A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

1052: The Sword and the Board – Part 6

1052: The Sword and the Board – Part 6

It was for Jericho and Amion to charge forward.

The two of them together, and their victory was guaranteed.

Even alone, Amion suspected that he held the edge in close combat.

The enemy appeared to be far too young to be accomplished in more than one domain.

Besides, Amion held on his side the martial techniques of the Scribe Soldiers.

There were few even in all the Verna lands that could rival them.

When he judged the timing to be right, he dismounted his horse, removed his helmet, and disappeared in between the ranks of advancing men on the left flank.

In the same instant, Jericho did the same, except his destination was the right flank.

Oliver had glanced away for only a second, and in that time, the two of them had seemed to vanish.

Momentary panic set in, but it was quickly set aside when he looked at the battlefield through Ingolsol’s eyes.

Through that lens, their presence was as clear as day, even as they crouched behind their soldiers.

“Advance,” Oliver held up his arm to bring the rest of his army forward, reducing the ranks of men that the enemy would have to battle through in order to reach him.

He intended it as a measure meant to save as many lives as possible.

“Oliver…” Claudia cautioned. ƒreewebɳovel.com

“Are you really placing the outcome of this battle on the tip of a sword that you can only wield with your left hand?”

There was no response this time for the Fragment.

Oliver focused himself entirely on his task.

Jericho and Amion were keeping perfect pace with each other, despite the fact that they were on entirely different ends of the battlefront, with dozens of men between them.

They ought not to have been able to see each other.

Lasha’s men streamed after them, bulling through a gap just a few paces away from Oliver in order to reinforce their leader.

They were just as eager as she was.

They entered the battlefield with all the force of a battle ram.

Their presence changed things in an instant.

The shock was impossible to mistake on the faces of the Verna men.

It was a reaction that Oliver shared, in part.

He hadn’t expected for those men to be so riled up by Firyr’s display – if that was indeed what they were riled up about.

They were even more aggressive than they’d been the day before, when they were fully rested.

“Now there are men giving in to their excitement,” General Karstly said.

“It shames me,” Gordry noted.

“So little time away from their masters, and they’ve already lost their discipline.”

Karstly raised an eyebrow.

“I did not mean to insult them, Colonel Gordry.

It was praise.

They’re more effective today than they were in yesterday’s battle – though that is not to say that they were ineffective there either.”

“…I misunderstand your judgement, General,” Colonel said eventually, dipping his head.

“In time you will learn, Gordry, I have no doubt,” Karstly said.

“For just like those men, I do not think I have seen the best that you can offer either.

It might be a long learning process for the two of us, but I do hope that you will bear with me.

We will see a foundation of trust built between the two of us.

You can trust that I know what it takes to pave the road towards victory, and I wish to be able to trust that you will fight with all the might that the Blackthorn men are famed for, and then some.”

The Colonel took longer to reply than he ought to have.

Long enough that Karstly dragged his eyes back away from him, and once more watched the unfoldings of the battlefield.

“You are not my General,” he said eventually.

“But on the orders of my General, I serve under you.

Learning your ways might not be a weakness.”

The smallest smile and a nod was all Karstly gave in response.

The forces of the battlefield prepared themselves for a clash.

Both sides, Patrick and Amion, put everything that they had to bear.

They’d both been forced into similar sorts of corners.

The Patricks fought as they did for that was what was required of them merely to stand on the same battlefield, with the odds against them, and then the Amion men did what they did, in an effort to stop the raging fire from spreading throughout their ranks and burning the lot of them in a single go.

“Hand of mine,” Oliver said.

“Do not hold me back.

If my Command has any sort of reach on the faculties of my body, grant me a reprieve, and give me function back in lesser time than I deserve.

I swear that I will not make the mistake of having you so shattered again.”

“A mere limb, and you speak to it so,” Ingolsol scoffed.

“A limb that has granted me power over foes that ought to have been far stronger than me,” Oliver said.

“It is not a limb to be taken lightly.”

“Concentrate!” Claudia told them.

“The enemy nears!

If you must create this situation for yourself, then see it through with your mind on the task.

You cannot afford to be wounded any further, Oliver!”

Even without Claudia saying that, Oliver knew it well enough.

His men were concentrating on their task at the front, with Firyr carving their way forward, and Blackthorn ensuring that they encountered no worries of encirclement.

All except Verdant knew not of the plight that Oliver had gladly accepted.

Only a cautious set of blue eyes were cast back Oliver’s way, as Verdant evaluated the situation with uneasy eyes.

With a nod from Oliver, however, those eyes were turned back to their task.

On those opposite flanks, Amion and Jericho crept forward, keeping their unhelmeted heads low, and cautiously picking their way through their ranks of men.

When Oliver brought his own men further forward, allowing them an even shorter distance towards his head, both men began to feel their hearts beat faster.