A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1548 - 1548: To War - Part 1

The Oliver Patrick that made his return to his encampment was a different man. The guards looked at him differently as he swept past, feeling the aura pouring out of him, seeing the blood on his clothes, and even seeing him still in his state of nightwear, none dared to comment.

His men asked after him on his return. Nila looked at him worriedly. But it was only her that Oliver briefly softened his expression for. There was a tautness about his being, as fear warred with his will, and he determined that he would not give in to it. Verdant had given him a nod of understanding, and had wordlessly set about securing what was necessary for Oliver to see himself dressed.

He fetched him fresh armour, of the lighter sort. After his duel with Gar, the armour that Harmon had crafted for him was in dire need of repair. Given that they were at war, Harmon had declared that he would see it fixed with haste – though he'd done so with the degree of nervousness that a man had when he was seeking any possible distraction from a particularly overwhelming problem.

With his new armour donned, and the wound concealed beneath his gauntlets, Oliver made his way to the command tent that had been set up the previous night, knowing full well that a counsel would already have been going on in his absence. There was an express feeling in the air that something be done, and hastily, before their encampment fell apart.

There were those that watched him as he walked with expectant looks, feeling the thrill of war in the air, and delighting in it. There were those – particularly amongst the noblemen – who were of entirely opposite orientation. They eyed him like pigeons, looking for any excuse to fly away, and in response, Oliver gave them glares filled with the stirring emotions within him, and he rooted them in place. Some felt the urge to salute before such intensity, for no matter what they might have thought of him as an individual, symbolically, Queen Asabel had made him the leader of their armies.

Of course, when I came to the command tent, it was an entirely different experience. Lord Blackwell eyed him with irritation from the head of his round table. "Do forgive us for starting without you, General Patrick. I think you'll appreciate that, in the event that we cannot find you, the war still proceeds regardless."

Oliver nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he took his seat, with his men standing guard behind him. Queen Asabel eyed him from across the table, with a distinctly worried expression. Not for the war, it didn't seem. Those eyes that bored into him seemed to be worried for the state of him alone. He shifted, ever so slightly uncomfortable. Though he felt his fear, and it throbbed in him, against his rage, he would not allow any others to see it.

"As we were saying, I am quite fine with that," Skullic said. "The Skreen will hold well against invaders that know not the harshness of its lands. I can hold out there for a month, if necessary. I'll gather the small folk in Greenhert. We'd have enough grain to last us two months, I'd suppose."

"Two months!?" There was a great stirring of admiration at that. "You were that well prepared?" Rainheart said.

Skullic shrugged. "Winter was coming, it was only natural to be this well prepared."

"Those are war preparations, not winter preparations. You sniffed that out, didn't you?" Rainheart prodded.

"Perhaps I felt an inclining."

"Then, can I trust that your same inclination gives us confidence in your announcement that you could hold out for as long as a month?" Rainheart asked. "Or are those the follies of youth, Daemon?"

"It will be purely a matter of battlefield strategy," Skullic said. "And the terrain and my defences are most to my advantage. Even if they see us entirely surrounded, I can be confident that I will hold out for a month."

Blackwell gave a deep nod, filled with respect. "Then, we can proceed with the rest of the plan," he said. "As long as Queen Asabel gives her consent."

"…You have all been quite well explained in your strategy. I can see no other option," Queen Asabel said.

"Indeed," Blackwell said. "Though I offer my apologies, knowing that this will be very difficult to your majesty, given your familiarity with our foe… But I fear we can go no other route."

"No other route indeed, Queen Asabel," General Karstly said, clearly not feeling the same emotion that General Blackwell was expressing. "But we can at least strive to ensure the safety of your family, as we go about our process of securing all the Pendragon lands under your name. If they have sense, they will surrender."

"My family have their pride, General Karstly," Asabel said sadly. "I fear they will not surrender."

"Regardless, it must be done," Blackwell said.

"Mind your tongue, Blackwell," Blackthorn said. "You speak to the Queen too harshly."

"Do you have any other suggestions then, Blackthorn?" Blackwell said, lounging in his chair, his posture seeming very much like an attempt at provocation. Blackthorn rose to it, growling, and he might have gone a step further, if Lord Idris had not put a hand on his shoulder.

"I fear this is the only course left to us," Lord Idris said, restraining Blackthorn with one hand, and taking care to explain matters to his Queen in the other direction. "If we secure the Pendragon lands in their entirety, then we secure, almost as a unified front, the north-east of the Stormfront in its entirety. With Blackwell's lands down here, to the west, extending towards Solgrim, we have a sizable stab into the land of the Emerson's as well. We will have enough territory to keep our trade routes afloat, and our troops fed – Gods willing. And, more importantly, we keep access to the Verna lands that we have won for ourselves. They will be vital in the war effort."