"Beyond us, though it may be, I have a feeling we have no choice but to confront it," Oliver said. "This isn't a problem of banditry anymore. When it involves magic, every village in the area falls under threat. There's a darkness to that pursuit that knows no boundaries."
"This is not our region, Patrick," Cormrant said. "I am in agreement with the Commander. We retreat. We've killed two hundred men and we succeeded in the capture of Dollem Fort, albeit it temporarily. What lies down here is beyond us."
"Not your region?" Oliver said. "You'd abandon villagers because of that?"
"Indeed I would," Cormrant said. "The only reason we're assisting in other areas of the country is because of the High King's orders. We seek to aid General Skullic's goals, despite the inconvenience of the Royal Decree. We would not be serving that by dying here."
"Oliver!" Claudia warned. "They can't be allowed to complete the ritual. If it's left, they'll become ten, or even a hundred times more dangerous than they already are."
"Cormrant," Oliver said, gritting his teeth. "You speak logic, and damn it, no doubt you're right. If I were a more sensible man, I'd agree with you. On any other day, in any other circumstance, I'd agree with you. But magic… Magic is a monstrosity that defies comprehension. I cannot follow you in retreat.
This needs dealing with."
"To attack it, you have to be able to attack it," Northman warned. "Ser Patrick, you saw what happened to our arrows, did you not? They engulfed themselves in flames the second that they neared. Why would the same not happen to our men?"
"Magic has to have some kind of restriction to it in order to make it wieldable… I think," Oliver guessed, from his interactions with Francis, though Francis hardly served as an adequate example, for he was the very pinnacle of what mages could achieve. "These aren't true mages. They're just using that fire, and this room.
I doubt that they could just engulf us all in flame at a click of their fingers."
"They did it with those men earlier," Cormrant reminded him.
"Those men were reaching for it, though, they were offering themselves up to it," Oliver said.
"I can't risk my men on a maybe," Northman said, "I'm sorry, Ser Patrick, but unless you can show me that we even have a chance of cutting them down, we can't commit."
Oliver nodded. "That is reasonable, Commander."
Both Northman and Cormrant relaxed at Oliver's quick agreement. The tension went from Northman's shoulder as he prepared to give the order to retreat.
"Then, if I prove to you that we can reach them, and that we can make them bleed, will you assist me?" Oliver asked.
That was not at all where they'd expected him to go. The alarm quickly returned. "What are you thinking of doing? Don't tell me you intend to charge in there yourself?" Northman said, baulking at the suggestion. "That's suicide, Ser! You'd be practically compelling us to follow you.
To leave a noble to die by his lonesome… That would get us all court-martialled."
"Relax," Oliver said. "I don't intend to die, just test the waters. If you could ready the men, as though you intend to charge, so as to draw a little of their attention away from me, that should be enough to test the limits of their magic."
"Quickly now," Oliver urged.
"Why, though, Patrick?" Northman asked. "I didn't get the impression that you wanted to play at heroics. I thought you were like your father – pragmatic in that sense. Why take this risk yourself?"
"…I don't know," Oliver replied honestly. He would have given it more thought, but when he reached for an explanation, he found only emptiness. Claudia pushed him towards it as vigorously as Ingolsol pushed him towards chaos. She was the less assertive fragment, mostly, but in this, she urged him with the force of ten thousand men.
He'd not given Claudia the same attention that he'd given Ingolsol. If anything, he found that he understood Ingolsol better. Oliver did not fancy himself as a heroic man. Not since a child, when such things had seemed as clean cut as fresh cloth.
This act didn't align with his future plans. It didn't make sense in the context of his recent disrespect at the hands of the noble court. At the injustices inflicted upon him by the High King, and all the nobles that served him. That Oliver Patrick merely delighted in destruction.
That Oliver Patrick was out for vengeance… But Oliver Patrick too could not stand to ignore potential suffering merely out of cowardice.
He had strength. There was reason to use it.
Right. That thought filled him with enough completeness to begin to understand himself. It was strength, then, that possibly united the two sides of him. Progress… Though that was Claudia's domain. Both Ingolsol and Claudia's wants, they gave him ample reason to test himself, and grow stronger, for contradictory reasons.
He could feel the void within him growing stronger as he thought about it.
He was not want to know that then, but his internal state was an apt explanation for why no man had ever borne the Blessing of two Gods before – or at least, no man who had lived to tell the tale.
To be seated in between two sets of contradictions was enough to easily tear a man a part. It took a great effort of will to merely remain functional. It was a feat in itself to go on for as long as he had, but to do that as well, and defy the laws of progress to rush through to the Third Boundary early… It was a wonder that he could still even move.
"No good reason, eh?" Northman murmured. "I suppose… I suppose I can get behind that. Somehow, I find I trust a man more that doesn't know."