A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1402 - 1402: Childish - Part 8

"W-well, no doubt that would be pleased of it," Blackwell said. "But you can hardly allow such ancient treasures to be touched by the hands of normal folk."

"They would be the victors," Oliver said. "Surely they're deserving."

"And what might they be the victor in?" Blackwell said. "You have said a tournament, but you have not said what categories and the like you intend to host."

"I thought it to be impertinent to go that far without securing your permission," Oliver said.

"Humour me for a second, then. Assuming I gave my permission, what categories might there be?" Blackwell said.

"Different categories for different weapons, I think," Oliver said. "Each category could possibly begin with a full scale melee, to decide the entrants for the tournaments itself. That seems like a fair way of allowing for a great number of entrants."

Blackwell nodded. "There might be thousands of soldiers, though," he said. "How will you make room for them all?"

"We will have to hold multiple melees, I suppose," Oliver said. "I would like to allow the peasants to have a chance of entering as well. It would please me to see the tournament seedings to be decided purely on competence, rather than status."

"As true to the tales told about you as ever," Blackwell said, waving a hand. Oliver had the distinct feeling that, the more he was talking, the less he was interesting the General. He was sure, just a few moments before, he'd held his attention entirely, and now that attention was wandering.

"Is that it? Just a melee for the lessers, and some duels to round the tournament off?" Blackwell said. "And then you'll be giving the victors a chance to read those books of yours? Seems a bit too basic to me, Ser Patrick. Anyone of note, in the higher Boundaries, will take this tournament by storm. I assume you have not invited General Karstly, given your tenseness with the man of late, but let us say that a man of Karstly's temperament were to come – he would throw himself into the ranks of the masses, and ruin the format of your tournament with his strength, just for his own amusement. He would likely see it all ended just in the melee."

"No, I have invited General Karstly, naturally," Oliver said.

That provoked two raised eyebrows from Blackwell, rather than just one.

"He was the second letter I sent, after yours," Oliver said.

"…I had thought you had discord with the man," Blackwell said.

"I had discord with the man's methods, and yours, General," Oliver said. "But that does not mean that I dismiss your worth as Generals, or what you achieved on the campaign. I have much to learn from the two of you. And Karstly, in large part, had been a good superior of mine for the majority of the campaign."

"But what he did still trouble you," Blackwell noted, eyeing him carefully. "I suppose you have been reading the works of the First King, after all, if you are reevaluating yourself to that degree. Very well, I will give you a degree of acknowledgement for that. But what is the purpose in inviting the man? Do you think Karstly would be satisfied, just in seeing his men compete?"

"Well, I wished for something a little greedier in that regard," Oliver said. "This is purely for my own sake, but I had hoped to witness some competitions exclusively between the Generals."

"Oh?" General Blackwell said. He could feel the entirety of Lord Blackwell's attention being fixed firmly on him once again.

"I don't know if any Generals would lower themselves to it though…" Oliver shrugged. "They seem too high standing men to take part in such lowly competitions."

"Don't shade your intentions with the curtain of formalities," Blackwell said. "Speak. You want my permission, do you not? Tell me what it is you intend."

"I'd hoped to see a competition on the Battle board," Oliver said. "I'd supposed that, perhaps the victor, or even the top three finishers, might wish to read the works of the First King, written in his own hand."

"A normal Battle Board, or a Command Battle Board?" General Blackwell asked with the utmost seriousness.

"…I wonder if it would not be better to stage a mock battle, if we were to use a Command Battle Board? It would make for quite the spectacle," Oliver said.

"Hoho, this is growing more outlandish by the second, Ser Patrick," Blackwell said, but there was finally a smile on his face. "What would that mock battle entail?"

"Wooden weapons, I'd say, a hundred men on each side…" Oliver said. "I suppose the victor is whoever breaks the other side first?"

"Each General would likely need to bring two hundred men, to account for injuries then," Lord Blackwell noted. "The equipment would have to be regulated… else someone might bring steel plate to fight against wooden weapons with, and the spectacle would be no more than seeing wood play a steel drum."

"Do you suppose that it might be reaching too far?" Oliver said. "Perhaps with that, we'd have three competitions for the Generals. A Battle board, a duel with any weapon, and then the mock battle themselves? It feels like it all might take a bit too long."

"Not at all. It would be pointless without that," General Blackwell said, nodding deeply. "This is a good place to do it. I saw your statue of Dominus on the way in, Ser Patrick. A good stone mason's work, that is, though I would have it three times the size. And the reward is fitting, the works of the First King. There is much martial to be gained in this vicinity."

"Well, the reading of the works of the First King - I would keep them in my possession, if at all possible, and make up for the grand prize with some gold, from the pot that we build with all the different entrance fees we collect," Oliver said.

"Naturally. The works of the First King should be kept in proximity with Ernest," Blackwell said.

'And for what reason might that be?' Oliver thought to himself, when the General saw no reason to elaborate. It was becoming quite clear to Oliver by now, that the General's exclusive motivation in all this was seeing those original works of the First King read.