A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 910: The Castle Town of Valance - Part 8

Those words that had been so difficult for him to say, they must have meant much for his young heir, for Verdant's fist was clenched in a quivering fist, and he made his reply before he could work to level his voice. "Thank you, father! I shall win you those achievements, in my Lord's name."

The Idris Lord could only favour his son with a last quiet nod. He wished to say no more. He wanted a return of order. With Lord Blackthorn steaming a fury as hot as a smith's forge, though, that return of order seemed to be unlikely.

"Your daughter, Lord Blackthorn, she awaits your response," Lancelot said, on behalf of Queen Asabel.

"No," Lord Blackthorn said, furiously and stubbornly. "I've allowed you your games, but you go too far. You'll break your mother's heart."

"Father," Lady Blackthorn said. "I ask your permission only out of courtesy. I'm going, whether you wish it or not. You did not believe that I could be anything more than a trainee of the sword – and yet I have surpassed both Brodlick and Fallem. They're nearly ten years older than I – and I've surpassed them all the same."

"Boastful words," Blackthorn warned. "Very boastful. On what grounds do you declare you've surpassed your brothers? Pride? Is your anger speaking for you? I do not dislike that – I speak in anger as well.

But I know my anger. My anger and I are of the same mind. Yours misguides you."

"You know what grounds, father, for you were proud of what I achieved," Lady Blackthorn said. "But I am not satisfied to be beneath men that are weaker than I."

'Woah,' Oliver murmured internally, as he shifted. Lady Blackthorn was fully in her fury now. He'd seen her come to anger a few times before, and if those times were anything to go by, then there was nothing stopping her now.

He glanced at Queen Asabel, feeling bad for the scene that he'd caused. He'd let his own emotions run riot, and they'd tainted the space that they were in. It must have been dreadful for her, to have her stage descend into such chaos, it was as though they were disrespecti—

What his eyes found couldn't have been further from the truth. What he saw on Queen Asabel's face was an intense fondness. It was like a mother looking at her children, willing them to get stronger. She shone with such a fiercely loving light, that once more Oliver found it difficult to look at her.

"…Hoh," Lord Blackthorn said. "Those are a man's words. What are they doing falling out of the mouth of my daughter?"

"They're the words of a woman that has strength with a sword," Lasha bit back. "If you shall not support me, Father, then I will do what I will regardless."

"…Willy little wretch," Blackthorn said, seeming to be about to go into another rage of fury, but all at once, much like Lord Idris, his strength seemed to fade out of him, and his lips quivered, as though to smile. They never ended up in that smile, though, and set themselves back into a hard line. "You trouble me to no end, daughter of mine. But perhaps you are right.

In light of your achievement, I shall give you the leeway afforded to the talented. Be warned, though, that leeway is a tightrope. If you do not continue to achieve, you set up the very canyon that you shall fall into."

"I am not alone, father," Lasha Blackthorn said. "Even if I were to slip, as I have many times before, I would find strength again, through the assistance of my allies, and I would make progress."

"We are not mere Swords. The Blackthorns are a house of Generals," Blackthorn insisted, just as Lord Idris tapped his arm, indicating that he had wrapped up his little argument with his daughter. The burly General shrugged the hand off, and lunged forward. "What do you know of leadership?"

"I have led fifty men under Oliver, at times," Lasha replied. "I do not forget what we are, father. As a Blackthorn, it is the General's path that I seek to walk."

"…Then go – but you shall not go alone. You will not be a mere Sword, daughter. You shall go with a hundred good men. They will watch you. If you have not subordinated them properly by the time that you return, and if you do not have the achievements to go along with it, then I will hear no more talk of your follies."

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"Father..?" Lasha said, looking up. Apparently, that was the last thing that she had expected. The General merely nodded at her – it was as much approval as a man like him could possibly give. She took it, and trembled. "Thank you."

She stepped back with her words, ceding the ground once more to Lombard and to Oliver. Verdant moved to do the same.

"Apologies, Queen Asabel," Oliver said, speaking up. "We have all spoken out of turn. We've made your chamber less than it was."

"No," Lancelot said, speaking on behalf of a smiling Queen. "You have enriched it. You three are the seeds that will sow the future of all of the Stormfront. This space was in sore need of decoration – but you have done much to block out the whispers of the past. I shall await tales of your achievements. I have belief in you all."

"Our discussion has been more dynamic than I believe any party intended," Lord Idris said, stepping in on behalf of his Queen. "Unless you have more to say, it seems wise to draw this audience to a close."

Lombard looked over his companions. Aside from those that had already spoken, the others would not dare. The Serving Class retainers were keeping their gazes firmly fixed on the floor, shaking from nervousness, not willing to meet the eye of anyone.

"Your Queen has been most gracious," Captain Lombard said. "The kindness that she was famed for as a Princess has not been lost. It warms my heart to see it. I do not believe any other royal could have looked upon our outbursts favourable. I both apologise and I give my thanks – my Lord shall be immensely heartened by what has happened here."