A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1550 - 1550: To War - Part 3

About the only thing that seemed to be holding the woman together was the idea that they could well capture her family – and indeed, that would be their intentions, for they still had worth as royals – rather than seeing them hurt. It was the sort of abstraction that tried to view it as a political manoeuvre – of which her family had already tried many against her – rather than a militaristic one, even if it was at the cost of denial to oneself.

As the meeting proceeded, Blackwell already had his men coming in and out, giving orders to stop the rest of the army, ordering them to mobilize, and dismantle their tents. They were intent on moving already. Of course, given the flow of conversation, Oliver had expected it to be so, but when he saw, and with Ingolsol and Claudia's awareness, felt the movement from those men, further afield, it came with a certainty, and it made his fear spike.

He had to force himself to grip the table, lest it be displayed on his face. The reality of war was quickly being made evident. It was going to move with or without him. He would have preferred to have delayed matters, if he could, just for the sake of his heart. But Blackwell and the other Generals had far more experience than he. Though they had plunged into the heart of an impossible to swim problem, they showed no signs of hesitation. They trusted entirely in their strategy, and content that Minister Hod had offered the fullest extent of his warnings, they proceeded, thinking themselves to have done everything that they could.

"The civilians, that's the next matter," Blackwell said. "We'll have to drive them to the east with us. Some can stay in Ernest, but it would be better to keep the family members of our high-ranking nobility together, for obvious reasons."

"For the duration of our march, those civilians will be a liability," Karstly said, playing idly with one of the pieces that Blackwell had set up on his board, not seeming to mind the irritated glances that the Great General shot him, in seeing his strategic display interrupted.

"No army will be mobilized quickly enough for them to be a significant problem," Broadstone said confidently.

"Are you quite sure, General?" Karstly asked mildly, twisting the head of the piece – a silver pikeman – into the wood of the table, as if trying to screw it straight through. "We have kept an eye on the birds as best we can, but that is not to say that none have come through. Soldiers are scattered throughout the realm. It wouldn't take a large army to cause us problems. A thousand men, and our march would be interrupted."

"…We've ten thousand men," Broadstone said back, though he said it with uncertainty, as if he had realized the problem that they had themselves.

Karstly smiled. "Five thousand civilians, about a thousand fighting peasants, and the rest are soldiers that we have brought ourselves, scattered between us. Four thousand men, good General, is best what we have, and we have the weakness of having something to protect."

Broadstone twisted his face. He knew well the issues of seeing something protected.

"We will be marching for at least a week, possibly more," Karstly said. "Enough time for trouble to come crashing down on us."

"With so many Generals gathered in one place, surely you will face no issue, no matter the adversity?" Queen Asabel said.

"It delights me that you have such confidence in us, my Queen," Karstly said. "But we are creatures of strategy. We need tools to wield. If our command is split up between so many of us, then it's no better than having a gaggle of Captains fighting together for order."

"Which is to say, for the purpose of the march, you want a Commanding General appointed," Blackwell said. "That solves your issue, does it not?"

Karstly shrugged. "Perhaps. Naturally, you will be intent on taking such a role yourself, General?"

"Naturally," Blackwell responded.

"Then I will be content to serve as your deputy," Karstly grinned. "As you have promised me."

"Very well," Blackwell said.

"I object!" Blackthorn thundered. "You will not relegate me to the position of a Captain, not without me speaking out on it first."

"There aren't the men, General," Karstly said with a shrug.

"Why would I play second to you, Karstly?" Blackthorn said with a snarl. "Do you claim to be my superior on the battlefield? And you, Blackwell, do you claim the same, that you would take high-command from me?"

"At the very least, I am more recently tested than you, Blackthorn," Blackwell said, with the appearance of a calm man, but one could tell, if one looked closely, that he rather enjoyed twisting the dagger into his long-time rival. "And, I do believe that I hold the more recent and higher achievement."

"Pah!" Blackthorn fumed. "This is Queen Asabel's army, she ought to decide."

"According to our little… ceremony yesterday, she gave the position of highest command to Oliver Patrick," Karstly said with amusement. "Ought we follow that, General?"

"Ludicrous!" Blackthorn said, slamming his fist.

"Lord Blackthorn, do calm yourself," Lord Idris said, stepping in. "Against your intentions, you are laying insult to our Queen."

Though Verdant's father spoke calmly, there was an icy edge to his voice that made even the likes of General Blackthorn pause, quickly enough that he dipped his head apologetically, realizing his mistake, with his shoulders sinking. "That was not my intention, my Queen," Blackthorn said.

"I understand that very well," Queen Asabel said kindly. "Though, on the matter of command, I would point out that it would be strange for Oliver Patrick not to lead a significant portion of our forces, given that he was who swept them to our cause in the first place."

"Unfortunately, we do not have the resources after yesterday's performative display to see all the actors justly rewarded," Blackwell said. "If there were the men to give him, for the sake of symbolism, we would. But as you can see, even our honoured Generals here are struggling to have their own fair of men given to them."