A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1814 - 1814: The Freedom to Move - Part 2

For there was a task asked of him, the more dangerous of tasks, in the likes of Emperor Tiberius. Karstly and Skullic had been defeated so handedly by him, and even Hod knew to fear him. He was a foe that needed all of Blackwell's efforts to defeat. That was his duty. He'd spent a good portion of the last decade in a war, of one form of another, and he had to bet on that experience. He had to bet – and hope that – in his time in captivity, Tiberius had grown rusty.

Now, every second of his effort went further than that, in ensuring that they could bring about victory against him. They knew him to be hiding away in the Skreen, though it was unlikely that he'd remain there long. The man had demonstrated an ability to move his men that went beyond being quiet – he practically seemed to vanish. After all, Karstly was not a man that was easy to sneak up upon.

With the fullest of their strength, Blackwell intended to confront him himself. With Karstly, Skullic and General Broadstone at his side. Four generals together, four different strategies to contend with, and he had to believe that even the likes of Tiberius would grow hard of head attempting to keep up. No – he'd make that true.

He felt alive, now that he had a purpose to dedicate himself to. He inspected the men that were put before him with an enthusiasm. They'd been allowed to rest, finally, after so long on the march, and they'd had a good couple of weeks of it. When he looked over his men – for it was his personal force that he intended to bring – he was more than satisfied. They were in the best condition he could ask for of them. They were fit, and they were confident, fresh off all those victories that had been secured. They were ready for more violence, and they had every belief that where Karstly's men had failed, they would succeed.

So it was, with a further five thousand men, Blackwell determined that he would march down to the west, leaving Rainheart and ten thousand soldiers to keep the Pendragon lands secure in his place. And the sooner that he got to marching, the better Blackwell was likely to feel. He'd done all he could in terms of his preparations. He'd seen the supplies readied, and he'd had his men check through them, and he'd drilled the soldiers to test them even further. The were beyond ready. Anything more would be to repolish an already shining button. Now was the time to strike, while the iron was hot, and the feeling was with him – and that day, Queen Asabel was at last in the Capital, so that Blackwell could announce his intentions to her.

He found her not in her room, but in the offices that had once belonged to the previous King. She was thumbing through paperwork, with Lord Idris peering over her shoulder, answering any questions that she might have had, before she forced her royal seal down on the parchment.

The door was wide open, and there were a good few attendants rushing around busying themselves, collecting books and putting them back on the many shelves that decorated that broad room. They spied Blackwell, but the General still made a point of knocking on the door before he entered.

Queen Asabel and Lord Idris glanced up as one. Asabel had that determined expression on her face, the one that Blackwell had seen so much of from her lately. It brought him delight every time he saw it. There was a sovereign ready to see it through to the end, ready to confront this war of theirs with as much energy as he was – no, even more so. She was ready to bear the burden of rule, even after the war was done.

"Lord Blackwell," Asabel greeted him. "I understand you will be intending to leave us shortly."

Blackwell was not surprised that she'd seen through him. He glanced at the Minister of Coin next to her, and knew very well that it would be his information that she was going on. After all, it was not hard to miss, with how much Blackwell had needed to ready, and the fact that he had been drilling his men.

"Indeed, your Majesty. By your leave, I would embark come nightfall, with my five thousand men. I leave matters of defence to Rainheart. He has been briefed, and we have seen to it that the key fortresses are well-stocked. You will not find yourself to be weak in your absence."

"I know very well that I won't be," Queen Asabel said, pushing the papers in front of her off to the side, and giving him the fullest of her attention. "This Tiberius – he's a mighty foe, no?"

"Mighty indeed," Blackwell said.

"Explain his might to me in terms that I can understand, for you know that I have no familiarity with the battlefield," Queen Asabel said.

"Let's see…" Blackwell said, thinking on it. "You are aware of why our victory over the Emersons was a grand thing?"

"Oliver's victory? Why, certainly, because he was outnumbered ten to one," Queen Asabel said.

"Against competent Generals, men of experience too," Blackwell added. "It would be one thing to cull a barbarian horde with no organization with those kinds of numbers. Indeed, it would be expected of a General of the Stormfront to be able to do such a thing."

"I see," Asabel said. "Then..?"

"Then Tiberius is the sort of man that can pull off such a victory, not just against experienced Generals, but against the very best Generals that the Stormfront has to offer," Blackwell said. "He is, in short, an anomaly that should not be."

"Really? He's that overwhelming?" Queen Asabel said, her eyes going wide. "I suppose it makes sense that you would use four of our Generals in order to confront him then…"

"What we lack in numerical superiority, we make up for in the quality of our leadership, Your Majesty. Such has been the case since this war started. We are fortunate to have many competent Generals on our side," Blackwell said.