A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I know so," Greeves said, lounging back. It was just Greeves today. Judas was busy seeing to matters on his Boss' behalf, and Oliver had put his other retainers to work as well. He didn't wish to waste them on guard duty when it was only the likes of Greeves that he shared a room with – there was no need to keep up appearances before such a man. "You've a good few soldiers as well.

You'll want an armoursmith and a weaponsmith – someone to tend to their maintenance as part of the barracks."

"You think?" Oliver said. "We've been getting by before. What are you planning, just to get in two new recently passed apprentice smiths? That should tide us over."

"We managed before because I would buy the weapons new, for cheap," Greeves said. "That ain't going to fly for much longer. You're going to want to be able to forge your own steel and keep an armoury well stored. We've only been going to the smith to have steel mended when it made sense to get it mended, otherwise, we'd just spent the coin on getting something cheap and new."

"Having an armoursmith and a weaponsmith, though, that's bound to get expensive," Oliver said.

"Not at all. You pay em' a wage. Doesn't matter how much they forge, the wage will stay the same," Greeves said. "If you're wanting this stronghold that yer dreaming about, you want that level of self-sustain at least. That's if you're serious about wanting to be able to last a siege for a full month."

"I am," Oliver said. "How are our grain stores for that?"

"They'll last, as they are," Greeves said. "A month should be possible. The taxes that the new merchants bring in are keeping us rich. You want to continue to build with them while they last, rather than wasting it squirrelling away too much wealth."

"The taxes are for the villagers," Oliver replied. "I refuse to use them for personal gain."

"Yea, you don't understand, boy. We've told you it a thousand times. Your success is the success of the village," Greeves said.

Jorah's words returned to Oliver unbidden. 'You are the beating heart of this village,' he had said. It was an immensely strange position to be in.

"Don't be pulling a face thinking about the complicated," Greeves said, pouring himself a drink. "That's the job for the rest of us. That's the sort of thing that we can do. You should be focusing your energy on doing what we can't. That's just frickin sensible business management, ain't it?" He downed his glass of drink in one go as if to reward himself.

As always, Greeves made much practical sense, to the point of being callus.

"Three years, Greeves," Oliver noted, as he watched the man pour himself another glass of drink. "If it lasts that long, will you be alright?"

"I doubt it will last three years," Greeves said. "Though it ain't like I know anything of war. Three years? Aye, why wouldn't I last? I've survived for long enough already."

"You'll be carrying extra burden then, and there'll be fewer people to help you than there have been," Oliver said.

"You think I need help? What, these young pups getting under my feet? Nah. The loss will be the loss of you. The villagers won't be as productive, I reckon, but it is what it is. I'll manage it," Greeves said.

Once more, he downed his glass of drink in one swift gulp, and reached to pour himself another one.

"Easy, Greeves," Oliver said. "It's barely midday. If this is how you are now, how are you going to be when it gets harder?"

"Piss off," Greeves snorted. "I don't need you worrying about me. You've got bigger problems. You'd better secure these achievements that you've talked of. You've got momentum now. You've been winning, and you've talked from your winnings.

They're going to hold you to it now. They're going to pressure you to keep winning. When the day comes that you stop, they'll turn on you."

Oliver shrugged. "I do not plan on being defeated, but if that day comes, I shall deal with it."

"Aye, and I plan to do the same," Greeves said. "So don't you be looking at me worried. I'm steady. This work is easy enough for me."

"Loriel—" Oliver began.

"Don't," Greeves cut him off, his voice choked. "Don't bring her name up. Not now. You don't need to see weakness, you need to inspire strength. You'll be leaving the day after tomorrow – you're going to speak with the villagers, aren't you?"

"I planned to speak to you first, Greeves," Oliver said. "Nila will be in charge of the village, but we both know that what you do shall be the more… difficult task. She's good with people, and they'll respond to her – but it's you that truly knows what makes this place run."

"I do, and I've said that I'll be fine," Greeves said, irritated.

"You've done good, Greeves," Oliver told him. "These last few years, I can say for a certainty that you've done good. You've changed lives for the better. The villagers are far more secure now, and it's thanks to you in no small part. You make most of this happen."

"I wouldn't do it, if there wasn't incentive," Greeves said. "I'm richer than I've ever been. My positioning with you benefits me, ain't you know that? Spare me your praise."

"You've made decisions that could have benefitted you more," Oliver said, "but you held back for the sake of the people. I have noted that. You're making efforts to change."

"I'm not trying to change anything," Greeves said, looking away. "I'm the same as I was, and I'll continue to be. I'm a ruthless bastard, and if you ever forget that, there might be a knife to your throat."

Even if Oliver knew that the warning was hardly a threat, his eyes glowed like an angry wolf. Both he and Ingolsol could hardly tolerate a nibbling bite. "If there ever came that day, you know how it would end."