Chapter 1986: An About Turn - Part 1

Chapter 1986: An About Turn - Part 1


Chapter 6 – An About Turn


If one had expected that General Blackthorn were to be happy with Oliver’s decision, they would have been disappointed. The General met it with the narrowed eyes of distrust, once it was announced at a meeting of their higher officers at dawn the next day.


"You would throw your plans away, you fools?" General Blackthorn said, looking for Hod, back to Oliver, and then to Hod again. "For what reason? What do you ask for from me?"


"Your cooperation in ensuring the capture of the High King," Oliver replied.


"Capture?" Blackthorn said scornfully. "I intend to raze his palace to the ground. There will be no capture."


"If we are to meet common cause, we will need you to agree to that objective," Hod said.


"I care not for your objective, nor for your common cause. I care to see his head on a stake."


"If it is reduced to ash, then you will not see that," Oliver said. "We will try the man, justly, so that the realm has a chance for light to be shed upon the many crimes that he has committed. We are not the only citizens that he has wronged."


"Nay, I’ll see it, with the end of my own sword, or with the fires that my men spread. As long as that man is dead, my objective will be achieved. If you declare you wish to fight with me, then I will listen – but only if you agree to meet my common cause," General Blackthorn said.


Oliver could feel Lasha stirring behind him, her anger swirling at her father’s difficultness. She very much wanted to jump in and tell the man to silence himself, if he wanted to keep his life. She expected very quickly that their patience was bound to run out, if matters continued as they were.


"General Blackthorn, please consider your situation," Hod said icily. "You betray your allies, and now that we have declared that we shall assist you, you slap your hands away."


"You do me no favours," Blackthorn said. "You have need of my strength. That is the only thing that brings you to this quick change in decision. Quick is indeed what it was. Weakness in the crown that you’ve put on that boy’s head. Do you think that I will ever be able to take you seriously, whilst you have him masquerading as a King?"


"There are other means of making you take us seriously," Hod said. "If you believe military might to be the best measure of a man, then we could contest you in that—"


"We need not threaten him, Hod," Oliver said, interrupting calmly.


Hod raised an eyebrow at him. Ordinarily, it would be Hod’s line to say, rather than Oliver’s, and ordinarily, Oliver would have been very much in support of strong arming an insubordinate General like that which Blackthorn was becoming.


"Wise," Blackthorn growled. "A fight would leave you more blooded than you have the stomach for, boy."


"We have all suffered in this, General Blackthorn," Oliver said. "Your grief is a natural thing."


"It is not grief I am compelled by! It is rage, boy! That you don’t feel it too tells me the truth of it. You failed that woman who relied on you – a Queen that won’t be seen again in a thousand years, and that you can sit there calmly with a smile on your face tells me all I need to know about you. You’re glad for the crown that you’ve won. You’re content and as corrupt as the High King that you intend to overthrow."


"You suffer," Oliver said. "That is the seed of your anger. Do you think we will not see the High King properly punished?"


"I do not trust you well enough to suppose anything," Blackthorn said. "You have no direction. You’re thoroughly unpredictable. We sent you away to see Queen Asabel defended, and you return wearing your crown. And then you crawl back here, surprised that old Lord Pendragon would not give you his support? Fools, the lot of you!"


"Do you intend to win?" Oliver asked. "Do you believe you can, with as many men as they’re likely to have, and with as many traps as Chief Strategist Blake and General Julius are likely to set?"


"Ha, naturally," General Blackthorn said. "I would not fight if he did not have every intention of winning."


"I think, General, you intend to die," Oliver said lightly. "I think that is why you scorn the future of the Stormfront that will follow this battle. You scorn our attempts to see the Stormfront cared for, after we have scorched it as much as we are likely to."


The General went silent. His mouth opened, and then he closed it again, and finally, he snorted. "I will not get into a war of words with you lot. A wasted game. Unnecessary. The battlefield will see it decided."


"It will see House Black extinct," Oliver said, not truly with accusation, but with sadness. "We have already lost Lord Blackwell, General. The realm can not bear to lose you as well. What would the state of the Stormfront be now, if outside forces were to invade, and you have walked freely to the grave for the grief that you carry? Do understand, General, the responsibility you have on your shoulders."


"Pah--!" The General said, flustered increasingly by the strengthening argument. "My responsibility?" He finally shouted, slamming a fist into the table. "What about you, boy! You wear the crown of the Queen I swore my life to. What of your responsibility, eh? If you aren’t fully corrupt, you had better watch every damn step that you take, and ensure that you don’t tarnish her legacy. Because, I’ll tell you something, both you and Hod, and my daughter behind you, and the Idris boy as well – you’re incapable. You can’t march her."


"On this, I am in agreement," a quiet Lord Idris said. It was the first meeting that he had attended of theirs since Queen Pendragon had died. He had only arrived the night before, intending to speak to his son, only to discover that Verdant had left a short time before. The meeting he had stomached with a stern look on his face, looking as if he would rather have been anywhere else. He contributed nothing, until he saw Lord Blackthorn backed up enough into a corner in their debate that they would lend him a hand. "You are far too incomplete to bear the crown of a King, Oliver Patrick. Unlike my compatriot there, I am not fool enough to question your intentions. I am aware of the grief that you too face, and I am aware too that I cannot blame you for her death. That you were able to avenge her at all, it speaks to your brilliance. I can see why my son serves you, and I can see why you reached for a crown to put on your head. But as much as I try, I cannot see a future in which you will be able to match the Queen that Asabel would have been."