A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1913: Tears of the Gods - Part 2

That Queen Asabel had ended up on a battlefield at all. That should not have happened. What was being thought of, to allow her to come so close? Oliver came perilously close to blaming Blackwell, but then, as naturally as a river flowing into the sea, the finger of accusation once more rested squarely on him. If only he had been stronger, so that he might protect what was important to him.

That same fact that had haunted him throughout his short life. His own lacking strength, his own inability to keep safe that which was dear to him. If he had been stronger, none of it would have come about, not a single moment.

And there was this... This that was beyond comprehension. Not only a slaying, but a torture. Something of the most inhuman realms. Done by a creature that... Oliver did not even know to begin describing the sort of creature that had seen it done.

He heard the clamour of battle from behind him, and vaguely was he aware that an enemy force was making their way down the hill.

"Asabel..." Oliver said, even the name now evoking pain from him. He’d begged for her forgiveness, but now too he offered her thanks. "I never did properly thank you, for all the times you have seen me cured, and looked after... I wish your efforts had been directed somewhere else, upon a more deserving man, that could have served you properly."

"Self-indulgence," Ingolsol’s voice licked through, disgusted. As clear as it had been in times past. Right there, as if the Dark God was leaning on Oliver’s shoulder. "You sit here, in your little ball of pity. You take the blame for yourself, and you condemn yourself, but you don’t move. Self-indulgence, Vessel, that’s all that is. I agree – you’re responsible for this. For all of this. Every dead body here, it rests on your head. You could have saved them all, but you failed, didn’t you? And now you’re going to meekly sit here and ask for forgiveness? They won’t forgive you. Look at the pain on their faces. That suffering isn’t something you forgive."

"..." Oliver was silent. He had no arguments. Nor was Claudia’s voice forthcoming in his defence. For all the pain that Oliver felt, it was Ingolsol that walked the most freely, as if he was in charge.

A man with a towering crown on his head, and a mighty present, hair long and black, and eyes full of gold. He was there, not just on Oliver’s shoulder, but right in front of him, blocking out his view of the heads.

"Pathetic Vessel," he said. "You understand you must die for what you’ve done?"

"...I understand," Oliver said.

"You understand that your death cannot be an easy one?" Ingolsol said. "You understand that there is still one solace that you can offer them, do you not?"

"...Tiberius."

"The man that killed them. The creature that saw them ridiculed, and maimed. Your allies. Allies of the Vessel of Ingolsol," the Fragment said. "Perhaps you might be able to die with that indignity, but I cannot. You failed, but you still have a duty. You sit here, in self-indulgence, and you add to your sins. You shirk your duty."

"...I do," Oliver said, feeling something begin to stir.

"There is a justice to be done," Ingolsol said, his voice melding with something else, just for a second, as he spoke the word justice. His hair flashing briefly to silver, and his eyes to purple. "You’re pathetic. But you have a duty."

Once more, Claudia’s refrain came with the word duty.

"I do..."

"There’s a monster that exists," Claudia’s words entirely now, and the woman herself. Her eyes both kindly, and stern, like that of a mother disciplining her child.

"A bastard that has stepped up above his station," Ingolsol said. "A false Emperor, that steals our crown."

"Justice," the two of them said together.

Oliver stood, his boiling anger outweighing his sadness. It was the only thing he knew, the only coping mechanism he had against that immense pain. For as long as the anger burned, he could move. He could find his feet again, even as a broken man, knowing eventually, the fire would run out, and he’d be left even more vulnerable than before.

"Lord Blackwell, for your assistance throughout the years. For guiding me, and protecting me during my time at the Academy. Skullic, for your teachings. Asabel, for your kindness. Broadstone, for your devotion to our cause. Karstly, for your harsh examples. To all of you, I swear I will get vengeance on the creature that brought you to such a state."

He clenched his hand, then unclenched it again. Swimming in that sea of darkness that he had woken up in, he turned his back on the heads, and distanced himself from conscious thought. Anger, that was all he needed. Enough strength to draw his blade, and fight. A single charge – that was it. It would be done with that.

Tiberius’ cavalry were streaming down the hill, and Oliver saw the crowned man amongst them, sitting right in the middle, looking gleeful. From the other end of the hill, there came an infantry, rushing down even faster, bearing Patrick banners.

Oliver recognized Verdant at their head, and then Blackthorn, and then Gar. He knew not how the battle fared atop the hill, given the rear assault that they had been dealt, but he had to trust that Hod would be able to gather their men in Oliver’s absence.

Right here and now, he had his opportunity. Tiberius had laid his trap. He knew the heads that he would place would invoke such an effect on the reinforcements that were sure to come looking for Lord Blackwell – and now, in a single stroke, he sought to see the trap closed, and the General who had ridden off by his lonesome punished for his emotional outburst.

Swiftly did Oliver see himself mounted, and he saw his sword drawn. He put his heels to Nelson, and drove him all the way to a gallop – straight for his own reinforcements, in the form of those Patrick men.