1402: Childish – Part 8 1402: Childish – Part 8 “W-well, no doubt that would be pleased of it,” Blackwell said.
“But you can hardly allow such ancient treasures to be touched by the hands of normal folk.” “They would be the victors,” Oliver said.
“Surely they’re deserving.” “And what might they be the victor in?” Blackwell said.
“You have said a tournant, but you have not said what categories and the like you intend to host.” “I thought it to be impertinent to go that far without securing your permission,” Oliver said.
“Humour for a second, then.
Assuming I gave my permission, what categories might there be?” Blackwell said.
“Different categories for different weapons, I think,” Oliver said.
“Each category could possibly begin with a full scale lee, to decide the entrants for the tournants itself.
That seems like a fair way of allowing for a great number of entrants.” Blackwell nodded.
“There might be thousands of soldiers, though,” he said.
“How will you make room for them all?” “We will have to hold multiple lees, I suppose,” Oliver said.
“I would like to allow the peasants to have a chance of entering as well.
It would please to see the tournant seedings to be decided purely on competence, rather than status.” “As true to the tales told about you as ever,” Blackwell said, waving a hand.
Oliver had the distinct feeling that, the more he was talking, the less he was interesting the General.
He was sure, just a few monts before, he’d held his attention entirely, and now that attention was wandering.
“Is that it?
Just a lee for the lessers, and so duels to round the tournant off?” Blackwell said.
“And then you’ll be giving the victors a chance to read those books of yours?
Seems a bit too basic to , Ser Patrick.
Anyone of note, in the higher Boundaries, will take this tournant by storm.
I assu you have not invited General Karstly, given your tenseness with the man of late, but let us say that a man of Karstly’s temperant were to co – he would throw himself into the ranks of the masses, and ruin the format of your tournant with his strength, just for his own amusent.
He would likely see it all ended just in the lee.” “No, I have invited General Karstly, naturally,” Oliver said.
That provoked two raised eyebrows from Blackwell, rather than just one.
“He was the second letter I sent, after yours,” Oliver said.
“…I had thought you had discord with the man,” Blackwell said.
“I had discord with the man’s thods, and yours, General,” Oliver said.
“But that does not an that I dismiss your worth as Generals, or what you achieved on the campaign.
I have much to learn from the two of you.
And Karstly, in large part, had been a good superior of mine for the majority of the campaign.” “But what he did still trouble you,” Blackwell noted, eyeing him carefully.
“I suppose you have been reading the works of the First King, after all, if you are reevaluating yourself to that degree.
Very well, I will give you a degree of acknowledgent for that.
But what is the purpose in inviting the man?
Do you think Karstly would be satisfied, just in seeing his n compete?” “Well, I wished for sothing a little greedier in that regard,” Oliver said.
“This is purely for my own sake, but I had hoped to witness so competitions exclusively between the Generals.” “Oh?” General Blackwell said.
He could feel the entirety of Lord Blackwell’s attention being fixed firmly on him once again.
“I don’t know if any Generals would lower themselves to it though…” Oliver shrugged.
“They seem too high standing n to take part in such lowly competitions.” “Don’t shade your intentions with the curtain of formalities,” Blackwell said.
“Speak.
You want my permission, do you not?
Tell what it is you intend.” “I’d hoped to see a competition on the Battle board,” Oliver said.
“I’d supposed that, perhaps the victor, or even the top three finishers, might wish to read the works of the First King, written in his own hand.” “A normal Battle Board, or a Command Battle Board?” General Blackwell asked with the utmost seriousness.
“…I wonder if it would not be better to stage a mock battle, if we were to use a Command Battle Board?
It would make for quite the spectacle,” Oliver said.
“Hoho, this is growing more outlandish by the second, Ser Patrick,” Blackwell said, but there was finally a smile on his face.
“What would that mock battle entail?” “Wooden weapons, I’d say, a hundred n on each side…” Oliver said.
“I suppose the victor is whoever breaks the other side first?” “Each General would likely need to bring two hundred n, to account for injuries then,” Lord Blackwell noted.
“The equipnt would have to be regulated… else soone might bring steel plate to fight against wooden weapons with, and the spectacle would be no more than seeing wood play a steel drum.” “Do you suppose that it might be reaching too far?” Oliver said.
“Perhaps with that, we’d have three competitions for the Generals.
A Battle board, a duel with any weapon, and then the mock battle themselves?
It feels like it all might take a bit too long.” “Not at all.
It would be pointless without that,” General Blackwell said, nodding deeply.
“This is a good place to do it.
I saw your statue of Dominus on the way in, Ser Patrick.
A good stone mason’s work, that is, though I would have it three tis the size.
And the reward is fitting, the works of the First King.
There is much martial to be gained in this vicinity.” “Well, the reading of the works of the First King – I would keep them in my possession, if at all possible, and make up for the grand prize with so gold, from the pot that we build with all the different entrance fees we collect,” Oliver said.
“Naturally.
The works of the First King should be kept in proximity with Ernest,” Blackwell said.
‘And for what reason might that be?’ Oliver thought to himself, when the General saw no reason to elaborate.
It was becoming quite clear to Oliver by now, that the General’s exclusive motivation in all this was seeing those original works of the First King read.
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