A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1761 - 1761: Clashing Storms - Part 3

Hod patted him on his shoulder. "I apologise for burdening you, boy, truly," he said. "But this is that which you are. Before we stood here, this moment was already decided. When a child of Dominus Patrick set his mind to studying strategy, what else could there be but this? You may content yourself in one thing, however. What I ask of you is not that which you produced for the Emersons – not entirely. I ask for your function as a Sword. Who we require is Dominus Patrick, not Oliver Patrick. Your father could have taken King Germanicus, could he not?"

Oliver stirred violently, suddenly angry. "He could have taken any man in the Kingdom, a thousand times over. Even before he ascended to the Sixth Boundary, when there was poison running through his blood, he could have taken Germanicus!"

Hod gave a rare snort of laughter. "Then you have your answer. I expect no excuses. Five days, General Patrick. Do not let me down," he'd said as he'd left.

With his anger, Oliver had sealed his own death warrant. He'd held his head in his hands complaining after the fact, realizing what he'd done. Verdant had smiled to see it. "You believed what you said though, didn't you?" Verdant said.

"Is that true?" Blackthorn had been quick to ask. "Could Dominus have taken Germanicus, even injured?"

"…I might have spoken out of turn," Oliver said, biting his lip. "But I can't imagine anyone losing to him. There was never a point I ever saw him struggle. Even in his last battle against… Against… He was always far too powerful. How could anyone have bested him?"

"Then, he was that much more powerful than my father…" Lady Blackthorn said thoughtfully.

"As a Sword," Oliver was quick to point out. "He was no leader of men. He didn't like it."

"Yet, ironically enough, it is his example that we all follow not, through you, my Lord," Verdant said. "Is it not his teachings that you affect the men with?"

"…I suppose that's true," Oliver said, scratching his head. "Damn it, but that doesn't solve the problem. Why have I been talked into this corner? The Minister doesn't need me. What in the name of the Gods am I to do? King Germanicus has learned to use Command as well – we've seen that. I can barely wield such a thing myself. Hod says I had only need be a Sword, but Swords don't play in the realm of Command."

"Was it Command that you defeated General Zilan with?" Verdant asked.

"No," Oliver said. "But that was a lifetime ago."

"It is not so long," Verdant said. "My Lord, I do believe that General Hod sees it as I do. He is not asking to become more than you already are. You are already that which he asks of you. You are already very well the might that he is looking for. It has already been achieved."

"…Then why can I not use it?" Oliver said. "Has it truly been achieved if I cannot wield it?"

"That is a question that I wish I knew the answer to. And a question that a good deal of our allies have already been asking," Verdant said. "Once more, my Lord, you do swim in the God's Eye. When you dwell in such a place, I see very little, only the overwhelming potential that does surround you."

Oliver heaved a sigh. "Then you miss that which I am. What about you, Lasha? Do you have any advice for me, now that I'm being thrown back into these churning waters and forced to swim? Do I never get a chance to rest?"

"We are at war," Lasha said mercilessly. "Also, you've been complaining far too much."

"Thank you—" Oliver said wearily.

"Also," Lasha said. "You're lying. You're enjoying this."

Her harsh words, as ever, had cut through the heart of the matter. They'd set Oliver on the backfoot enough that he'd carried them all the way towards Nila, to complain to her of the matter afterwards. She'd patiently listened, and gently patted his head, and then she had pointed out much the same thing, once he was relaxed enough that it seemed that nothing in the world could bother him.

She'd smiled at him, and said. "You do not need to try so hard, Oliver," Nila said. "I agree with Verdant. You are already entirely what Hod asks of you."

When she'd said it then, when Oliver's heart was nothing more than a still pool of water, the ripples that she'd managed to produce were all the more significant. He twisted his lip, and considered it again. When done so, it sounded an awful lot like the truth. Some part of him growled restlessly. There was an odd feeling of certainty, from a place that he hadn't felt before. It wasn't the Fragment of Ingolsol, nor the Fragment of Claudia. It felt far more like his own voice, his own thinking, yet given to a stirring all on its own.

He allowed it its certainly, for a good few seconds, before once more his frustration returned. "Why's everyone so certain?" Oliver said. "Even a part of me is certain! What does everyone see that I don't?"

Nila kissed his forehead to calm him. "Sssh, Oliver. There will be more fighting for us tomorrow, and more fighting for the days to come. You are best resting. These things, they will solve themselves."

So she had told him, but Oliver had still arisen early, to try and find those answers for himself, slicing through the gold air with his sword, his feet crunching in the snow beneath him. He thought of Dominus, and his might. The way he'd been so casual in inflicting it. He'd never seen the man stirred to overwhelming anger – he never needed to empower his blade like that. His might seemed the most natural thing in the world, in the way that a cascading waterfall, all knew, would sweep away whatever foolish vessel dared to sail under it.