A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1549 - 1549: To War - Part 2

"No doubt the Minister was also going to mention the fact that our troops all await there, in Pendragon territory," Karstly said lazily. "Mine, Broadstone's, Blackthorns, and Rainheart's. With so much of importance in one place, I don't think it is even worthy of discussion, with how obvious our course is set to be."

"…I still have my homelands that I would see protected," Blackthorn said, with the slightest hint of a growl.

"But the majority of your soldiery are in Asabelian territory, are they not? Leave the defence of your homelands to your sons. You have a duty and a war to fight, General Blackthorn," Karstly said.

Though Blackthorn growled, it seemed as if he was very much in agreement. He shot his daughter an expectant look across the table, but given that Lasha made no move to reply, Oliver had no idea what the look meant.

"One has to note, however," Minister Hod said, raising a hand. "The possibility of Yarmdon attack in this all, and of Verna betrayal. A war amongst the Stormfront this might be, but it certainly does not stop our old enemies from taking advantage of it."

"General Khan will not allow his people to move," General Blackwell said confidently.

"His treaty was with the Stormfront, was it not?" Hod pointed out. "Who is to say that he would honour it to you personally, when push comes to shove? He could quite well easily declare you rebels, as you indeed are, and fall upon you."

Blackwell twisted his lips in dissatisfaction. "…He's an honourable man. His respect is for the warrior. He would not look for loopholes."

"If that is the extent of your certainty, then I would advise that you take precautions," Hod said. "The matter of a Yarmdon crossing sharen't be overlooked either. You can quite well be certain that, as he gathers the other Silver Kings to war with him, the High King too will see the Yarmdon at our back, and be quick to send offers of gold to see them provoked into a crossing."

"Ha! The Yarmdon fighting for the Stormfront? That would be a laugh!" Blackthorn said. "Their hatred for us is the only shred of pride that they have."

Hod glanced at Blackthorn mildly. "Indeed, and what of their lack of honour? Do you not think their first thought will be of treachery? Their hatred for us runs deep, as you have said. They would not turn down a perfect opportunity to pierce into our lands, under the spell of allegiance, and to attack us in the process, before they turn to bite the very hand that offers them their gold."

Blackthorn was quick to be silenced by that. Hod's logic was a difficult thing to fend off, especially so when one preferred to do his thinking through instinct, as Blackthorn did.

The tenseness of their situation was made evident just from a quick glance about that table. Every man and General of import had been offered a seat. It was large enough that even the largest of Queen Asabel's tents struggled to contain it. They had come dressed in their armour, with their colourful surcoats thrown over the top of it, displaying the proud sigils of their houses, and indicating their intent for war.

But when the reality of war was made present, and they were forced to make their war plans, many of the men abdicated their opinion in favour of that of the higher-ranking men, in Blackthorn, Broadstone, Karstly and the rest. Just as Oliver did. There were places for the masses to make voice of their opinion, and there were places where they had to bow their heads, acknowledging superior wisdom.

Professor Volguard had been given a seat at such a table, out of respect for the strategic wisdom that he had culminated over the years, even though he had protested, quite fiercely, that his knowledge of strategy remained as pure theory. He had never been able to stomach the true realities of war, nd had come to appreciate strategy instead from its abstractness.

His stance was made evident by his state of dress, different to the rest of them. He wore not his armour, only his lengthy noble finery, of the sort that he might wear at the Academy. The lengthy cuts to his shirt, his waistcoat, and his jacket, only served to accentuate the man's gauntness and his magnificent height. He'd been given a stool the same height as the rest of them, but his stool made him look a spider, sprawled over the entirety of his little corner of the table, making the Colonels that had been seated next to him mightily uncomfortable at the most minor of movements.

With a plan stated, Blackwell was quite keen to hurry them along. His urgency for movement was likely amongst the greatest of them, but it seemed that all of the Generals present held the same opinion, given that it was the only advantage that they had.

Oliver had to admit, a plan of capturing the north of the Stormfront, as swiftly as they were able to, seemed like the most likely one to have a degree of success. It was about all he could stumble upon in his own frantic thought on the matter, though it did strike him as still… chaotic, given the holdings outside of the north that they would have to delicately keep an eye on, such as the Skreen that Skullic ruled over.

He noted too, just how much Queen Asabel was forcing herself to keep a straight face. The plan, for her, was likely the one she wished to avoid more than anything. She would be immediately declaring war on her own family, and seeking to strip their lands from them. Oliver did not know how harsh their relationship had grown over the years, but he did not think that it had been too bad before the Quarter Inheriting. They had a difference of ideals, and as royals, that quickly led to rather dramatic disputes, but he did not think that they outright hated each other, to the point that they would wish death on the other. Not that Queen Asabel would ever willingly wish death on anyone.