A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1535 - 1535: The Resentful - Part 7

"NOT ONLY HE, MY LORD, BUT I," Verdant shouted, as adept in sensing the opportunity as ever, he knelt before Oliver. "A LORD IN MY OWN RIGHT, I ACKNOWLEDGE MY PLACE AS YOUR SERVANT, AND I GIVE MY LOYALTY TO YOU ONCE MORE. I DECLARE IT WITH A JUBILANT HEART, MY LORD, MY GENERAL! I SEEK GLORY AT YOUR SIDE – I SEEK TO BARE WITNESSES TO THE VICTORIES THAT I KNOW YOU WILL PROVIDE!"

Oliver had to make a great effort not to wince when Verdant committed a little too heavily to his act as a fanatically follower. Or at the very least, Oliver wished that he was joking.

"I, LADY BLACKTHORN, STATE THE SAME. MY LOYALTY AND MY SWORD," Lasha said, raising her voice, and skipping the need for a speech, piggy backing off Verdant's own declaration, so that she might lend to the tidal wave that was currently being built in her own way.

"I, General of House Skullic, pledge my allegiance to your cause as well," Skullic said, rather mildly, given the passion that had come before him, and all the cheers that still hung in the air, making it near impossible to be heard speaking in a level voice, but somehow, they still all heard him. He made his way in front of Queen Asabel, and Oliver. "I give my respects to you, General Patrick, and I bend my knee to you, Queen Asabel, and to the future of the Stormfront."

"I bend my knee to thee also," General Blackwell said. "My loyalty is to Queen Asabel and the Stormfront. My ambitions for justice, and my title of Great General are hers to wield. I will take up command in your name, my Queen, and lead your armies to victory."

General Blackthorn looked almost annoyed – no, he definitely was annoyed – that General Blackwell had managed to speak up before him. "For your sake, my Queen, I make allies with my longest rival. I will know not the taste of defeat, until your grand victory has been achieved."

"House Idris stands united in its intentions," Lord Idris declared, kneeling in the mud beside his son, though towards a different master.

"I will not be absent from this war," General Rainwater said. "Out of respect for General Blackwell, and the Generals Skullic, and now Patrick, I join this war effort. Too much glory is to be had. My old blood stirs. History shall be rewritten. I will not be away from it. The opportunity to fight beside living legions, in a single united campaign. What lover of war could deny it?"

"You speak my mind for me," General Broadstone said, shooting General Karstly a questioning look as he joined Rainwater, seeming to ask where General Karstly still remained standing. "I will not miss. I join your war effort, Queen Asabel, with the intention of seeing you on the throne of High King. Please accept my sword."

"You honour me," Queen Asabel said. "You all honour me."

"They honour the future you invite in," Karstly said, finally provoked. So many men were kneeling before him, standing at the side of Queen Asabel as he was. He idly walked in front of them, as if mocking them, and pretending it was to him their allegiance was offered. "...And I suppose, I honour it too. House Karstly will fight alongside you, Queen Asabel, on the condition that you give me the rank of Great General, as General Blackwell once promised me."

"You will have it," Asabel said quickly. "Your achievements in the Verna justify it. I look forward to seeing all that you achieve."

With each man that knelt, the peasants continued to cheer, and now the soldiers did cheer as well. The Blackwell men that had been waiting for their turn added to the bellows. The Broadstone men. The Rainheart men. The Skullic men. The Blackthorn men. The Karstly men. The noblemen and soldiers, officers and foot soldiers, everyone attached to the great men that knelt before Queen Asabel shouted their approval.

The fire that Hod had prodded Oliver to burn had grown beyond any of their control, but still there were holdouts amongst their number, who had yet to declare anything yet.

"On behalf of the Minister of Blades, I declare House Yoreholder to House Patrick," Professor Yoreholder said, having to shout above the crowd, but not losing any dignity from it.

Oliver narrowed his eyes in confusion at her. He didn't say anything – not until she came close enough to speak to her in person.

She smiled at him when she did, as intimidating in her height as ever. "My husband has regretted that he did not stand firmly in the matter of your trial. It has haunted him, and he has ever searched for an opportunity to correct it. He will thank me for seizing it. It might make you uncomfortable to bear his allegiance, but I ask that you accept it."

"He cannot be beneath me," Oliver said.

"It is the punishment he would choose," Professor Yoreholder said. "Bear it, out of mercy, I beg you."

"She's not wrong," Hod interrupted. "And you're losing time boy. Quickly now. Burn through the last of them. You've played every card you can. Seize the rest of them."

Oliver gritted his teeth in annoyance, but he didn't suppose Hod to be wrong. He felt the build up of power acutely. His Command had never been so overwhelming as it had been then. If he were to secure an army for their cause, it would be now, before their time ran out.

"SOLDIERS OF THE STORMFRONT!" Oliver bellowed, putting every last drop of Command into his voice, all his power, and all his overwhelm. "KNEEL!"

He had meant to say, 'kneel before your Queen,' but in his arrogance, Ingolsol had seen the word withheld from him. It did not matter. The crowd began to kneel anyway. For the peasantry, it might have been even more effective to see it withheld, for when they dropped to their feet – and they did so with an eagerness – it was with Oliver Patrick that they pointed towards, not Queen Asabel. The Patrick army did much the same. They looked to him greedily, as a man might look to a God. They were more receptive to his Command than any other. As grand as it was then, it intoxicated them, and elevated them. They radiated the competence of soldiers far more elite than some of them were.