A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 2080: Hurried Footsteps - Part 6

With a raised hand, King Patrick silenced him. It seemed a terrifyingly natural gesture, but from what he knew of their tenuous relationship, Edward very much expected it to anger him. And yet, it had the opposite effect. The General folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair, giving way as he was asked to.

A man just beyond King Patrick, eyeing Edward with an intensity that was almost off putting. Something about his pale blue eyes warned Edward of that which Kaya had promised – that if he attempted to hide anything, even his fear, he would be seen through, and mistrusted.

"Speak, Ser Edward," King Patrick said. "You have news for me, what would it be?"

"A message, warning you against taking King Emerson’s head," Edward said.

"Interesting," King Patrick said. "An argument in your favour, King Emerson. Who gives you this warning, Ser Edward?"

"...It is my interpretation of the signs I have been shown," Edward said. "I am a knight in Claudia’s Order. You see it in my sigil, faded though it might be. I am certain that, if you are to cut off King Emerson’s head, great calamity will come your way."

"Now that is interesting," King Patrick said, nodding once more. Kneeling as he was, Edward had to glance up in order to see what truly lay in King Patrick’s eyes. Not the slightest hint of unease, or surprise. It was almost as if he had expected Edward to say just that. He turned to the man behind him – a man that he must have held in high regard.

"Lord Idris, what do you think?" King Patrick asked of him.

"He tells his truth, as best he knows it," Lord Idris replied, his voice deep, and if Edward were to be truly honest, a little bit unsettling.

"Hogwash," General Blackthorn said. "Superstitious nonsense. It lends to nothing. It doesn’t support King Emerson’s claim in the least."

"Perhaps," King Patrick said. "Perhaps not."

"Would you like me to remove him, Your Majesty?" Kaya asked, now that Edward had said all that he needed to say.

"Let him stay," King Patrick said, motioning to a corner of the room"Ser Edward, if you would join Kaya."

"We have given you the facts, King Patrick, with the utmost honesty," said an aged nobleman, dressed in lengthy green robes, as he slammed his fist into the table. He was one of the few unarmoured men in the room, and Edward guessed that he was one of King Emerson’s advisors.

"That’s enough, Lord Merkel. Contain your anger," King Emerson said.

"I will not. He does not allow you the full strength of your retainers. Only me, and Lord Reclude. They have murdered your King’s Guard in cold blood, and now they stand here as tyrants, forcing you towards options—"

"SILENCE!" King Emerson thundered. The man must have seen it, as Edward had, the way King Patrick’s smile had grown tighter, as he observed the well-aged nobleman, and listened to his enraged speel. His colour of his eyes had seemed to shift towards to gold then, and his fingers had threatened to worm their way towards a fist. "Do forgive him, King Patrick. He is fearful."

"..." King Patrick did not comment on that, but something about his lack of comment seemed to indicate disagreement. Lord Merkel was not fearful. He was arrogant, and angry in his arrogance. The worst sort of emotion to confront a man like King Patrick with.

A woman looked over her shoulder, from by King Patrick’s side. Her hawk-like eyes bore straight in Edward. She studied him for a lengthy couple of moments, and then turned back around.

Kaya noticed the look, and offered Edward a shrug of sympathy. Lady Blackthorn, Edward supposed. A terrifying young woman, if the strength of her glare was anything to go on.

"King Patrick," King Emerson said, spreading his arms out wide, and offering a tired smile. "You have made your point. You have seen my men defeated, and slaughtered. The military might that you have demonstrated today will surely be something that will be remembered. You need take it no further than that – to do so would be to play into our enemy’s hands."

"You’re a fool, father, for believing them," Prince Hendrick said. "They played you – and they played all of us. I told you. I advised you against this. To fight against King Patrick was to end up in this position. Lord Blake has betrayed you, just as you had us betray King Patrick."

King Emerson’s smile faded, his eyes went a degree colder. "I am aware."

"They promised you that an army of thirty thousand would be arriving to see me shot in the back," King Patrick said. "What a grand strategy that was. I fell for it the entire way through. Lord Blake predicted I would give chase to Fitzer. He predicted I would take the battle the entire way to your Capital. That must have been a great relief to you, King Emerson. To have it go all to plan. And yet, when that army was set to arrive, you found nothing. No assistance."

"As pathetic as it is, that is the situation that I find myself in, King Patrick. And is that not an appropriate warning to you. Lord Blake is your enemy. For him to see this far ahead, you ought to assume that he saw further still. If his intention was not to crush you here, with the might of his army, then what was it?"

"He didn’t attempt to crush him here, for he suspected, even in a trap, King Patrick might have bested all of us," Prince Hendrick said. "And he wouldn’t have been wrong."

King Patrick drew his sword from his belt, looked at it for a moment, and set it upon the table.

The temperature in the room shifted. The look on King Patrick’s face, once more, was one of the utmost calm. There was a man tired of diplomacy, tired of deceit.

King Emerson looked upon that blade. He looked long and hard. Edward watched the mask on his face crumble – that pretense of friendliness. The almost kind look that King Emerson wore in his eyes. The dance that he’d been doing as the fool that had seen himself betrayed. With that sword lying there, and King Patrick looming over it, a promise written in his eyes, King Emerson’s true emotions hissed through.