A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 846: Building Back - Part 5

"I know not," Verdant said. "Only that it was gigantic. It surfaced out of the water, as a great black shadow, and the second its tail hit our ship, the vessel was split in two. A poor situation for a man like me – I've never been a particularly great swimmer."

"And yet you lived, where others perished," Oliver said. "I wonder why that is…"

"I know not that either. I have considered it, many times over. It was odd, I did not fear death, when it finally came, yet I had feared it before then. What I felt was merely disappointment. I had such great plans, and so many ambitions, and I was to die before any ever saw fruition. So I struggled, and Behomothia recognized that struggle.

He gave me the strength I needed to live.

"So you understand, then?" Oliver said. "To do what you ask of me, their souls will be laid bare. They'll be forced to look at things that ordinary men shouldn't have to consider."

"I understand your fear in that as well," Verdant said. "But there is one thing that allows a man to splunking to untold depths."

"A rope?" Oliver said, half in jest. The heaviness of the discussion had got to him, and the opportunity to make a quip was a welcome one.

To his surprise, though, Verdant merely nodded. "Indeed – rope. Men aim both inwardly and outwardly. They need a rope, and a ladder. Some things can serve both purposes. A wife, or a family to lend stability, and give grounding to a deep-diving or high-flying man.

A group of close friends to do the same. Some find it in belief, and others find it in ideals. You, my Lord, have the capacity to be such an ideal. You can be the light that your men can return to. You can offer them salvation and hope. You need only trust in them and trust in yourself."

Th𝗲 most uptodate novels are published on ƒгeewёbnovel.com.

"The one becomes two," Oliver said, biting his lip. "Two impossible asks, Verdant. I would need an impossibly high opinion of myself to entertain even one of those things."

"Not at all, my Lord. You had only need an accurate evaluation," Verdant said. "Perhaps you might trust in my eyes that you yourself have often praised so highly."

Oliver quietened. To have his own words used against him was a cruel blow indeed. It was so late into the early morning, that the tiredness was beginning to assert itself even over the adrenaline caused by his mistake. It was not exactly the optimal state of mind to be dealing with such questions.

"Arthur was that," Verdant told him. "He was an ideal that many men held to, without aspiring towards it himself. The men around him grew, and he was a great leader, even without being a true General. The nature of his natural charisma empowered their belief in him and their belief in themselves. But, it seems to me that Arthur the symbol, and Arthur the man were two very different people.

You need not change who you are, or become something else. You ought merely to allow your men to see you as something beyond that which you are."

"Complicated, and vague," Oliver said, "I don't have the first idea how to address that."

"You do not have to. You do it already, without noticing. I merely mention it, so that you can have faith in your men's ability to pull through. After all, they do not need to progress alone. Their Captain will be with them, watching them, and encouraging them," Verdant said. "Bet on the steps that you have already taken, my Lord.

I have faith that they will bring us victory."

Oliver closed his eyes, and sighed, tapping his finger against the table. The way he saw it, he had no other option. Strategically, he could never best the enemy General, not with so few men. If he made it to the gate with his oil cart, and did all he imagined doing, even that would not be enough. Verdant was right, he needed something that the enemy could not predict, and progress was that thing.

Yet dare he? Oliver asked himself. He'd seen the potential in Nila, and in Blackthorn. A little extra of a push, and they might break through themselves. That was enough to turn the whole tide of battle. It wasn't even a Boundary Break that they needed to get growth out of their men either, just as the slaves had proven.

The men who weren't so close to receiving a Blessing could still evolve, in their own sort of ways.

Indeed, what else was there? He'd taken too many risks, made too many foolish decisions, why not merely take a step back, and consider that which he'd always put his faith in, just as Dominus had? Why ought he not to operate from a domain that he at least knew?

Yet this too was a risk. A terrifying, horrible risk. It made his heart churn, and his knees feel weak. It was a painfully debilitating feeling. He felt like a young boy again, even younger than he was, stripped of all his power. He felt bared before the Gods.

What had happened to that confidence that he'd set out with? That assurance in his own strength? That had disappeared far too quickly for his liking. It was a will to move faster than he currently had the ability to be moving, and he'd been caught up in it, hypnotised by it, and now as soon as he'd hit an obstacle that he could not move with that confidence, he'd been brought low.

With his eyes closed, following Verdant's urging, he could finally dream of victory once more. It was a plan that could work, if all went perfectly, but it would be a miracle if it did. It was a thoroughly irresponsible thing to bet on. Oliver's every instinct urged him to withdraw somewhere for a few days, or even a week, and reconsider their situation, to come up with a better strategy.

The moment, whoever, was relentless. They didn't have a day, or a week – they barely had a few hours. Oliver knew just as well as any that his army was on the brink of falling apart. Tomorrow would likely be the last day that his men could fight properly, without their morale beginning to dip. He had to make a decision before the sun came up.