A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1693 - 1693: The Cause of a Tempest - Part 1

"Minister," Oliver said, dipping his head. "I have been remiss in my duties in not coming to thank you sooner. We've had very little to say to each other since the battle, and after you were such a great aid."

The Minister of Blade waved his hand in dismissal. "Those are not the kind of diplomatic efforts that I expect from you, General Patrick. Spare me them. You need not visit me for the sake of diplomacy."

"Quite right," Oliver said. "I have not come here for merely diplomatic efforts. I am about to embark on something that General Blackthorn will no doubt consider reckless if he were to find out…"

"I thought that he had granted you freedoms?" The Minister of Blades said as much. "Your Verdant Idris said as much when he came to visit me."

"He paid you a visit, did he?" Oliver said.

"Several," the Minister said.

"I had not been informed of these," Oliver said, grimacing, realizing that Verdant had made efforts at diplomacy in Oliver's absence, having not wished to bother his Lord with it until very recently.

"We have been granted freedoms, but there are still certain things that Blackthorn would likely prevent us from doing before they were carried out if he could," Oliver said.

The Minister almost looked excited at that, but he gathered himself before he could let it show. "And this is one of these things, is it?" He said.

"I fear that it might be," Oliver said. "I plan to take a party of thirty, with myself and Lady Blackthorn, and you – if you are in agreement – to be a party of it. We will position ourselves with the intentions of scouting territory to the south, along the path which our enemy is sure to come. A matter that Blackthorn will no doubt consider useful when we inform his men of it."

"And our actual intentions?" The Minister of Blades asked.

"The gathering of peasantry from enemy villages along our way," Oliver said.

The Minister nodded. If he was surprised, his stoney face did not show it. If anything, he almost seemed approving. "That is the sort of strategy that I would come to expect of you, General Patrick. I trust you are already well aware of what the enemy reaction to this will be, when they foresee our plans?"

"We will be stirring a beehive," Oliver said.

"Very well. Then we are of the same mind," the Minister said. "I can be ready in fifteen minutes, if you so wish."

"...You need not rush to such a degree, Minister," Oliver said. "It will take me an hour at least to ready the rest of them."

"So be it. I will be ready regardless."

…

…

They met Blackthorn soldiers at the gate, Oliver and his group of thirty. They paid their respects to the Lady that rode in General Patrick's company before they did the man himself – but that was not to say that they were lax in their formalities. They still gave him the crispest salute that they were likely to offer.

"Where does the road take you?" Came the Captain's questions, obviously not asked for his own curiosity, but out of the necessity of informing his own Lord about Oliver Patrick's departure.

"South," Oliver said honestly. "We will scout the way of our enemy."

The Captain's mustache twitched as he acknowledged that. He shared a look with the man next to him. But they did no more than that. They too were aware of the orders that Oliver Patrick had been given, and the freedom that he was thusly granted. "Very well," he said. "Then I pray that the road treats you well, and gives you the vision you need to see far, before our enemies do spot you. We would be a weaker force if we were to lose you, General Patrick."

Oliver had to smile. For even the lower officers of Lord Blackthorn to be fearing for the recklessness of the General that they were allied with, he had to acknowledge that his reputation might have been getting out of hand. "I shall endeavour to do what I can."

They gave another salute for him, and another for the Minister of Blades, and a third for their departing Lady, whom they wished the best of healths.

Every one of Oliver's men was mounted. The large majority of their force were the Minister of Blades' own soldiers. Oliver had considered taking the likes of Firyr, or Karesh or Kaya with him, but had in the end supposed that their usefulness in training the new men was far too significant for him to snatch them up for his own little games.

"South was what you said…" Lady Blackthorn pointed out, when Oliver instead took them, quite directly, towards the west. "Are you intending to scout Solgrim? We checked on her only the other day."

"Hm. I simply want to ride by her as we go. Is that not enough?" Oliver said.

"It seems pointless," Lady Blackthorn said, without the slightest shred of mercy for his sentimentality.

"I am of no opinion," the Minister of Blades said, when Blackthorn tried to bring him into the argument along with her.

"It will not take us long," Oliver said. "Fear not, Lasha, there will be due enough excitement. Besides, this gives the chance for the horses to warm themselves up. If we push them hard from the off, they're liable to strain a leg or two."

"…There are a thousand other things we could have done to remedy that," Lasha said. "Or is that you just don't trust your new mount?"

Oliver had neglected to give the white horse a name. He'd kept it, after the victory that it had helped bring in the battle against the Emersons, but he almost felt guilty in his keeping of it. The loss of Walter had stung as much as the loss of his close comrades. The horse had been with him for years, and he'd been able to rely on it. They'd survived the harshest of battles together. Though Walter had seemed relatively ordinary to look at, there was a fierceness to him that Oliver did not think that he could find anywhere else.