A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1759 - 1759: Clashing Storms - Part 1

"Hirosh has lifted itself," Queen Asabel said. "Those with doubts, I advise you to visit. Our comrades there have found purpose. They see as we do, the future that is presented. They see the necessity of the path we have taken. I declare to you that this was unavoidable. We could not ignore it any longer. The greatest hero in all our history, Arthur, was stolen from us – and how could we turn any more of a blind eye than we already have? Indeed, you have rage, citizens, and I can tell you why. That is the rage of decades of injustice. That is the rage that we feel when stolen from us was the greatest Hero that the Stormfront has ever seen."

"Lift your hands not for me," Queen Asabel said. "For this is not my cause. This was begun a good time ago, by better men. We simply walk the road that they bid us to tread. Lift your hands, for the memory of he that we all so loved. Who willingly gave himself unto death, for the sake of an impossible task, done merely to be rid of him? Lift your hands for he that died so that we might live in peace for a while longer. So that we might gather our strength, and prepare ourselves for this day that has come. The Stormfront cries out. The earth itself cries out. The Pandora Goblin, the High King said, sits in the desert. Nay, I declare! It sits the throne, right in our own Capital! An impossible task, truly! But we will see it done. Unified, citizens of the Pendragon lands, and I declare there is no mightier creature in all the world than we."

It was an explosion.

Hands shot up in the air.

Mouths opened and gave cries more passionate even than soldiers on the battlefield.

Men bellowed, women shouted, and children roared. All of them whipped up in the fury of the fire that Queen Pendragon had arrived with. A woman of purpose, she was, and now they saw her purpose. They saw the path that she intended to walk, and it was clear to them that if they declared themselves men at all, they would walk it with her. To the very end. No matter what might stand in their way.

Then Lord Blackwell knelt. Both to show his respect to his Queen, and to hide the tears that stained his cheeks.

A mighty cause they'd jumped into. Commanding General he was. Shouldering all that responsibility. He had burdened himself with it – and the impetuous to this war. He had taken charge of the condition of victory, and declared to himself that for the good of those he'd brought into this mess, he should see this war won.

Queen Asabel liberated him beyond that. She reminded him of that which he was. A mere General. He'd overstepped in his place. He'd supposed that alone, he could try and quietly bear that which he'd brought them all into. For the remedying of the condition of the country, and of his own anger.

But there was a reason Royalty existed. There were creatures, indeed, beyond men. Seeing Queen Asabel, Lord Blackwell was convinced of it. A mighty General he might have been, but he did not have the divinity necessary to rule. In attempting, in some sort of sudo fashion, to do just that, he had only limited himself, and strained himself unnecessarily.

She offered him freedom then, just as she offered it to the masses, who follow Lord Blackwell's example – and that of his soldiers – and knelt before their Queen.

That she could stand over them, so fiercely as she continued to, and take all that loyalty, with such a degree of certainty. It was a terrifying thing to behold. To be a Queen at all. It was a terrifying thing indeed. Queen Asabel had spent years trying to reconcile the condition of her post to herself, but at all last, did Blackwell suppose she had managed it.

Oliver slashed at the air with his sword in the predawn chill. Darkness was still in the fullest of its curtains over their encampment, inside the walls of Ernest. They weren't expected to gather for a good while yet. Still, he was there, sword in hand, fighting against invisible foes.

"On the morrow, we shall make a small but significant change," Hod had told them. "General Patrick shall be tasked with engaging King Germanicus. You, General Blackthorn, shall be freed up and utilised elsewhere."

Naturally, General Blackthorn hadn't been too happy about that. He'd taken it to be an insult. "You think he can succeed where I have already struggled?"

"You threw that man off the wall did you not?" Hod said. "You have already achieved a single victory against him. You would be asking too much if you wished for more than that."

He had then pointed out the state of Blackthorn's ribs. Something that still bothered him merely from walking. It was adrenaline alone that kept him engaged throughout the day. And the continuous engagements with King Germanicus certainly weren't helping him.

"If you keep fighting him as you are, you will die," Hod had finished, rather bluntly.

"And you believe that he might fare better?" General Blackthorn had asked, pointing at Oliver.

"I believe, at least, he shall be capable of holding him off for a time," Hod had replied. "After all, he shall not be doing it alone. Our great Minister of Blades shall be with him, along with his own Sword, in that boy Gar."

It was only then that Blackthorn had aquised. With three men doing the same job that he had previously been doing, there was no longer any room for him to complain. Even at the height of arrogance, it would have been difficult to protest that three Fourth Boundary men together would be able to achieve less than him by himself.

When Blackthorn was finally satisfied, he'd left, after grunting another barbed comment at Hod, quietly enough that Oliver could not hear it. Whatever it was, all it earned was a shrug of the Minister of Logic's shoulders.