A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1528 - 1528: A Tiger - Part 7

"Minister Hod," Verdant said, speaking before the rest of them, as if knowing something that they did not. Hod supposed that the Idris man had guessed at his purpose, just as his father, standing quietly to the right of Queen Asabel had. Hod had always held a slight distaste towards the Idris family for their ability of foresight, but he could not hold it too strongly against them then – for they were the very reason that he supposed he could move forward more quickly.

Verdant stood aside, to allow him his path towards the exhausted Ser Patrick, with his dead eyes.

"Queen Asabel, if I might offer just the smallest amount of counsel, before this crowd begins to butcher itself?" Hod said.

"…Minister, I could think of nothing in this world that I would be more grateful for," Asabel said, relief flushing her voice.

"Make the announcement. Tell them of the rank that you gave Oliver Patrick," Hod said.

"You knew?" Lord Blackwell interrupted. "What spies do you mobilize that can even hear whispers from my tent?"

"Not spies, Great General," Hod said irritably. "It was the logical conclusion. Do you think you are the only creature capable of strategy in the entire Kingdom? With the pieces being what they were, it was obvious that you would take this path forward, for the sake of your war. Before you announcement, there was uncertainty, but as soon as it was spoken that there was indeed a war, everything that you thought to be a secret becomes a rather concrete fact. But we have not the time to argue. You have my respect, Queen Asabel – you managed to control the mob that Lord Blackwell and Oliver Patrick created for you. I would have you do it again, whilst I fix our other little problem."

"Very well," Queen Asabel said, nodding seriously, and clenching her fists, "I shall do as you tell me to."

The situation was worsening by the second. When Queen Asabel first attempted to speak up, her words were drowned out by the violent clamour of a crowd that was tearing itself to pieces. It took the roar of General Blackthorn to quiet them down enough to hear her.

"SILLLENNNNNCEEE!" The great man bellowed, his voice drenched in his terrifying Command, pinning every man, no matter how filled with aggression, frozen temporarily in place.

"A moment of your time, everyone," Queen Asabel said quite politely. "I am very well aware that you are busy… But before you find your anger, I would have you know all the facts. I would tell you our plans, and our reasoning, for you have every right to know, given the weighty burden we ask of you…"

Hod nodded with approval, hearing her opening, and he turned away, knowing that he could trust her to keep them in a temporary state of calm, whilst he dealt with the troublesome Oliver Patrick.

"If there was any more to you," he said to Oliver, "you would be terrifying. But now as you stand, you are terrifying for the wrong reason. By yourself, you almost sabotaged the entire war effort of your allies. Did you raise your voice on impulse? And then, on impulse again, you chose not to follow through with it?"

"…I did," Oliver said.

"You ought to have trusted in that first impulse," Hod said. "It was working, but you feared it."

"I have no right."

"…We have given him the name General Patrick," Queen Asabel said. "For the achievements that he has sown, and for the strength that he has shown us continually. He defeated the grand General Zilan – that ought be reason enough. He will be a leader of men in the wars to come, and…"

"They call you General Patrick now," Hod said, "you have every right. If you balk from leading the thousands here, then do you suppose that you could lead thousands on the field of battle?"

"It is a different thing. Those men will have sworn loyalty to me," Oliver said.

"Will this?" Hod said, smiling thinly. "Is that how you suppose such large armies are composed, General Patrick? Do you think you can train thousands of men yourself? You're making a rather fundamental and embarrassing mistake."

With Queen Asabel still making their speech in their ears, Hod went a step further, and he spoke beside Oliver's ear. "I would say, again, that this performance of yours has been embarrassing in its entirety. Dare you lead even ten men, when you crumble against the heat of such a fire?"

Oliver's dead eyes flashed towards him, narrowing ever so slightly. Hod smiled, unmoved. "Continue to fight against the whims of the Gods, General Patrick, and you will be doomed to a pathetic death. You will call it honour that kept you from seizing more, but I see it to be cowardice."

"You see nothing," Oliver said back. "You know not the wars that I fight. You know not how easy it would be to give in to that desire. I held back."

"Pathetic," Hod said again, shaking his head. "If this is where you crumble, then you ought to have died five years ago. There are situations where you can't afford to stand still. The Oliver Patrick that you think to be honourable is no longer required. The situation is larger than you. You drew back, at the slightest amount of discomfort. I call that cowardice, boy."

Oliver's eyes flashed gold. "You call it nothing, Minister," he said, seizing him. "For you know nothing, you are nothing, you came dressed as a peasant, and as a peasant you'll stand."

"Is this your heart?" Minister Hod said, calmly looking at the fist clenched on his clothes. "Are these your real emotions? Would you wound me with the title of peasant? Do you look down on them now? Is that what is? You fear what you've become – you're a nobleman, like those you scorn, but even worse, for you pretend to be better. And yet look how quickly you change."

Oliver clenched his teeth, overcome by rage. "You are not at the Academy any longer, Minister Hod. General Tavar is not here to have your outbursts tolerated. Other men would attack you, when you speak so spitefully. Worse men."