A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

He turned to look at both men, somehow holding them both within his gaze at the same time, despite their seats a distance away from each other. "I do not believe you both to have raised fools. I know the Blackthorn's to be military men. You did not detest Dominus Patrick, as many did, did you? You recognized strength for what it was, did you not?"

"His ability was sound," Lord Blackthorn said, his voice deep and resounding as he broke the rule that Oliver had assumed – that the crowd was not allowed to speak. "As a Sword, he was remarkable."

Oliver noted the distinction today between Sword and General. Lord Blackthorn was a General – he seemed to place great emphasis on the fact that Dominus was a sword. They were two different sorts of powers. Oliver hadn't heard the expression before, not until Hod had set it out in front of him, but it made a considerable degree of sense.

"If Oliver Patrick were to surpass his father's talents, do you not think it conceivable that your daughter would be interested in the source of such strength, as the daughter of a military family?" Hod asked.

Lord Blackthorn's eyes widened, as though he'd never considered such a thing, and he shifted uncomfortably. "That is not a woman's work…" Oliver noted that the man did not seem to have brought his wife with him, not like Lord Gargon.

"Ah," Hod smiled. "There we see again the head of tradition. Do we not use tradition as a shield, gentlemen, even as we discard it? Lord Blackthorn, it is a woman's work to gather intelligence, is it not? As has always been so. If she has taken that intelligence for her own use, to sharpen her skill with the blade, as you seem to assume, then I would call that admirable, would you not?"

Blackthorn held no answer from that. He shook his head bullishly. Hod could see that he would make no way for the man, and so despite having not convinced him, he was satisfied with that early attack, and he turned to Lord Idris instead. "Lord Idris. Your son Verdant is a remarkable sort. You must have a great deal of faith in him."

"Less than I did," Idris replied dryly. There were a few chuckles of amusement at that, though it seemed clear that the man was not making a joke. Read new adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

"Is that so?" Hod said, seeming disappointed. "He has done remarkable work here at the Academy, despite his lowly position. He has guided many who were lost, and they are on better roads for it. For such a young man, he has a remarkable wealth of wisdom. That should not displease you, should it?"

"Not at all," Idris said, with a wave of his hand. "Intelligence is never a thing that Verdant lacked. Though he chooses to enact it in rather… creative ways. His seemingly impulsive decisions have caused more problems than his intelligence has solved."

"You mean, joining the ranks of the Bohemothian priests?" Hod asked.

"What few ranks of those there are, indeed," Idris said, to more chuckles, though the man delivered it with a stony face, even Hod cracked a smile. "He refuses a seat that is rightfully his, despite his ability. I appreciated your earlier speech, Minister, a speech that my son ought to have given heed to.

It is the younger generation, those of talent and ability, that will defend our gates against the obstacles to come. Verdant is one such individual – he shies away from that duty."

Hod smiled. "Then we are in agreement, Lord Idris, for I must also reiterate that I believe your son to be a most capable man."

The Minister of Logic let his words hang in the air, as he continued to hold Lord Idris' gaze. Idris remained quiet for a long moment, before he gave a slow nod. "I see what it is you are saying, Minister."

That was good enough for Hod, for he turned away. "Then, prepare to bring in the people in question themselves, I suppose."

The very instant the Minister said such a thing aloud, the two of them – Lady Blackthorn and Verdant Idris – appeared in front of the open doorway to the entrance hall, led by guards. They did not seem to have been reacting to Hod's instruction. It seemed more like Hod had timed what he said perfectly, and perfect it was indeed.

The two of them shared a look – the priest, and the Lady – as they were brought together by two separate parties of guards, and directed along the pathway into the Minister's Hall. Through that look there seemed to pass some sort of understanding.

It was always impossible to tell quite what Lady Blackthorn was feeling – or even Verdant, for that matter – but the slight relaxing of her shoulders could have been interpreted, at least in part, as a sign of relief from a familiar face.

They did not stiffen as they noticed the weight of the crowd gathered. Verdant calmly cast his piercing blue gaze over them, pausing just for a moment, despite the prodding of the guards that led him. He seemed to take it all in.

His eyes glanced over at his father, and he considered the man for a moment, before looking even further into the room and towards the stoney hand in which Oliver was imprisoned.

Even from that distance, from the way the priest carried himself, it was as though he could read the emotion written on Oliver's face, as he sat, half hidden by darkness, as fragments of sunlight strained to make it through the window, and then through the stoney bars of his unique cell. The priest, if anything, seemed pleased.

He gave the slightest bow of respect – a gesture that did not go unnoticed amongst the crowd.

Lady Blackthorn was forced to wait as the priest performed his surveying. She too looked across the crowd, though her eyes didn't take in nearly as much, she still saw the large figure of her father sitting amongst the crowd, and she saw the thunder of his face.

Seeing him, her mask wavered ever so slightly, until she managed to comport herself, raising her head back up and balancing herself perfectly, as a highborn lady should be expected to.