A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1428 - 1428: The Tournament - Part 6

He let his hand rest on his sword as he looked them down, heaving a sigh, as if irritated with the lot of them. He tapped his finger against its hilt lazily, playing up his arrogance to a degree that he himself found brutal, as an observer trapped inside his own body.

He gave Verdant a look, and Verdant added to the performance, by raising his hand for silence on the behalf of his Lord. There was a certain amount of regalness to it. The overwhelming confidence was a blanket of pressure that the crowd found themselves unable to resist. The young Captain that had organized it all expected silence, and his overwhelming confidence made it clear that it would happen sooner or later. They had no grounds to doubt his assumption, and like a wave, silence descended.

Naturally, given that the regalness was all an act, Oliver could not take the situation too seriously. Beyond embarrassment, he had no emotions or it. He stood there, in the centre of that platform that had been erected from him, and he stared down the crowd like a General might stare down an army.

As aggressively pompous as his retainers had dressed him and had him act, he knew that all the pomposity of the event could not be attributed to the Patrick's alone. Lord Blackwell stood, dignified, watching the proceedings, and it was his name, even more so than Oliver's that had seen to it that the event had such a large audience in attendance.

Nevertheless, Ingolsol continued to purr his glee. Every step of kingliness that Oliver took, and every royal gesture that he attempted to deliver, only pleased the Dark God more. That was, until Claudia gave a soft giggle of amusement. High and sweet. And the Dark God found his silence so swiftly that one could almost hear the window echoing through whatever valley it was that he stood in.

Oliver had no time to reflect on the strangeness of the interaction between his Fragments. He'd retained his silence for far too long already, as he'd been told to. He'd been informed that he ought to make the crowd wait. For in this tournament, his position could not have been higher as the organizer. It was his right to take certain liberties, and he was, somewhat unintentionally, ensuring that they had been taken.

"I thank you for your coming," he said, beginning simply, his voice echoing out over the plains, with more initial force than Oliver had intended. Though he was putting on an act, he found the muscles of his throat had tightened involuntarily, and he was almost shouting in the beginning of his speech. "And while I give my thanks, I extend them too towards Lord Blackwell for endeavouring to make it possible. I hope that as you are enjoying the thrills of the tournament, you will not forget the Lord Blackwell that ensured that they were put on for you."

"I imagine your reasons for travelling here are all very different. But I will not inquire after them. Whether you come only to watch, or whether you have come to compete, you are welcome," Oliver said. "These are sacred plains to we people of Solgrim. This is where Dominus Patrick gave his life in the village's defence. I would ask you warriors who would fight on the same field as he, and who attempt to water it with blood, to do so with the knowledge that the greatest swordsman in our kingdom's history is watching you. Mediocrity, in this event, will not be tolerated."

He dared quickly and boldly to put the name of Dominus Patrick out there. To sing it to the crowd, and let them know half the reason that he had chosen to have the tournament held in the first place. More people needed to know of the great man's deeds. They needed not to listen to the High King's eternal slander. Even if it was forceful, and it was obvious to any discerning eyes what he was doing, Oliver saw no reason to stop.

"By Dominus Patrick's hand, this village was transformed from the remote settlement that it once was, subsisting on shepherds and hunting, into a martial structure. Here, the men that gather do so in the pursuit of further strength on the battlefield. We carry forward Dominus Patrick's legacy, and we pursue martial might to the highest degree, in order to better serve our country."

"While you stand here," Oliver continued, putting more force into his voice. "I would ask the same from you. A tournament, a festival, this no doubt has been called many things. But with violence so certain in the prospects of the future of Stormfront, as it always no doubt shall be, given the military nation that we are, I would ask that you cast aside such soft-hearted suppositions. When you draw your swords today, and you take to your Battle boards, or gather your bows, to show off your might in your various disciplines, I would ask you to do so with the desperateness of men who have their lives on the line. For, without such intensity, I fear our Goddess Claudia would never reward our efforts here on this day, or the days that follow. I am of the belief that, even if it only be from one individual, we who gather here to bear witness, will bear witness to a new kind of greatness. We will see limits cast aside, and great men rose up. That is the effect of these lands, and Dominus Patrick's legacy."

"With that in mind, I will now tell you the rules of the melee, and we will see the first battle of this tournament opened," Oliver said.

He could find himself almost feeling the rhythm of the crowd's emotions. Not to the degree that he could with his men, but almost. He felt as if he managed to cough a few sparks of fire out of them, when he'd raised his voice, and increased his intensity, letting just the smallest amount of his passion slip through. But naturally, it was not as if he could stir them in one go. These were the masses of the kingdom. They weren't Patrick men. They couldn't quite feel what he felt, but some did. Oliver could see Karstly nodding lightly, with amusement written all over his face. Lord Blackwell, for however grim he might have looked, seemed almost approving. The other Generals gathered, and fighting men too, even if they didn't all express outright agreement, they at least didn't seem to disapprove of the noble principle.

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