A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1633 - 1633: Echoes in the Void - Part 3

"You know who arises from their slumber," Tavar said. "You know what minds shall be joined against you. The royal stratagems shall come by our command only. In times of the war, it is the Generals that give their orders. The High King will be forced to step back, even against his own will. We have a duty to defend him, and we will see that carried out."

"I can only hope that it plays out as you say it shall," Hod said. "Truly. For all your efforts, it would be a great misfortune to see our noble King cast them all down."

"You will not win, Hod," Tavar said again. "You ought join us, and cling to your life. You have an ideal. Your Time of Tigers. This is not that time. You should wait a while longer. If you join us, this rebellion will cease to exist by the end of the month. You can restore peace to the realm, if you so will it."

"This is that time, General," Hod said sadly. "It is not the glorious revolution that I hoped it would be. It is bloody, and muddied, and messy. But it is time regardless. By the hands of man, I must see it happen, even if it means my life in the process."

Hod wondered if he imagined that look of approval on Tavar's face, as the General drew his sword back, and took a step away, his back turned towards his supposed enemy. There, he let slip just a single honest line. "There would be pride in calling you my son, even if it is not blood that we share."

"There is pride in calling you my father," Hod said. "Even if we must war against each other."

Tavar turned his head just enough to stare Hod down. "Leave now, Minister, and do not return. The next time that I see you, I shall be honour bound to kill you."

"Are you not honour bound now?"

"It is not within me to kill an unarmed man, who came unguarded to talk of peace," Tavar said. "What kind of General would I be if I had a reputation for killing messengers?"

Though the logic seemed flimsy, Hod stood regardless, and took the window of opportunity that he was offered to make a hasty escape.

"You were brave in coming," Tavar said, speaking to the fire, rather than Hod, as the Minister made his way towards the door. "Brave, and sharp… You are a danger, Minister. A great danger. But I will be forced to draw on all the dangerous weapons that the High King has kept gathering dust. Will you be able to match them?"

"I shall find the means," Hod said. "And others shall find the means before me. There are Tigers set to growling. I don't have the will necessary to control them – and they have far too much will to let themselves be controlled."

"Let us pray that when this is all over, no matter whose side it falls on, that there is more than just ash for the High King to rule over," Tavar said.

"That is a prayer I will share, and will offer to Claudia," Hod said. "Farewell, General, and luck to you."

…

…

"General!" Came the shout. "They're trying those ladders again!"

"Then we will give them the same response that we've given them a thousand times before," Skullic said impatiently. "Fill them full of arrows, and send them tumbling to the bottom of the cliffs!"

He waved his hand, and his Colonels saw the same command repeated. Two weeks they had been besieged, and hardly a single man had made it to the top of the Skreen's mighty clifflike walls. It was less a castle, and more a mountain. Walls were not built the full way around it, for they needed not be. The only walls present were those that plugged in the gaps between rocky valleys, where nature's defences were lacking. Then there were those grand towers, clinging precariously to the cliff side, offering archers an impossible range in their shooting.

Skullic was doing what he could to stick to the promise that he had made, of seeing the Skreen defended for beyond a month. He knew well how much attention he had his men were absorbing, merely in keeping to the defence as they were. He knew it best when he saw an army ten thousand strong standing outside of his gates in complete frustration.

As well as they were holding out, it was impossible not to feel the pressure of his situation. For even though he himself held on, there was no promise that the war was going well elsewhere. Not a single crowd seemed able to make it beyond the enemy archers. They had scouts placed all around, shooting down every bird that tried to leave the Skreen, and every bird that tried to land in it. It was the most disheartening thing, for it could well have been that his allies were already crushed elsewhere, and the resistance that Skullic was putting him was a pointless one.

It was faith alone that kept him going. There had been a tingling in his heart, when he'd seen the calibre of men joining Blackwell's cause. He was a young General compared to the likes of them, and he had to acknowledge the privilege he felt to fight alongside them. The Blackwell that had seen the Verna crushed so recently was a Blackwell that Skullic had been resentful he hadn't been able to join. And General Blackthorn was a man he'd always admired for that singular way in which he devoted it all to outright attack – it was a beautiful understanding of battle, even if it was more instinctual than logical.

Then Broadstone and Rainheart, tried and tested veteran men. Just for the opportunity to sit down and converse with them, and share in their experience, Skullic would have shouted in jubilation. He could have sought them out of his own accord, but his pride would not let him, and yet now he had the perfect excuse.