A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"I feel as if we must make other plans, though I do not know which," Verdant admitted. "This is not my area of expertise. Our supposition is that you will be drafted into the war against Verna in the East, once Blackwell's campaign is renewed. Your allies should be warned of such an occurrence before it takes place, but as far as preparations, I once again state that I am unsure."

"There is likely something that we are overlooking, but if you would send word to Queen Asabel through your father, I would appreciate it," Oliver said.

"My father will appreciate the warning as well," Verdant said. "Without your knowing it, you've become a strange balancing piece in the power complexes that he is now involved in…"

"Mm," Oliver said, realizing something. "I might need to raise more men."

"For what purpose… Ah, you mean, you intend to take your three hundred eastwards, and thus for an extended period there will be no one to protect Solgrim," Verdant said. "Indeed, that will be an issue."

Typically, when Oliver went on his raiding missions, he simply brought two hundred and fifty of his men, and left another fifty behind to defend the village. Against most attacks, that would be sufficient to hold the walled settlement for a while, and then Oliver and his men could return and deal with whatever they had been unable to deal with.

As far as Yarmdon attacks went, they hadn't seen any. A single party had been spotted on the horizon once, with a looking glass. Those men had taken note of the walled town with surprise, and then promptly disappeared back westwards, towards the sea and the open shores.

"Mm, I will wish for a hundred men behind," Oliver said. "I'll have to leave some men of my own to train them, however. Either way, it seems as if I'm going to be missing some of my force of three hundred."

He sighed despite himself. He'd put much effort into training those men. They yielded his commands perfectly now. They were as strong as any Stormfront force could claim to be, but more importantly, they fit Oliver's style of combat like a glove, and they could be more receptive to his Command than any new troop was likely to be.

"If coin is no longer an issue, perhaps we could get Academy recruits?" Verdant said. "Or perhaps you might use this as an opportunity…"

"An opportunity for what?" Oliver asked.

"Cavalry, perhaps?" Verdant said. "I'm in agreement with Greeves on this point, after all. Change, even negative change, ought to bring with it opportunity, if one changes their perspective to see it."

"Fifty cavalrymen… that could be useful," Oliver said, unconsciously thinking back to the Battle of Fort Macalister. From the look on Verdant's face, he could tell that the man was thinking that too.

"Many of your battles will likely be sieges, I do think, but there ought to be more than enough field battles to make use of some cavalry," Verdant said. "Just like there were back then…"

There was a hint of regret in the voice. Even though it had been a stunning victory, they could not forget how hard fought it had been, and how close to defeat they'd wandered. It was not the sort of thing that you could replicate again.

"Still, opportunity, huh?" Oliver said, breaking them out of the revelry of the past. "These missions that the High King has given me. All the opportunities that they provide have all but dried up."

"Indeed. Your men are trained, your reputation is far better than it was in the past. You have wealth to the point that it is no longer a worry and you have your strength and your health," Verdant said. "Why, even as I say that, does it not sound like enough?"

"Because it isn't, Verdant," Oliver said. The resin-filled wood burning in the fire popped as he said so, letting loose a loud timely crack. "We're still in this position, where we must plot, for there is the strong looming over us."

"You wish to climb higher, my Lord?" Verdant said. There wasn't mere curiosity in his tone, it was worry. There was genuine concern, as if he could see what the future held in store.

"It is all that remains," Oliver said. "The peace has ended. A battle that is hard-fought, against a man that ought to have been one of my most stalwart of allies, and three years of peace is all that it buys me."

He clenched his fist, the bitterness etched on his face. "High King, Lord, even the Gods themselves, to jab at me for as long as that man has done… It has built a rage that I am unsure I know how to handle. You seemed to think earlier, just for a moment, that my anger had faded. I can not imagine anything further from the truth. Even as a sla—No, even at my lowest, I have never felt this starved.

I have never even laid eyes on this foe, yet he's been there in every corner, waiting to make my life more difficult."

"The Sea God rages as well," Verdant said, closing his eyes. "I have communed with my Fragment, and we share the same opinion. This sea is stormy, my Lord, rest assured. If it is havoc you wish to wreak, we shall bring it."

"A woman, Verdant," Oliver said. "That was what Talon said this was all over."

"I know, my Lord," Verdant said. Oliver had told him many times before, but Oliver still couldn't come to terms with it.

"Jealousy over a woman. Just what did he do?" Oliver said that aloud. No one had confirmed the answer over it, but Oliver had his guesses. It would not have been an act of justice, whatever it was.

No matter how they searched, no one wished to tell them the truth of the matter. Talon was as close as they'd come, and now Talon was dead.

Verdant stood, and moved to pour the hot water from the whistling kettle. The action was more to still his pounding heart than anything else. When Oliver spoke, Verdant felt more and more that his feelings became wound up. It was a Commander's voice – every line that he spoke with a passion had the means to invoke that same passion in someone else.

Verdant knew his Lord to be a dangerous man, even more so than before. He'd begun to wield a charisma that was unheard of, save from Generals.