A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1763 - 1763: Clashing Storms - Part 5

"You're boastful," Oliver said. "For a man that is so terrifyingly average."

"…Average?" King Germanicus said, his great bushy eyebrows twitching. "You can not match this creature that you call average."

"They were frightened of you when they spoke of you," Oliver said. "They said that you were removed from the Academy because you beat an instructor. They said that you're so frightening, you spent all your time fighting the beasts of the forests."

"And it be true," King Germanicus said, wearing a genuine frown of confusion. "My might knocks you back, Oliver Patrick. Who are you to declare me average?"

"I know a man of greatness far above your own," Oliver said. "Compared to him, you're nothing more than a pebble in a pond."

King Germanicus' eyes widened, and a growl arose from his throat. "Nonsense. I have sought my entire life for such a creature. Where is he? Tell me his name."

"Dominus Patrick," Oliver declared.

"A dead man," Germanicus said. "The dead can not match the might of the living."

"You could not have beaten him, even in his worst state," Oliver said.

"Misguided. The son speaks for the father," Germanicus said. Battle raged around them, but the two bickered as if they were in the dining hall of the Academy. Their argument seemed far more important to them than their fighting. Even the Minister of Blades and Gar paused to allow them it, seemingly unsure as to whether there was a good opportunity to interrupt. "If you be the son, show me then. I see nothing yet. What worth do you have to declare me average, Patrick? What know you about might, that you think you see beyond me?"

"You're an insult," Oliver said. "To all those that have chased the blade. You seek nothing but might for might's sake. Might without a purpose has no meaning."

"Then what of you?" Germanicus said. "You worshippers of Claudia, you do exactly that, do you not? You pursue progress merely for progress's sake. You call it a different name, but we pursue the same thing."

"No," Oliver said. "Progress is not that. For the lowly, perhaps you would say it to be so. But progress is not gained so cold-heartedly. Progress is not so separate from the world itself. We do not force progress, like you force might, by crushing all and declaring yourself. We do not force progress, we find progress, as the stream finds the softest route. We give ourselves to its cause, and its glory, and its suffering. Progress burns us, and shapes us. Progress is that which is found only when there is sufficient meaning."

"Pah," Germanicus said. "Religious doctrine, the height of nonsense. Might is the right of certain creatures. We are born into it. We perform our duty in being it."

"Such creatures are trapped by their birth, then," Oliver said.

"You are trapped in the confines of the rivers that you so worship!" King Germanicus told him, finding his anger, as he pointed his warhammer Oliver's way.

"A man makes willing sacrifice towards those rivers, for causes nobler than himself. For reasons beyond himself," Oliver said. "These are the words of Dominus Patrick. These are his teachings. You found might in the forest. Dominus Patrick found wisdom. You rode the waves of your natural strength, and enjoyed all it gave to you. Dominus Patrick suffered, as poison ate away his body, and weakness was given to him. Dominus Patrick found strength. You were given it."

"YOU KNOW ME NOT!" King Germanicus declared, rushing Oliver with his hammer.

Oliver ducked the sweeping blow that came from overhead. He expected the kick that followed it, but even as he twisted out of the way, he found he couldn't block it entirely. It still carried him off his feet, only without the destructive force that it otherwise would have had.

The Minister of Blades tried to rush King Germanicus from the side, but the King had found his anger. His hammer bloodied itself on all who dared to get in his way. It swept through the crowd of men fighting to either side of them, as the southern wall underwent its usual wrestling match from position, and then it came crash down on the Minister of Blades, ringing the top of his sword, and sending him flying back into the crowd of men that fought to either side of them.

Gar managed to get closer. That he was right in front of King Germanicus before the King knew he was there brought just a flicker of surprise to the King's face, amidst his burning rage, but the thrust that Gar tried didn't manage to get through. The King swatted him away as well, loosening his grip on his hammer, allowing it to fall, so that he could deliver a backhand towards Gar. The young man danced out of the way of it, but quickly the crowd of fighting men surged in front of him, and he was unable to make anything of the follow up attack.

Oliver forgot himself as he stood there, his teeth clenched, feeling the battlefield swirling around him, feeling that flow that he had seen built up in so many battles since his training with Dominus. He had to acknowledge that he was quite firmly on the backfoot. King Germanicus had already cultivated several steps of advantage for himself. Whatever attack Oliver threw at him would easily be changed into a counterattack. He was a creature that it was nearly impossible to confront dead on.

Yet Dominus would have managed in Oliver's position, Oliver was sure of it. Even with Oliver's measly strength, he would have been able to find away. It was not simply overwhelming might that had made Dominus Patrick who he was. His technique had been overwhelming as well. Everything was sharper, effortless and efficient. His was a devotion to martial intent that bordered on insanity. None could match the level of that discipline – certainly not King Germanicus, who had been born with such a strength that he never would have needed to.