A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"That was never his problem, Ingolsol," Claudia said. "Such a thing is not a weakness. Oliver simply is not willing to engage in purposeful sacrifice."

"Let him through!" Oliver called. "Don't waste your lives stopping a Third Boundary man!"

It wasn't the right thing to say. His own chances of victory were calculated based on the fact that Amion would have to fight through three ranks of men, and that he'd end up surrounded when he arrived in front of Oliver.

Of course, the men obeyed. Even those slaves and peasants that did not know the military ways had always understood the simplicity of strength. They believed Oliver to be stronger than anything conceivable on the battlefield.

If he bid that they part, so that he could take a life himself, then they would do it, without question, not knowing that he had lost the use of the very hand that had taken all those lives.

Even Amion found himself pausing, as the men parted, allowing just enough room for a single man. They encircled him, blocking off any more shield wielders from following up after him.

Cautiously, Amion took his steps forward, keeping an eye on the men to either side of him – but it was already as though they had forgotten that he existed. Their eyes were to the front, and the battle raging there. They seemed to have absolute faith that their Captain would have no trouble with the enemy Commandant. It was a fact that Amion found disconcerting.

He felt as if he'd entered into a different world, a frozen tundra, where his ordinary logics did not make sense.

"You've come," Oliver noted, as they came to a halt, barely three paces away.

"I am… here," Amion said, taking a moment to remember the proper words in the Stormfront tongue.

A crash to their right brought the arrival of a second man. Once more, by Oliver's orders, the men parted, and Jericho was allowed through.

"I here too," Jericho said, his mastery over the Stormfront tongue inferior to that of his Rogue Commandant's.

Only now did the rest of the Patrick army seem to realize what was happening. Jorah sensed something was off, and he cast his eyes back towards his Captain, only to see him facing off against two men of a certain magnitude.

"Lord Idris!" He called.

"I am aware," Verdant replied, not turning.

"Aware of..?" Hearing their shouts, Blackthorn turned as well, her eyes widening. She could not have the same dismissive air as the other two, not when she knew the state of Oliver's hand.

"Verdant!" She began.

"I am aware, Lady Blackthorn," Verdant replied calmly. "Eyes to the front. You were given a task. We will push forward, and make use of our Captain's strategy."

"But you know… You know – this is too reckless! He needs assistance! He's counting on it, surely!" Lasha said, causing Jorah to narrow his eyes.

"Against that sort of foe, our Captain will not struggle," he said cautiously, recognizing that there was something unspoken in Verdant's words that he was not privy to. "Unless…"

"There is no 'unless', Commander. Forward. Lady Blackthorn, the same. You can not afford to be distracted. Every second is valuable. Make use of it," Verdant said.

With Verdant's words, Lasha was forced to grit her teeth, though she still found it nearly impossible to tear her eyes away. It would have been one thing if there was only a single enemy of that strength, but there were two of them. A Third Boundary man, and a Second Boundary man. "Oliver…" She said, turning her feet, barely able to avoid rushing back.

"What?" Came Gordry's disbelieving grunt. Lasha was not the only Blackthorn that the situation had taken off guard. "Two… He's been caught out completely! How could the fool make such a blunder?"

"Whether or not it is a blunder is a matter of debate," General Karstly said, "though the fact does remain that the boy chose to invite him in."

"Despite the state of his hand," Samuel added.

"Despite the state of his hand," Karstly agreed, smiling. "Now there's a poetry to that. That sounds like the source of a spark. It's the sort of spark that could get the whole army alight, if they knew of the situation that he was in. Alas, Samuel, it seems to be only us observers that his victory will serve to inspire."

"You speak as if it is a foregone conclusion," Samuel noted.

"Heavens no. I am only interested in the interesting outcomes. Win, or lose, Oliver Patrick had already set the stage for this battlefield well enough. What performance I decide to carry out no longer hardly matters, for each one is certain to be of a respectable magnitude, if this is the foundation that we are working off," General Karstly said.

"…" Gordry remained quiet at the display.

"What is that look, Colonel?" General Karstly said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you find me distasteful? I've met such accusations before. You would not be the first."

"Your respect for life is… lesser than I am used to," Gordry said, as delicately as he could.

In response to such delicate phrasing, Karstly merely laughed, seeing straight through his words. "From a Blackthorn?" He said. "Do you hear that, Samuel? I've been reduced to a heartless leader, even from Blackthorn's eyes. They who value nothing but grit. They who would gladly build a bridge out of dead bodies if it came to it."

Gordry bristled. "We would do no such thing, General—"

With a finger wielded as swiftly as a sword, Karstly cut him off with a point. "Now there's a soldier that I can make use of. There's a truer glimpse of your heart, Colonel. If you'd show me more of it, I would use you, as keenly as I've been forced to use a Patrick. The honesty with which he presents himself has made him a most valuable piece. I would have a handful of them before we are done here."

"…If any of us remain," Gordry grunted.

It was a remark that Karstly ignored. Samuel nearly replied on his master's behalf, but he found his mouth closing, upon seeing how unconcerned that Karstly looked. His eyes had already drifted back towards Captain Patrick, unable to hide their interest.