He was not want to see it then, but with the swiftness of his movements, and the cut of his clothes and hair, at that moment, he looked very much the son of a noble.
He found the hallway to be quiet as he stepped out into it. He looked left. It continued on for a long way down, with many rows of doors, and many torches burned. He assumed they were other rooms in which the nobility would be staying.
He looked to the right. There were fewer doors there, and an open archway stood in the wall on the left, inviting someone to walk through it. He recalled that he'd been led through there, as the earlier woman had brought him in.
Just beyond the archway, at the bottom of the corridor, there were a set of spiral stairs. It went both up, and down. Oliver noted all these astutely, and put his hands behind his back, as he affected a gait that he assumed would be more suited to a noble.
He decided to head back through the archway in which the woman had led him. The left end of the hallway didn't look particularly interesting. It was either the archway, or the stairs. He figured familiar ground was likely to be more interesting.
He noted torches on the walls as he walked. Windows still allowed light to stream through, but he assumed in the evening that they would be lit.
He noted the stone floor too, and how the heels of his boots clacked against it as he walked. It was all new to him. It was a challenge to decide what to focus on, and what was a relevant bit of information.
Through the archway he went, into a hall that he recognized. This too seemed surprisingly empty. It seemed more like a conjunction connecting different parts of the building than it was a place in itself.
Oliver had been set to merely stroll by without a word, but the bow made him pause. It was a stiff, formal bow, forty-five degrees at the waist.
He looked down at them, as they bowed towards him. He could even see a droplet of sweat run down the forehead of one of them, as it licked its way away from his black curls.
Oliver broke a second-long silence. "Sorry – why are you bowing to me?"
One of them looked up sharply, apparently startled by the question. Despite the fact that they were obviously older than him, for some reason they were forcing themselves to act completely subserviently.
The two shared a look, apparently unsure if there was a trick in the question.
"Etiquette, ser, I expect..?" Came the hesitant reply of one of them. This one had dark blonde hair that was approaching brown. Oliver noted him to be the one that had jabbed the other with the elbow.
"Etiquette? I am not a Lord, or the like. There is no need for other nobles to bow to me, is there?" Oliver asked, cocking his head to the side. It was a genuine question. He knew absolutely nothing of noble society.
Worse than that, he wasn't even particularly well-versed in how upper-class peasants were expected to treat each other. He'd always completely failed in his interactions with Greeves. He'd treated them like equals, even before he had the position to believe that. In hindsight, it had turned out fine, but Dominus had pointed out more than once how his incompetence had left him weak.
He didn't wish to remain weak much longer. To survive as a noble, he knew, he would have to learn quickly. Perhaps quicker than he had even with the sword. It was a dangerous knife edge that Dominus had placed them on – him, Lombard, and Blackwell. None of them openly expressed just how dire the consequences would be if Oliver's true birth were discovered, but Oliver himself had not forgotten.