply making fun of him. The way that Ferdinand had spoken, it could have been either. Oliver was forced to make the lesser of two evil assumptions, and respond as though he expected it to be true. "…If you've serious intentions at growing stronger, then it would likely be good to know just where you stand currently.
If I were to put it generally, though, perhaps your training was missing a proper test? Maybe you'd find inspiration if you fought something more challenging, without the safety net of a dozen guards around you."
"Goblins, is it?" Ferdinand said, pointing at him with a finger, and grinning with the sort of smile that a man made when he thought he had someone all figured out. "See, they told me this about you too. A veritable monster killer. How amusing! No. I tease you, boy.
If I had any chance with the sword, the Gods would have given me a sign before now. I lay that matter to rest, and pursue other things."
"I see…" Oliver said, unable to keep up with the man. There was nothing more that he could offer in terms of the conversation when Ferdinand seemed to be steering it so wildly. He merely had to sit there and take whatever the young lordling brought up.
"Well, be that as it may, back to the heart of the matter. Solgrim is yours, mud bed that it is. You can do with it what you will. This is merely a formal handing over of my lands to you. In reality, it was already concluded by letter, but tradition demands what it is…" Ferdinand said, yawning into his hand. "Good luck with it, I suppose.
This little house is quaint enough, but I expect you'll find governance of the place as tiresome as I did. It's a sinkhole on the purse."
"I shall do what I can," Oliver said evenly, choosing not to point out his disagreements with what Ferdinand had been saying.
"Very good. I suppose that's all anyone can ask for. I have a meeting with a Lady from the south, if you would excuse my early departure… Unless there's anything more, you want to say to me?" Ferdinand said, already half rising.
Their discussion had only lasted ten minutes at most. Oliver had expected it to go on longer. He'd thought that there must have been some issue or other that they needed to solve, but it seemed that they were merely conducting formalities.
"No, our talk has been most enlightening," Oliver said. "Thank you for your time."
Ferdinand laughed at his transparent remark. "Indeed Patrick, indeed."
The entourage was gone as quickly as they possibly could be. The guardsmen filed out after their Lord, who quickly threw himself back into the carriage, and was heading away from the village with a speed that seemed to suggest that he was trying to escape it.
"That was quick," Oliver murmured, watching him go out of the window.
"Thank the Gods for that," Nila said. "What a pain that man is… No wonder we hardly caught a glance of him all those years – he can barely stand to be here."
"He'd rather send coin and letter by messenger than arrive here himself. Can't say I blame him, considering all the other things that he can be spending his time on," Greeves said. "A nice southern noble Lady… Can't say I ain't a little bit jealous of that. Perhaps if I could marry myself a pretty young noblewoman, I'd finally be able to settle down."
"Do you always have to bring that up?" Nila complained. "Why don't you try and get a woman your own station, before forcing your way into the noble world, onto some poor unsuspecting woman."
"Don't listen to the girl, Boss. You're a handsome man, and you're clever. You deserve to be with the highest sort," Judas said, a little too heatedly.
"Disgusting," Greeves said. "When you're being that nice to me it makes my fuckin' skin crawl. Tone it back a little. I already know both those things to be true, and you can rest assured, by the time our young Ser Patrick here is grasping at proper power, I'll have wormed my way into the noble world, with a wife and a castle to my name."
"Now there's a terrifying prospect," Oliver said, allowing the window to swing back closed. "You as a noble. I think that would eliminate the last of the nobility that the noble class were meant to have."
"It'd be good riddance, then. We can all swim in the mud like pigs together. It was amusing hearing Ferdinand pointedly call this a mudhole, or whatever the fuck the man said. Even for ten minutes, those noble lot can't hide their distaste for the place," Greeves said.
"True enough," Oliver agreed. "That remark didn't exactly please me either."
"But you didn't threaten him," Greeves noted. "No angry eyes, no hands near the sword, trying to scare him off. Are you tamer now? Nah, fuck it. Just before he came, you were already threatening me. That's selective treatment, that is."
"Obviously," Oliver said. "You aren't the son of one of the few pillars I have keeping me alive. Even I can sit quiet for ten minutes if the situation demands it."
"A good thing too… Those guards were looking for any excuse," Nila said, shivering. "They really were looking at you with hatred in their eyes, Oliver. It must be true, what Ferdinand said, about half the country already being against you."
"More than that, girl. But that's the game you play when your 'father' has already made enemies of the High King," Greeves said.