A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1627 - 1627: The Ripples of Victory - Part 6

"…You're not wrong," Willem said. "And you suppose you know his writing well enough to be certain? I don't suppose that a spy would have an easy time emulating this messiness… There's even a fingerprint smudge from the ink."

"That's his, without a doubt," Blackwell said. "Read it, and verify what is in it. Then, transmit that information to the other Colonels, and then the Captains. We will have every man in this army know of it, and on the wave of that morale, we shall break through Harley today. This war has declared a sudden change in direction. We shall call a meeting, and see all in attendance tonight."

"But Karstly and Blackthorn are far too distant to easily recall," Willem said. "They'll be facing the same struggles as we."

"Distant they might be, it will only take an hour for a bird to reach them," Blackwell said. "The strength of this information is more than enough to shatter the obstacles that they face, and to bring them scurrying back. This was an impossible war from the start, Willem – it requires impossible victories like this."

…

…

It was past midnight when the last of the Generals arrived in that broad tent, with its grand fire in the centre seeing it well heated, despite the coming winter chill.

Murmurs had been exchanged, and thoughts had been announced, but Queen Asabel had strictly forbidden that they speak any further on the matter of strategy until Blackthorn was there to join her – out of respect for her Minister of War.

He came striding in, on his long legs, looking as bloodthirsty as if they had lost their battles. It did not seem to be the picture of a happy man. There was blood on his armour, and blood sprinkled on his face, as was beginning to be a habit of his. He seemed to declare that there was no need for cleanliness in a tent whose purpose was the puppeteering of a great war.

"Blackwell," he bellowed, before he had even sat down.

"What?" Blackwell growled back, throwing Blackthorn's hostility straight back at him, refusing to be bowed. The two seeds of the old House Black refused each other's presence, as instinctively as two male bears refused to tolerate another in their territory.

"This," he said, slamming the note down that Blackwell had seen sent out on his birds. "Is there truth in it?"

"Why don't you take a seat, General?" Karstly said, with no small degree of amusement. "All will be revealed in time, I am sure."

"Silence, Karstly," Blackthorn said with a sniff. "I've had enough of your little quips. You'll tell me now, Blackwell, whether this is worth my time. I forced a victory far earlier than it needed to be because of you. You've deprived me of blood."

"That does not seem to be something you have any shortage of," Karstly said, pointing at the man's armour, and ignoring his earlier warning.

Blackthorn rounded on him in an instant, baring his teeth, he lunged an arm across the table, and just barely managed to grab Karstly by his chestplate. In the same flash of movement, Karstly had seen a dagger pointed at the General's hand, and continued to hold it there threateningly, with a mild expression on his face.

"Would you please?" General Rainheart said, shaking his head. "It is late enough already without you two bickering."

"He is right," Queen Asabel said, stepping in between the two of them. "General Karstly, there is no quarter to be given for your remarks. You speak with the intention of seeing the good General Blackthorn further enraged. And you, my Minister of War, you ought not leap into such obvious baits. You make yourself look silly."

She was likely the only person in the entire room that could have seen the General Blackthorn tamed. As gently as a small white hand to the snout of a massive beast, she turned the great General away from his violence, he released Karstly, and found himself a seat. At which point, the Lord Idris saw the fit opportunity to stand beside him, and whisper a few words of update in his ear.

"Do forgive me, Queen Asabel. My mouth speaks before my stomach knows quite what it wants," Karstly said. Queen Asabel regarded him mildly. She didn't know how much stock she put in the General's apologies, if any at all. He was meant to have sworn himself to her, as the rest had, but if he had sworn anything, it was in the same way that a cloud had sworn to remain in the sky – it didn't mean she had any degree of command over it.

"Very well. If we are all ready, I would ask Commanding General Blackwell to proceed, and tell us what he knows," Queen Asabel said.

"Thank you, Queen Asabel," General Blackwell said, dipping his head. "The situation is as I have stated in my letters to all of you. I did not see you recalled without reason. But the board has changed, dramatically enough, that we must change our strategy in its entirety, so that we might take fullest advantage of it."

"A victory by the hands of our friend General Patrick, was it?" General Rainheart said, nodding, as if he had predicted it ten years before – earning a scowl from Blackwell.

"In a show of insubordinace, he forsook the orders that I gave him to abandon Ernest and retreat," Blackwell said. "And the fool engaged the army of twenty thousand Emerson men on the field of battle, on the night that they arrived."

"He met them on the field of battle?" Broadstone said, frowning. "You did not say that in your letter, Commanding General. I had assumed that he would have made use of Ernest's natural defences…"

"I gave you nothing but the briefest of information in my letter," Blackwell said. "For good reason – you are busy men. You needed know nothing more than the fact of Oliver Patrick's victory. You all had the wit to understand that, no matter the circumstances, it would change the game. That is why you gathered here, at such haste, without further prodding from me."