A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1471 - 1471: A Passing Breeze - Part 2

"They will not be informed until it is dealt with," Blackwell replied.

"Hoh? You mean to keep them in the dark, my Lord? That is rather devious. And when there is such danger afoot too," Karstly tooted and waggled a finger. "I could not call that particularly moral, my Lord."

"Karstly, you will cease with your japes, and you will assist me," Blackwell replied.

"I do not have any duty to act though, my Lord… You are not my Commanding General any longer. I am here merely as an old comrade, intent on enjoying the festivities that have been set up. Or I was. Now I think I might need a few days to recover from the trauma of what was set in front of me," Karstly said.

"You will act regardless," Blackwell said forcefully. "You have been acting regardless anyway – now act with purpose. My son has been murdered. I can only overlook your stupidity to a degree."

"I have provided information that others were unable to," Karstly protested. "Surely I have done more than enough."

"Then have your men do the rest," Blackwell said. "You brought enough of them with you, didn't you? They will secure the perimeter. No assassin will flee across these plains without us spotting them first. And you, Patrick, you will have your horse kept ready, should any decide to flee. I will not permit failure in this. If these assassins are not found before the day is out, my mood will sour."

"Yes, General," Oliver said with a brisk salute. He was as keen to see the problem solved as any. Though he wasn't certain about Karstly. He glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, wondering whether the General would relent.

With the smallest of shrugs, Karstly sighed. "You ask so much of me, Commanding General. But I suppose I can help, in light of the tragedy that has occurred. May the young man rest in peace."

"Spare me your empty sympathies," Blackwell said. "You will have command of half of the Blackwell guardsmen. Use them to carry out your duty. Not a single rat shall slip through, do you understand, General Karstly?"

"Well, I would be lying if I said I did, my Lord. I do not think I have grown close enough to any creature to feel the grief that you are no doubt experiencing. But rest assured, I have agreed to this task of yours. It will be done well. My man Samuel will see to that," Karstly said.

"I would ask that you see to it yourself," Blackwell replied.

"…I suppose I can at least consider that. It does seem that you've another problem that you ought to see to yourself, though," Karstly said, pointing a finger behind him, as a battered-looking group lumbered into view, led by a particular unathletic looking middle-aged nobleman, that Oliver recognized to be one of Ferdinand's retainers.

"Well?" Lord Blackwell said to them.

The lead man, Thomas, shook his sweat covered head. "We've been unable… to find… anything… my Lord."

"You have nothing for me then?" Blackwell said, disgusted. "You fail in your duty to see your Lord protected, and then you dare return to me, without even a scrap to offer up? Has there ever been a set of creatures lower in competence than the five of you?"

They could do nothing but hang their heads in shame, when confronted as such. None of them had the power to bring their Lord back from the dead. Their failure as retainers was a fact that they'd have to live with for the rest of their lives.

"No words for me? You truly have nothing to offer then," Blackwell said. "What my son saw in the lot of you, I will never understand. When he needed you most, you were all nowhere to be seen. The youngest of you, in Ser Torin, was closest, and even he did not have what it took to fulfil his duty to his Lord. I am sure you are all quite eager, as honourable as you have shown yourselves to be, to take your lives, and follow your Lord to the grave. But before I allow that of you, I will give you one last task. You are to find your Lord's killer, and bring him to justice. Torin has a description of him. You will use that to identify him, and you will kill him on sight."

Oliver noticed the lot of them stiffen, as soon as Blackwell mentioned their suicides, as if it was the natural course of action. Naturally, none could even hope to offer a single word of protest, given their failings. With such a blow to their honour, it seemed a choice between Lord Blackwell having them executed, or them taking matters into their own hands, and taking their lives themselves. Whatever the case, for as long as Lord Blackwell saw them as lowly enough that he wished them dead, they would have no chance of wriggling out of it.

"R-rest assured, Lord Blackwell, the man will be brought to justice," Thomas declared., somehow managing to sound all the more unreliable for his declaration.

Blackwell stared him down for what must have been as long as ten seconds. However long it was, it was certainly long enough to seize the last remnants of Thomas' soul from his body. He was stood there quivering, by the time Blackwell turned his attention to Oliver.

"Sort it, Patrick. Use this lot, if you wish to – though I cannot see what you would want of them," Blackwell said. "I will tend to matters on my end. You have until sundown. My men will take care of my son – you do your job."

The General strode away briskly, with his hands clamped behind his back, and his boots falling heavily on the ground. That great presence that he had swirled around him even more than usual that day. It was a crushing, stifling thing. An ordinary man could hardly bear it, though the retainers that walked behind their Lord showed no signs of discomfort.

"I will leave you and do my little duty as well," Karstly said with a yawn. "What a bother today has turned out to be, eh? I would have rathered that this fool didn't get himself killed, but I suppose we can't always get what we want."

"He acted for a reason, you yourself said so," Oliver said. "I would not call a man, acting with the best intentions, a fool."