A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1683 - 1683: The Coming Storm - Part 7

He looked to Verdant, as if asking for assistance, but Verdant did not budge.

"You do not fight the way Fitzer described you," Blackthorn said, towering over Oliver. "Where is it? Where is that which made him speak as it did? Are you hiding it from me, boy? Do you think yourself to be cunning?"

"Do you think I would?" Oliver said. "Or are you as foolish as the others seem to think you are? What, do you expect a maid to clean up that mess that you've made? You've put a dent in the table, and you've been here thirty seconds. Is this the sort of General that I'm meant to listen to, and respect. And still you'd call me for insubordinance? Insubordinance to what, and to who? To a man that can't control himself?"

"What did you say?" General Blackthorn said. "A man that can't control himself, is it?" He drew his hand back to punch, and pounded the air just to the right of Oliver's head, making a show of missing on purpose. "Would a lack of control spare you?"

"Congratulations, General, you've missed," Oliver said back, not impressed in the least.

General Blackthorn shook his head like an angry bear trying to get rid of fleas. His rage was vast enough that every piece of furniture in his newly settled room seemed in danger.

"Perhaps we ought not go too far, my Lord," Verdant said, finally speaking up. "I fear the two of you are volatile enough to come to blows if we leave you be."

"…Perhaps," Oliver said, managing to take a step back, despite his rage.

"You lack use as you are," General Blackthorn said again. "You are not at all what Fitzer described. Your strategy carries a different flavour to what he insisted on. Why do you not use what granted you victory against the Emersons?"

"If I knew how to call upon that at will, I would, I assure you, General Blackthorn," Oliver said. "Need I insist more how much I dislike losing to you?"

"…You need not," Blackthorn said. Oliver's own rage, thrown up in a fire against General Blackthorn's fury had been proof enough of that. He nodded to Reid to see the table and all the pieces cleaned up.

"So, from your words, General Patrick, are we to assume that your victory over the Emerson's was a mere fluke, that you will never fly to such heights again?" General Blackthorn said.

"I have tried grasp it since, and since I have failed," Oliver said. "Apparently you see through me from the start, and you see the difference in my normal approach to strategy, to what was present that day."

"Fitzer described it as something far lighter than this brutish way in which you move," Blackthorn said, taking a few steps back to allow Reid to manoeuvre for his cleaning. Verdant moved as well, to offer him a hand, and Lady Blackthorn went to absentmindedly snatch at a few pieces.

"If that is what he described it as, then perhaps it was that," Oliver said.

"You have no inclining of it yourself?" Blackthorn said.

"I have since attempted to grasp at it – I make no lies in that. But I have failed to do so," Oliver said. "To my own frustration. If you would expect such victories out of me in future, General Blackthorn, then I am afraid I will have to disappoint you. That was a thoroughly exhausting endeavour. Something that I could not do again even if I were to try."

Oliver waited, expecting more berating, but for some reason, at that, Blackthorn simply nodded, almost good-naturedly, as if it was the reply that he had been expecting. "Very well," he said. "Then I would ask you to continue your efforts. But as far as training the peasantry – can you be trusted to once more raise them to the standard that you did before?"

"That, I am certain I can improve on," Oliver said.

"Then you have a use," Blackthorn replied. "When the army arrives from the Capital, it will no doubt outnumber us with a vastness that should make the defence of any siege difficult. We must grasp at whatever it is we can find long before it comes. No amount of preparation shall be sufficient… In other matters, I have received a report on the state of your supplies, apparently managed by your merchant, Greeves."

"Ah, yes," Oliver stiffened, expecting a few more harsh words at that.

"Impressive," he said nodding. "I approve of this merchant. Give him my commendations."

"…Oh," Oliver frowned. "Oh, right. Right. Yes, indeed, General. He has done well for us… Very well, I shall give him your praise."

"If through him you can find more supplies for us, that would be a praiseworthy pursuit as well," General Blackthorn said. "As I have said, a great many matters do require our attention."

"Indeed…" Oliver said.

"And you do not succeed well in following orders," Blackthorn said.

"Well—"

"So I shall give you none," Blackthorn said. "Will that suffice? I shall give you your freedom. You have built something here, and I will not tread on it. I will only impose myself upon you when it is necessary to do so. Can the weaknesses in your heart find it in themselves to stomach that? So it is that I bargain with you – I shall give you your freedom, but I expect two things. One, your assurances that you shall operate to the fullest capacity that you can to see Ernest as well defended as it can be, and two, that when an order does arrive from me, you will take note of our bargain, and you will ensure that you do not neglect it."

It was an almost merchant-like bargain to be struck. Oliver had to admit that it was vaguely insulting for him to have gathered such a reputation for insubordinance that Blackthorn would strike such a deal for him, but he could not deny that it seemed rather appealing.