A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1451 - 1451: Furthering Competition - Part 11

"And perhaps, indeed, this is only the first round of the competition, and we ought to be expecting far more out of him," Karstly added. "Either way, I'm glad for the boy. It would have been a shame to see someone as interesting as him limited. Now, I don't suppose you would have any objections to seeing him raised to the rank of Colonel?"

Blackwell grunted. "Not yet. He's proved he can do it on a Battle board, but do you think he could emulate that style of leadership with his own men? He'd never dare use them so recklessly."

"Oh, quite," Karstly said, his eyebrow twitching. "I had forgotten that limitation as well. Mmm. Well, there is work to be done on him, but at least we can say quite loudly that he is not so much a lost cause as we feared him to be."

"Indeed," Blackwell said, grunting his agreement. "Indeed. I am sure Volguard over there will have an inclination of what he saw. He'll be able to nurture what the Patrick boy has hit upon. We should see him grow a fair deal yet, I do suppose."

Across the way, Volguard and Skullic had been watching the game unfold with even more seriousness than the rest of them. Now they were sharing hushed conversation, with the gangly Professor making excited flourishes with his arms, as he attempted to explain something to the younger General, whilst Skullic nodded now and again, with a hand upon his chin.

Oliver had to contain his desire to celebrate almost violently. At least, he attempted to hold it in honourably, long enough that he could meet Colonel Bookthorne in the centre of the board.

"Impressive," the Colonel said bluntly. "This game has given me much to reflect on."

"Thank you, Colonel," Oliver said as they shook hands.

"Luck to you in the matches to come," the Colonel said finally, before spinning on his heel, and marching away. He managed to contain it well enough behind his noble mask, but Oliver could well tell the signs of someone that was oozing with frustration. He knew too very well that the frustrated party could have been him, had things not gone differently.

Before he could ponder the man any further, he heard the incoming of a light patter of speedy steps, as Nila rushed into the arena to congratulate him, with Oliver's retainers, from Verdant, to Blackthorn, to Firyr, running behind him.

"Oliverrrr! That was incredible!" Nila said, her eyes aglow. "Really, really!"

"That practice wasn't for nothing," Oliver said firmly. That was what he'd wished to demonstrate more than anything else. Those long hours that he'd spent in the evening, enjoying Nila's company, he wanted to prove to the part of himself that nagged him, saying that he ought to suffer for his progress, that such things could be achieved by other means.

"Brilliant, my Lord," Verdant said. "That was as emphatic an opening round as one could expect. One might assume that your grasp of strategy extends so far beyond your competition, that you can best them, even with three pieces down."

"We both know that not to be true," Oliver said. "The sacrifice of the pieces was instrumental in creating my victory. I could not have done it any other way."

"That was crazyyyy, Captain!" Firyr said, jumping up and down. "I don't really get it, but you just let a handful of pieces go to the chopper, didn't you? So you could get your victory later on. That's a good idea, that is. We should do that in our next battle. They'll never expect it."

"I'd rather we didn't…" Oliver said with a strained expression.

"Why not?" Blackthorn said, joining in. "You can afford to treat us lightly. We'd survive it."

"Don't encourage me towards that, Lasha," Oliver said. "That's not the sort of General that I wish to become."

"Choosy," a voice interrupted, and Oliver turned to see Skullic. "Most men would be glad to become a General at all, but you're daring to reject the path that was presented to you?"

"I do not find it morally agreeable to treat the lives of my men so lightly," Oliver said.

"No?" Skullic said. "Even now that you begin to understand the necessity it has for your victory? Should you as a General not orient yourself towards victory, above all else? Is that not the reason the men serve you? If they wanted someone to merely look after them, all our Generals would be our mothers."

"…Strategically, it might be sound," Oliver agreed. "But I could not imagine asking someone to willingly die for the cause of my plans."

"It would unfold differently than that," Skullic said. "You wouldn't ask them to die. You'd only ask them to attack recklessly. It is not the death that forms the foundation for future strategy, it is the risk that you willingly undertake. Besides, you've read the First Kings works. This style that you've found for yourself, it's not too dissimilar to his. I don't suppose you took inspiration?"

"I might have," Oliver admitted, though he didn't think he'd done so consciously. The foundation for the direction that he'd chosen, at the heart of it, was simply teasing Nila.

"It was a good showing, Ser Patrick," Volguard told Oliver, once Skullic had said his piece. "There was far more freedom to your battlefield choices. Naturally, I did not overlook your abandoning of a good number of principles, but I do suppose that, when one begins any sort of new venture, they must do so with the destruction of something old. In time, and with practice, I think we shall be able to remedy it into a more complete tool, something that doesn't expose itself to as many weaknesses."

"I will look for your guidance in that then, Professor," Oliver said, dipping his head. "If you see strength in it, then that offers me a good deal of reassurance. My strategy has been stagnant for far, far too long. If this is the path available to me, then I will seize it with both hands."