A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Unlike the rest of them, Blackthorn hadn't come dressed from head to toe in armour. For her, what armour she wore was a decision she needed to make carefully, for even a slight decrease in her speed could have potentially fatal consequences in combat.

As of yet, she'd been unable to properly decide, and had taken to imitating Oliver's own lack of thought in that area, merely dressing as if she was to go on a hunt.

"Well, I didn't say she couldn't defeat it, I just wanted to see her try…" Oliver said, once she was already far enough gone that she couldn't hear. In response to that admission, two sets of rather venomous glares were sent boring into the side of his face. Had there not been such a difference in rank between the two retainers, they likely would have slapped him.

"She's not even through the Second Boundary yet," Verdant mused. "I'm intrigued by your test, my Lord."
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"As am I," Oliver said. "The girl's always had great potential. It's her lack of experience that's held her back. I feel as if she's hovering right on the Boundary's edge, but I have no way of properly knowing how to push her through. I figure an encounter with a monster as bastardly vicious as a Hobgoblin might help in that regard…"

His words were dampened by the first exchange of woman against monster, as the Hobgoblin's wood club clipped the end of Blackthorn's rapier, and sent her weapon flying far out of her hand.

"I suppose I had better stand closer," Oliver said, trying to keep the alarm that he felt hidden, as he drew his sword, and dashed across the field.

Merely throughout the course of their short conversation, before the battle had even really started, it seemed as if it was over. One bad exchange had given them that result. Blackthorn had made the mistake of attempting to redirect the Hobgoblin's swinging club, and had grossly underestimated the force that such a creature could produce. She was paying for that now.

The Hobgoblin came rushing after her before she could even think of retrieving her sword, forcing her instead in the opposite direction, turning this into some kind of beastly chase.

To her credit, Blackthorn managed to keep her composure, even without a weapon in hand. She hadn't turned her back on the creature entirely, and instead worked to weave up and down out of the way of the weapon's path, never letting it get too close now that she knew just how much force it was carrying.

Dodging three strikes in a row, Oliver was forced to remark on her movement. She was good. Almost unfairly so. The he of a few months ago had struggled to match the Hobgoblin's speed, even after passing through the Second Boundary, and yet here Blackthorn was just barely keeping up with it without a Blessing of her own.

Put in those terms, it was remarkable. Though Oliver didn't know just how far he could use his own progress as a marker. After all, with Ingolsol's curse, it had taken Claudia's Blessing before he was even able to make the most minimal of progress.

It was only after several months that he'd reached the level of strength that a true Second Boundary wielder ought to have been at – and then exceeded it, empowered by the oddity of the two Blessings that he possessed.

The wooden club came close again, close enough to displace Blackthorn's shining black braids and she dodged out of the way and her hair struggled to keep up behind her.

Even in the deep snow, her footwork was good, and there was a focus and intensity to her eyes that didn't seem to recognize the situation of extreme peril that she was in.

She spun out of the way again, dashing behind the Hobgoblin, forcing it to switch side. Now, her rapier was behind her, sticking out of the snow a few steps away. Still, she didn't beeline towards it. She approached the battle with a calmness that suggested she'd been fighting for thousands of years.

The Hobgoblin didn't seem to realize what she was aiming for. She betrayed no hint of her intention. Once more, it charged at her with a club, and she just happened to dodge in the direction that the sword was in, using the brief opening to plunge her hand into the snow, and pull the rapier out.

"Wow…" Oliver murmured involuntarily, genuinely impressed. He'd rushed over, thinking the battle to be over the second she'd been disarmed, but somehow she'd been able to reposition herself without taking any damage in the meantime.

The others caught up with him. This time, Amelia did grab his arm as she came closer, holding it with a grip that was unbecoming of someone so beneath him socially.

He turned to admonish her, but apparently, the girl herself didn't even realize what she was doing. Her eyes were filled with worry, and she'd grabbed onto whatever was nearest to her in an attempt to relieve some amount of stress.

Even though she was likely squeezing his forearm as hard as her little hands could, there was no pain. He sighed and caught the attention of Pauline beside her, motioning with his head to the hand that was clutching his arm. Pauline's face turned to red with such a suddenness that she seemed as if she might explode.

"Amelia!" She squeaked, horrified, prying her hand away.

"Huh? What?" Amelia said, feeling her friend grasping her hand. Only then, apparently, did she realize what she'd done, and she too went a shade of dark red, a horrified expression on her face. It wasn't embarrassment, it was terror. There was no innocent emotion there. To harm a noble as a Serving Class girl, even in jest, that was a grave offence.

Ingolsol demanded compensation for her disrespect.

"A perfect opportunity presents itself to correct the behaviour of a misbehaving pup," Ingolsol growled. "I won't have the body that I inhabit so thoroughly disrespected. These dogs should be kneeling."