A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1523 - 1523: A Tiger - Part 2

The lands of the Verna and the Syndrans would not have been receptive to such a creature. The way Oliver swaggered around now, and he gave his orders to Verdant, as if he were in charge of all the thousands that stood before him, and all the great men amongst them, that would have been received with such a measure of disgust, that it would have crushed his life as a noble likely forever. They knew to fear such dangerous men in such places.

But the Stormfront longed for it.

'I wonder if he can feel it…' Hod wondered to himself. The crowd, their hearts moved like outstretched hands, reaching for what Oliver provided. He had sung a song, of a rhythm that they recognized – that their ancestors recognized, and in hearing it, they went quiet, begging for him to speak more to them.

'This is the moment,' Hod thought to himself. With all the fuel that had been gathered, all the tensions that had been arisen, all the events that had been overcome, both in the last day, and in all the months and years leading up to it, Hod could feel with a strong certain that, if one had the will, and the gumption to, this was a moment that could bind around a single individual, and cause a fire.

He had his doubts. He had to wonder if perhaps it was not too soon for Oliver Patrick. He remembered what he'd seen of him at the Academy, and he had to say, though full of potential, he'd known that the young man was still far too lacking in maturity to do all that Hod expected of him.

Even now, he held to such a thing. But the moment would not wait for a man. 'The moment is presented now. He is not enough for it… But can he make use of it regardless?'

The sheer gravity of the situation willed Oliver Patrick to talk, to voice that which they all wished to hear. Even those that did not know about the coming war could sense with a great sense of anticipation that something alarming was in the air. They did not know the purpose of his speech, they did not know quite what it would contain, and yet the sheer significance that they were inclined to expert could point to no other answer in their hearts than that of war. Nothing else could possibly match its scale.

To have all their attention as he did, Oliver Patrick was forced to speak of a matter of such scale. And yet, he did not. "It would seem, the issues that we were having with stray dogs has been solved," Oliver noted. "In wind like this, even the most furry amongst us are disinclined to be doing much work."

Those were certainly not the words that the people had expected to hear, but Oliver went on, quite casually, as if he were talking to a friend, rather than a whole crowd of people. "I didn't find them to be terribly unpleasant, I must admit. For all the trouble that they caused, I do find dogs to be enjoyable little creatures. Though I suppose you gentlemen who have had yours stores raided would very much disagree with me on that. Alas, it would seem there are two edges to that sword. I do expect that we will see them back."

"Hm… I do wonder, with the tournament's conclusion, will we see those dogs stay in Solgrim? Ah, but that is a problem for us who remain, rather than you who will go," Oliver said, smiling all the while.

It was the strangest thing, even Minister Hod found himself struck dumb. They had arrived at the moment. Even if Oliver was unable to match it, with who he was being insufficient, he ought to have tried. And yet, what was this? Some casual rambling about the state of the strays that they'd gathered up, as part of the mass migration of people towards the tournament? Was there anyone truly interested in hearing that?

Hod did not think so, and yet quiet remained. The crowd listened as if intrigued. Only a slightest few people stirred, with frowns on their faces, wondering what it was that Oliver Patrick had gathered all their attentions for. He'd put down a man, in the form of Gar, and he'd taken control, as if to say and do something grand and overwhelming, but all he had for them now were the words of a simpleton.

"With winter coming too," Oliver continued, "I do expect they'll be finding somewhere that they wish to stay. It's a problem to be considered. A few hundred dogs, in a little village like ours? Do we run them off, or do we make use of them?"

His smile twisted then, and his calm gesticulations changed ever so slightly. He clenched his fist, and he finished his sentence, as if it were a different man speaking.

"I say we make use of them," he said, the air chilly around him, the look in his eyes entirely different, more frightening. It didn't take an expert of diction to see through Oliver's change. Even the most common men could make note of it. Even the lowliest of peasants could hear that he was pointing to something beyond mere talk of dogs.

Hod could see Blackwell stir. The General looked to Karstly, as if willing him to move as well, and take advantage of the moment, before Oliver seized it entirely for himself. But Karstly merely shrugged at him. Hod shook his head at that. 'There's a man that you'll never move with logic,' Hod thought. 'He craves his stories, and now he sees one right in front of him. I do apologise, Lord Blackwell, but there is naught to be done.'

"A few hundred dogs," Oliver said, twisting the fingers in his curled fist. There was an air of malevolence to him, when he looked at them like that. "Even they, we will have to make use of, gentlemen. The lowliest of things, that which we scorn, we will find ourselves having to reach for, to make allies of."