A madness that ought not to have been allowed to be. Years of scheming, corruption, and unpredictability.
As they'd passed through the various hamlets on the way here, not a single villager had reacted upon catching sight of his face. It was as one would expect things to be. Outside of the noble circle, outside of the immediate vicinity of the Academy, few knew who Oliver Patrick was. That too seemed to be true for the soldiery. They'd likely heard a tale or two in passing, but they had nothing to corroborate those tales, not like the nobility did.
So, he was being treated as though his presence was more an inconvenience than an asset. Again, he didn't need to be some wisened general to get a sense for that. It wasn't distaste that he was met with from these soldiers, it was just general irritation. They were Serving-Class men empowered to act independently by their General and now they had a noble come walking in again, about to disturb whatever rhythms they'd already set up.
Oliver sighed. Piercing any new social circle seemed to be the most difficult of endeavours.