A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1527 - 1527: A Tiger - Part 6

"I am only a Silver Queen in name, it is true," Asabel continued. "My lands are only a quarter as large as any other. My strength is minimal. To engage in such a war, it has been told to me, is the height of folly. It has been told to me too, that our chances of victory are slim to none. I have no power of my own to see it done. For the crown that sits on my head, I do not have the strength in my arms to wield a sword as my uncle had for the sake of this country's justice. And so, it is you, brave citizens of the Stormfront, that I must beg. I ask you, freely, without judgement as to your response, that you fight alongside me, in the name of justice. We have need of every sword that we can manage."

For the damnable mess that had been created, Hod could have cursed. From Oliver, to Blackwell, the two of them have created a brackish water that even the best of orators would have difficulty swimming it. And yet, Queen Asabel had managed. From her place at the side of the tournament grounds, she'd raised her voice, and gracefully slid, with her long dresses trailing behind her, across the mud, towards the centre where the rest were, seeming to find every man amongst the crowd with her eyes. Every time she glanced in a direction, she made a soldier feel as if it was him in particular that she was looking at.

"Oliver," Asabel said quietly, in a pause between her speech, once she was standing beside him. "You were drawing them out. You ought not have stopped. We have a need to gather as many men as possible."

She risked an uncomfortable silence in speaking to him like that. Now the crowd was left to brood. Their mumbling grew louder and louder, until it turned to shouting, as men fought to be heard over each other. They shouted across the tournament ground, asking various opinions of different men, or else merely stating their own.

"TREACHHHERRRRYYY!"

Came one loud, and especially long shout, enough to make any member of Blackwell's allies flinch, and indeed, the Great General himself did.

"Is this the best you can do, Blackwell?" General Blackthorn growled to him, from his position by Queen Asabel's side. It was the closest the two men had been since their days at the Academy. When they stood side by side like that, it was easy to tell the relation between the two houses. Though, as far as wildness went, even the now angry Lord Blackwell failed to match him.

"Silence," Blackwell spat back. "You have no mind for strategy, do not speak to me your opinions. This was not my plan – the boy got carried away, and this is the mess that he leaves us in."

"Oliver," Queen Asabel said again, a panic in her voice. "Do you not hear me? Why do you not reply?"

"I heard you, Asabel," Oliver said. "But I cannot meet your expectations. That is not me. I have no right to snatch from them their loyalty, or push them in any sort of direction."

The noises of the crowd grew louder. The Patrick men on the side of the roped off arena started jostling with the members of the crowd next to them, in a mere attempt to retain the ground that they were standing on. The rowdiness of the crowd was quickly growing into an uncertain violence, with no clear allegiances, merely chaos, wherever one looked.

"You were keen to do it earlier," Lancelot remarked. "You pushed them, and you declared your war, long before any man of true rank could. This riot that follows now, it's yours to blame."

"My Lord, they require you," Verdant added. "You were mere fractions of a second away. You could have seized them all."

"I do not have the authority to," Oliver replied, "I overstepped."

Hod could not hear their conversation, but he could guess at it, from the frantic exchange. His own position in the crowd was quickly growing uncertain, with the men to either side of him descending into violence.

"Fucking traitors," he heard one soldier spit. "Knew better than to trust a woman like that, I did. Kind words, and a tainted bloody heart. She's been Queen for barely a couple of years, and she already has turned on the King."

"What the pissin' hell did you just say, you rat?" Snarled another soldier, with a different sigil on his chest. "You should know better than to speak ill of Queen Asabel."

A punch followed, before the conversation could go any further, and the two fell to the ground grappling, almost knocking Hod's feet out from underneath him.

"Damn fools," Hod said. If he were a less adept man, he might have given in to anger then, but he could only sigh. He made a point, not to interfere too heavily with the natural flow of the God's will. He did not think that it was his part to play. And yet, he could see no other option. Something had stopped Oliver Patrick from going all the way, right when there was that boundary to cross. "Failure here isn't an option," he told himself, pushing under the rope around the arena, knowing full well it would encourage the other peasants and soldiers to follow him, but he decided that his quest was more important regardless.

"Go no further," Lord Blackthorn's sword came swinging for him, without even looking in his direction. The General was still glaring his abuse at Lord Blackwell, engaged in a harsh conversation with him, but his sword still managed to perfectly find the inch of air space just before Hod's neck.

"You are bold, Lord Blackthorn," Hod said calmly. "I did not think that even a beast like you was reckless enough to point his sword at a Minister."

The gathering of great men turned their heads in his direction all at once. Hod saw the way Karstly's lips twisted into a smile, and he found himself mildly annoyed at the fact. He saw the glitter in Lord Blackwell's eyes, and the shock in Lord Blackthorn's. His effect was enough to even drag Queen Asabel's eyes away from Oliver to gape at him.