A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1886 - 1886: Blessings and Curses - Part 3

They did not move, they said naught, but Oliver could feel those threads of Command building, that closing of the gap between the two of them. They had presented the strings in which he could pull to govern them as he would govern them and army, and with Ingolsol's well practised hand, he'd reached out and snatched them.

"This was not a battle between enemies," Oliver continued. "This was a battle for honour. The men that died here today, Tavar and Germanicus, and all you soldiers along with us. You are brothers, know that. Those that died deserve only the highest of respect, for they died in order to fulfil the promises asked of them by honour."

He continued, his tone growing ever so slightly harsher, as with his words, he slowly coiled the fingers of his gauntlet into a harsh fist. "With their death comes the fulfilling of that promise. However, it does not mean the end of our battle. There is a source of this conflict, and you soldiers know very well what it is. You know very well the justice that we aim to inflict, in the name of Queen Asabel. And now you see our seriousness – you see it when we must strike down even Kings when they get in our way. After today, do any of you men doubt that our swords can reach the neck of the High King?"

As Oliver spoke, those Treeant men came forward. Not in an organised sort of fashion, but more as the parting of a crowd, and the moving forward of the sea. The Ernest allies bristled as their enemy came to them, fully armed, but even as he continued his speech, Oliver motioned his hand to them dismissively, and the Patrick soldiers took his meaning, and made efforts that further fighting did not break out.

For it was already done. It was not the Treeant men that Oliver was speaking to. Without even yet having finished asking it of them, they were already ready to fight once more for this cause – the cause that had seen their King killed. A cause that many of them, even before the war had begun, found themselves sympathising with. It was only their duty to their King that had sent them in other directions, but the Treeant men had a duty that they held higher than all that, and that was their duty to follow strength.

As Oliver continued his talking, the Treeant position was made obvious, as they turned to face the remaining men of Tavar's army. No longer as the allies that they had once seen. They made it clear, by standing shoulder to shoulder with Patrick and Blackthorn men.

"You know that we do treat our hostages well, even when our battles are won, we have held to our honour. You see that in the weakness that your General leveraged, in seeking to liberate our Emerson captives. Men that we could have slain," Oliver said. "And in knowing so, you feel the quickness in throwing down your weaponry, knowing very well, on the principles of honour we do uphold, that you will not be killed for it. However – having fought against you, and come to respect you, and the men that lead you, I would be immensely disappointed if you would make that choice out of fear. For what else could it be but cowardice that would have you refuse our cause now? Even knowing where Tavar himself stood, only bound to his post by the honour of his House, and not the justice of his cause."

He stirred them into an anger that made them grip their swords all the more tightly. Oliver had to stifle a laugh, seeing the ferocity grow in them. He knew he would not be winning their hearts anytime soon, but then, he didn't have to. He'd thrown that away from the start. There was another man, a better man, who could take advantage of what he had already sewn. Indeed, there were two of them, in Hod and in Blackthorn.

Oliver had simply withdrawn, trusting it to the two of them. Hod had given him the nod. At the very least, he'd created the impossible situation in which an enemy soldier might be turned ally, when logic would otherwise have pointed to that being more than unlikely. He left them to their own devices, and he was informed, not an hour ago, that they'd found their success.

"It is Minister Hod that they bind themselves to," Verdant had told him. "Correctly, I think, they have nominated him as Tavar's successor."

"Indeed," Oliver said. "There was no other that Tavar held closer to a true born son than that of Hod. Though I think the Minister will think it a strangeness, to go from a man who had never set foot on a battlefield, to holding seventeen thousand men entirely of his own."

To strike while the iron was hot. To turn that impossible disadvantage into the greatest advantage that could be mustered. For those weeks of siege and harsh battle to not only allow them to eliminate one of the greatest threats – if not the greatest threat – to their cause against the High King, in the combined armies of Germanicus and Tavar, but for the outcome of that battle to instead of seen the number of their army grow, and strengthen. That was fortune, and that was the very turn of fates that they needed, in order to keep their hopes of seeing their campaign turned into a total victory.

Now, there was giddiness amongst the men, just like the giddiness they had seen in Greeves. They had started to say, after all, were they not already the full way there? They had defeated Tavar, and they hadn't lost strength in the process, they'd only gained it. Now they had only need find Tiberius, root him out, and defeat him with the combined strength of all their armies, and victory would be right there for the taking.

They were right to feel optimistic. It was an optimism that Oliver himself was feeling, to the point that he'd forgotten how to carry himself entirely in front of the likes of a Prince. He'd arrived in the state he was in, with bloodied armour, and torn surcoat, and filth decorating his entire face, and he'd neglected to even keep his concentration entirely on the Prince in front of him. Now Hendrick was suspicious, for the emotions Oliver showed were hardly those of a man that had just endured a hard battle.