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"Only with the Pandora Goblin," Oliver replied.

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That smile faded just as quickly as it had come. Blackwell coughed uncomfortably, and Oliver saw Lombard\'s eyebrow twitch.

"Apologies, boy. I saw the village. It is unsurprising that you hold a grudge against me," Blackwell said, uncomfortably. Oliver did not know enough about the nobility to know that a Lord of Blackwell\'s position apologising to a mere minor noble such as he, it was a serious breach of etiquette.

But it was Oliver\'s turn to be surprised, as he frowned. "Why would I be angry with you?"

"Well, these were my lands. It is my duty to see that they are protected," Blackwell said. "For allowing the Yarmdon to go free as long as I did, those were my failures."

"You could not have helped it," Oliver said, less respectfully than he had intended to. "The Mage Francis puppeteered their movements beyond which even they knew. He would not have allowed them to be caught, regardless. It was simply our misfortune and weakness that brought us as many losses as we incurred."

Blackwell shared a look with Lombard, to which Lobmard shook his head, seemingly by way of apology. "As I said, he is unaccustomed to our ways. Dominus set him the task of protecting that village, for his apprenticeship. The boy took it more seriously than you would expect. The possibility of reinforcements never seemed to enter his mind."

"A father apprenticing his own son, now there\'s the kind of breach of tradition that one would expect of Dominus," Blackwell said with a chuckle. His smile quickly faded though, as the next thought came to him. "The villagers spoke well of him. A strange thing to see, in his death, that a man who cared so little for people would go out the way he did, as a hero."

He interrupted his own quiet, as he perked up again, to look at Oliver. "And, they speak the same of you, boy. Your name was on their lips – or at least, the one they knew you by. They thought you a peasant, did they not? Cunning, very cunning. A clever way to win their trust.

Very clever."

Oliver said nothing, but merely shared a glance with Lombard, as Blackwell continued to speak.

"I brought the reinforcements myself, you know, and I was bitterly disappointed to see it all over before I\'d even arrived. But then there were stories, such stories! Enough to make even a man of my age feel the fire of passion again. When Lombard sent word that you\'d awoken, I could not abide waiting any longer.

I wished to meet the young man that did battle in my place, and saved his village," Blackwell said.

"I did not save it, in the end. My strength was insufficient. Do—Father had to do it in my place," Oliver pointed out.

"No one begrudges you that. To expect any more of a fifteen-year-old boy would be the heart of folly. At your age, you should be in the Academy, raising your strength. I expect when you start, you\'ll be the envy of your peers – they\'re all hungry for a chance to prove themselves, but let me assure you, none could have done as you did.

You were with Lombard when he slew Gorm, were you not?" Blackwell pressed, unable to reel in his excitement. His eyes practically sparkled with it.

"I was..." Oliver said, uncomfortably. Lombard shrugged at him by way of apology.

"A thorn in my side if ever there was one! There\'s a name that\'s been spoken of bitterly for a time, even in the Royal Court. To have snuffed out such a threat, at some backwater village in the middle of nowhere – I bet not even those needle-fingered strategists in the Capital could have predicted that.

That\'s a Fourth Boundary threat that is— ah, I suppose I should not speak of such things, yet…" he cut himself off.

"The boy is already aware," Lombard said.

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense. There\'s little chance Dominus would have heeded our own traditions. Well, boy, count yourself lucky. Most youths only learn of the Boundaries once they themselves pass through it, as is tradition.

Though, inevitably, we can\'t keep as strong a stranglehold on that information as we would like, so there are still a handful of Academy students aware of it," Blackwell said with a shrug.

"Kursak and Jok," Lombard reminded him, as Blackwell drifted off into thought. With that prompting, the Lord\'s eyes lit up again, and he made a great explanation of realization, before launching into his next set of questions.

"Ah, yes! Yes! There was excitement in those, wasn\'t there? Kursak! There was a name we were hearing often, we had our eye on him, we did. The next coming of Gorm, or so they said.

I hear you slew him early into the battle? Lombard used you in a surprise attack, did he not? Ever the strategist, that one, ever the strategist. Ah! Tell me of it, it must have been glorious!"

"Jok was the one to fear," Oliver said, surprised by the own serious edge in his voice. "He would have overtaken Gorm, I am sure of it."

His sudden contradiction put a halt to the conversation once more. No matter how Oliver tried, it seemed that he was just too odd for the company of nobility. But this time, Lombard rescued his assertion.

"Indeed. I felt Jok break through to the Third Boundary, as Oliver and he did battle at the head of a score of villagers," Lombard said.

And then Blackwell\'s bear-like hands were grasping Oliver\'s shoulders, as his excitement overcame him. "Byyyyy the Gods! It fills me with such passion! I heard that! I heard it! I wanted to hear it from your mouth.

A boy taking command of three hundred villagers, and overpowering near two hundred Yarmdon Elite! That is the sort of thing songs are written about! That\'s the sort of thing that makes me want to write… In fact, I ought to have my clerks make note of it… I should…" He once more drifted off into excited thought.