A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Approach, Lady Blackthorn, Lord Idris," Hod said, pointedly ignoring Verdant's title as a member of the priesthood, and invoking his noble title instead – a title that he had since abandoned a man of the cloth. Verdant didn't look particularly offended by the oversight.

His movements were purposeful, as he took the lead ever so slightly, bringing them towards the centre of the hall, at the bottom of the Minister's steps, in the same spot that had shaken Gargon so thoroughly.

The two of them regarded the Ministers respectfully, they gave stronger bows, as should be expected of them. Lord Gargon had neglected such actions, but the priest Verdant was not one to make such an oversight. With him there, there was no chance of Lady Blackthorn forgetting either.

Their gesture was met with mixed reactions. Tavar nodded his approval, as did Lazarus, albeit begrudgingly. Jolamire pretended that he hadn't seen it. Experience exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire

"Welcome," Hod said again, bringing away the ritualistic tension as they carried out the formalities expected of them. "I expect that you know why we are here," he gave a casual point towards Oliver, who sat straight and attentively, on his very base behaviour, his face a mask of calm.

"I do," Verdant said firmly.

Lady Blackthorn nodded in turn. When given an opportunity not to speak, she would more often than not take it.

"Then, I shall ask a simple set of questions, merely to establish an understanding that I feel the previous witness called by my fellow Minister failed to form. Your relationship with Oliver Patrick would be a start. There are some who accuse him of using blackmail to force you into his service.

They claim that his reputation is unlikely to be of the sort that would attract such fine and upstanding members of noble society such as yourselves," Hod said. He seemed to be enjoying himself, playfully toying with the question, knowing that he'd already countered Jolamire and Lazarus as perfectly as could be expected for the opening act.

"Well, those are indeed egregious claims," Verdant said, shifting himself so that he could address at once the crowd and at once Hod himself. Hod gave a slight nod, indicating some form of approval. "The Oliver Patrick that I serve is not a man I was forced to serve out of mere blackmail.

Unless, Minister, you would label talent itself as a blackmail, for I suppose, one could argue, that in some forms it might be. When I see the future in an individual, and potential, my good conscience blackmails me into supporting them – it urges me not to miss such a potent opportunity."

"An amusing point," Hod said, smiling lightly, though he still held a fierceness in his eyes, and didn't seem willing to commit entirely to any sort of joke. "Then you would say it was altruistic means that motivated you into the service of Oliver Patrick? You saw potential in him, and so you decided that, for the good of the Stormfront, you would do your best to support him?"

"Oh, heavens no, good Minister," Verdant said. "Not at all. The people gathered here today – the same people that engage in such slanderous rumours about my good Lord – seem to be under some sort of fatal misunderstanding. They seem to believe that it is Oliver Patrick who has secured some sort of one-sided trade in my swearing of fealty to him.

To those people, I must express that they are very much mistaken. No matter what I do for my Lord, it will always be I that is on the most favourable end of this bargain."

Hod eyed Lord Idris in the crowd. "Lord Idris. What do you make of such a remark?"

Idris looked unmoved. "I would tell my son as I've often told him, that his wittery makes no impression on me. It is all very well and good to say something with passion, but the men of importance in this world deal in facts. It seems you've wasted your time, Minister, my son continues to speak the same fanciful things that relegated him years ago."

"Do you agree with your father's sentiment, Verdant? The fate of your Lord hinges upon it," Hod pressed. "If he merely is a master made through blackmail, then you should have no reason to defend him. But if he isn't… His position would be dubious if you failed to convince your own father."

Verdant glanced at the man, and stifled a sigh. He knew that the Minister was right, but it didn't make his task any easier. When it came to his father, he seemed to lose all trace of the calm that normally permeated his existence. He simply couldn't see eye to eye with the man.

The disappointment that he saw on his father's face every time they conversed echoed the own disappointment that Verdant felt that his father – a man that he had idolized since a boy, and deeply respected – could not understand him.

"Father," Verdant said. "I serve Oliver Patrick of my own volition. I believe his strength to be era-defining. I do not think I am incorrect in my judgement that he will shape this country more than anyone has shaped it in hundreds of years."

His statement brought murmurs of dissent from the audience. They didn't like that kind of statement, especially not about a man that they almost collectively disliked. They wouldn't even have enjoyed such a statement about a man that they did like – for the kind of power Verdant spoke of was terrifying. It implied change, and change was the enemy of nobility.

Change threatened their position, and the position of their families, built up over hundreds of years.

As Verdant tamed his speech, and made it more logical, it seemed to at least invite a different sort of reaction from his father. It was not exactly an excitement, not one of agreement, but perhaps, at most, it might have been passing interest. He looked towards Oliver Patrick, as he sat within that cage that he'd been placed.

He caught the way the youth turned his head, and stared back at him, with the same way that a cat stared back at a bird – without a shred of fear.