A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 893: Oliver Patrick - Part 6

"I wish to meet him," Oliver said. "I wish to go to the Capital when Blackwell is summoned, and finally get a look upon the man that has caused too much trouble."

Verdant whirled in an instant, sensing danger. "My Lord, that wouldn't be—"

But the eyes of Oliver brooked no room for argument. Lounging on the floor next to the table, he had an aura of authority now that rivalled any King. Years of winning, and years of progress had built up an immutable confidence. That confidence became another weapon that made the aged Oliver Patrick so dangerous.

The ex-priest – now a handsome man in his twenties, his dark brown hair fully grown back, and neatly kept cut short on the sides, with a little length to his fringe – gulped. As Oliver had come to understand better how to lead, Verdant had too come to understand much of the same, as his father groomed him into a proper heir. But more than learning to lead, Verdant had learned to properly follow.

He was determined to be the best retainer that he could possibly be, and he knew to do that, he ought to speak his mind, even when it was dangerous, but by the same token, he ought to do what his Lord asked of him, even if it held that same danger.

As long as it didn't go against Verdant's own morality, he was determined to do that, and yet this request was likely the most dangerous thing that Oliver had ever asked him.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

"It is possible," Verdant said finally. "But it is far from wise."

"Wisdom be damned, let me finally see him, and let him finally see me. Let him give the command, then look me in the face as he tries to strip a part of my future away from me. He thinks denying me the Passing Scroll will contain me? The man's a fool! He's merely tossing more fuel onto the fire," Oliver said. "He will send me to this foreign war, but he won't get what he wants out of it.

I've learned something Verdant, as I've battled, and I've studied strategy under Volguard – something so exceedingly obvious, but for a man with my disposition, so utterly satisfying."

"What is that, my Lord?"

"In a position of disadvantage, when all normal avenues seem to be overwritten, where life is made difficult, there is still a possibility. Subjecting the enemy to difficulty is not a death blow. There is something that overwrites difficulty, and transforms it. The Style of Overwhelm. I once saw it with my sword, but I now see it in everything that matters.

If I achieve, and I achieve, and I achieve, even the High King can not dismiss such claims. I will overwhelm him with sheer force. Send me eastwards? Fine – but you will not be able to deny me. I will insult you with achievement. There will be no hiding from it.

You will be forced to give me my accolades in front of all the Kingdom, lest they see you for the liar that you are," Oliver said.

Verdant was stunned by the passion. Indeed, any that had thought that Oliver had grown tamer, as he managed to reign in his anger were to be labelled as fools. Verdant too thought he ought to wear that same label. Oliver's anger hadn't abated, he'd merely forged it into something even more terrifying.

Even speaking levelly as Oliver was, his very will exerted a pressure on the entire room, as if he was forcing it all to kneel.

"You'll… follow the military conduct, then?" Verdant said, clarifying. "You mean to secure achievements in the conventional sense?"

The Stormfront military system was a meritorious one, as befitted a nation that had been brought up through war, just as the Yarmdon had. In a war on behalf of the crown, it would be the High King himself who issued the rewards. Such rewards included lands, titles, and more often than not military rank.

The military ranks given by the High King were universal, demanding that any army their bearer served in would be treated as his rank dictated. They were the only true ranks in the Stormfront. Those that bore ranks in Lord's armies, but did not have the official title were not legally allowed to be called what their ranks were. It was a loose law that many neglected, but a law all the same.

"He'll be forced to give me power himself," Oliver said with a malicious smile. "I'll back him into a corner, just as he has backed me into one. We've already seen the limits of his ability to contain my victories. Even if he can stifle one or two, should I be consistent, then the truth will come out, and he will be forced to acknowledge it."

"An impossible thing for most to try," Verdant said. "It would be like reversing the current of a river. But with your strength, my Lord, I do believe you to be capable of it. If any should be, it ought to be you. With enough victories, even the boundary presented by the absence of the Passing Scroll would be undone."

"So we are in agreement, and I state my want once more. I wish to be in the Capital when he gives the declaration. I'll have the man see himself my determination. I'll make him look me in the eye, as he attempts to inconvenience me," Oliver said.

"It will be stirring the hornet's nest, my Lord," Verdant warned. "If something were to happen…"

"The nest has been stirred for long enough. If he does more than what he is already doing, then such movements will be reckless, and they will work to our benefit," Oliver said. "I fear him not. He may be gleeful in the attainment of this new opportunity, but he's already made too many mistakes. He's let me live for far too long. His chances are over."