A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1502 - 1502: The Cries for War - Part 1

"I believe I can do what is necessary," Oliver said. "I believe there is still more room for progress yet."

"Ah…" Asabel's eyes widened. "Progress. That is whatever haunts you. Your constant want for strength. Your greed eats you alive. There it is – that look in your eye. That little smile, so full of confidence, that all my retainers hate. You say that every logical path points to impossibility, but you do not believe in the confines of logic, do you, Oliver Patrick? You believe in far stranger things – and you believe this strangeness is to your advantage."

"Once more, you see me as I am," Oliver said, his eyes twinkling with gold and purple.

The night had passed with a nervous tension. The attendants of the tournament were well aware that something was going on, but they were not altogether sure what that something was. Rumours of murders and fires had spread. The fires, at least, were impossible to deny. Nearly half the attendants had borne witness to the plumes of smoke that had come rising up into the air with a thickness that should not have been allowed from any controlled fire.

It was more than clear something was afoot. Some even spoke rumours that a man of high ranking, had been assassinated. Noblemen were sent to ask questions of Lord Blackwell, and Ser Patrick, and others still went looking for Lord Ferdinand, supposing that he had an even more direct involvement in the tournament than his father.

These men all came back empty-handed, with no news to give their fellow men, who were just as full of questions as they. Then there was raised the point – the exceedingly obvious one – that perhaps, it wasn't safe for them to remain after all. If the organizers of the events could not see fit to send out an announcement, informing them of what had been going on, how could they trust that such men had their best interests at heart? They weren't being treated with the honour that was due to the nobility, or so it was said.

When dawn broke, and the light and cold late autumn drizzle began to fall, more than a few noblemen opted to simply stay by the doors of their tents, with only a head in the outside world, to observe the happenings of what was going on around them. They dared not make a move quite yet, without further certainty. Attendants and servants were sent to investigate whatever it was that was to be going on.

And they all came back, with a single, rather stunned report. Queen Asabel was seen wandering, quite blatantly, with a dyed red waxed coat draped over her shoulders, and a small smattering of guards around her, as if it was the most natural and most casual thing in the world. It was enough to make uneasy men feel foolish. If the Queen – and the high-ranking, well-informed Lords that served her – thought she was safe enough to be presenting herself so openly, then who were they, mere minor nobility, to fear for themselves?

There was talk too of a change in the tournament plans. Another rumour that had sprung out of the night. Apparently, with the coming rain, and the changes to the muddiness of the field, the tournaments were all set to be accelerated. Most events had made it past the initial stages of selection anyway, and into the final rounds, but there had seemed as if there were at least a few days more of competition to be had. Now, it was said that the organizers aimed to get through it all in a single day.

For whatever reason, without announcement, there was the dull sensation that the dreary day of rain before them would be the final day of the tournament. That was another bit of news, set to slow any nobleman down that might have been swift in his getaway. For he had only needed to wait another day, and the tournament would be done anyway, without him having missed a single thing from it.

"Issue an official declaration," Blackwell had said, in the pre-dawn, before the light had yet broken. "Tell them that there will be changes to the tournament proceedings, and the contestants. Make efforts with the men that we are removing to placate them, but be forceful where it is necessary."

"As you say, my Lord," Willem had responded.

It had taken Willem, and Lord Blackwell's other retainers, a good course of a few hours to go from tent to tent and speak the whisperings in the right man's ears, to change the tournament's final pairings according to Lord Blackwell's plans.

Oliver was only informed once such a plan was already well set in motion, to the point of being unstoppable, and it was Willem once more – as Blackwell had sent him for the task – who informed him.

"I see your distaste, General Patrick," Willem said respectfully, with a wry smile still as he used the strange title. "But Lord Blackwell has told me to remind you, if you were to protest, that this tournament has ceased to be an event of festivity. It is now a tool to further our war efforts. We must squeeze all we can out of it, before the opportunity disappears, and we are well committed to what is in front of us."

"Is this your Lord's reward for General Patrick's success in his mission?" Verdant asked icily. "We received no response from the man, when we sent him the good news. No visitors in the night. Now he comes today, with a plan that borders on insult. Is Lord Blackwell intent on isolating his allies?"

"I assure you, my Lord has no such intentions," Willem said. "He sent me too, to offer you congratulations for General Patrick's accomplishment. However, he also stated, that it was to be expected, and that he expects too that you will be speaking to General Skullic, and the Ministers Yoreholder and Hod, as well as Professor Volguard. He wishes for you to secure every ally that you can. He points to the fact that, as precarious as our situation is, that is of the utmost necessity. Each of us must do all we can, to the point of recklessness, and even that will not be enough. I can admit my own Lord's callousness of approach, but Lord Idris, I do assure you, that he means no disrespect by it. Quite the opposite. Lord Blackwell has ever given his General's free rein. He gives them a mission to accomplish, and allows them to do through it what they will."