A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1566 - 1566: The Strategy of Defence - Part 1

"If anything is to defeat the boulder in front of us, it is that," Oliver said, nodding.

"It is proceeding… according to plan," Volguard said distractedly, as he looked at his Battle board, deciphering the position that Oliver had put before him.

Another few days had passed since Blackwell's message had come, and on the morning of this day, another message had been sent their way, informing them of the capture of the first of the Pendragon towns – a matter that was to be expected, given the size of the army that Blackwell had amassed.

They were twenty-five thousand men strong in total. They had mustered every soldier, Blackthorn, Broadstone, Karstly, Blackwell and otherwise, to see to the assault. All the Asabelian men that had once been tasked with defending their borders had now instead been brought forward, for the sole purpose of the assault. There was a consensus amongst the newly allied Asabelian forces that their only weapon was momentum, and that if they were being forced into a defensive battle on the western front, then they had already lost.

Oliver swung in his chair as they played, looking far more at the world around him than he was at the board. Volguard had said before that he found it disconcerting how distracted Oliver had been lately. That he always seemed lost in thought somehow. His eyes weren't glassy, but they were distant, always finding something more interesting around him, than what was in front of him.

He especially seemed to like being amongst his new soldiery. He had insisted that was where they played their game today. Right in the heart of their encampment, where Oliver had a good view of all the goings on around him.

More than once, did he smile to himself, and nod, as if he'd just understood something. And then he'd grin at a man, and nod to them too, and for some reason, those same men would nod back, as if they had some kind of hidden understanding that Volguard wasn't privy to.

To say that he didn't find it all mildly worrying would have been lying on Volguard's part. But what he found far more worrying, currently, was the position that he'd found himself in on the Battle board. He'd gently repositioned one of his bow units, but the move felt lacklustre, especially when compared to the building of something from Oliver's side that he didn't quite understand. He felt as if he was casually being suffocated, and he knew not quite why.

"Fetch yourself a new weapon when you can," Oliver told a soldier, when he dared to come too close, as if Oliver had bid him closer with his eyes.

"General?" The soldier asked – and indeed, they were soldiers now, Volguard had to think, even though they had still spawned from the seeds of peasantry – as if to verify that it was him that Oliver was talking to, and not the two men to either side of him.

"He's been struggling with that spear of his, hasn't he?" Oliver said, speaking to those men instead.

"…Aye, now that you mention it, I reckons the spear doesn't suit him, General," one of the soldiers said. They were all – rightly – incredibly nervous to speak to Oliver directly. Especially after all the efforts he had put into working their fear within their first few days of training. But apparently an overly friendly Oliver was even more intimidating than he that walked amongst their ranks, simply for the purpose of applying that level of fear.

"I haven't earned it though, have I, General?" The soldier said. "You said we needed to earn the right to change weapon. Besides, I doesn't know what I'd pick."

Oliver nodded, studying the man far more intently. He looked at him for a good stretch of seconds, enough to make everyone uncomfortable. And then he twitched, as if remembering something, and his hand lashed out, and he made a move on the Battle board, apologizing to Volguard briefly for the delay.

"Let's see… what about a shortsword?" Oliver asked the man.

"A shortsword..?" The soldier said, distinctly unsure.

"You don't like the thought of being in that close with your foe?" Oliver asked. "It is a frightening prospect. It's a far more dangerous place to be. But then, there's far more opportunity to strike back."

"I'll get a shortsword if you tell me to, General," the soldier said, though he most certainly did not seem convinced from the way he was pulling his face.

"Actually, I reckon a short sword does suit you," said the larger soldier next to him, who favoured a large axe of his own. "Yer all twitchy and the like, you'll be better with something like that."

"If you're both saying it… I'll try it," the soldier said.

"Tell Firyr I sent you," Oliver said, waving him on. "And see to it that you're practised. If it feels too uncomfortable by the end of the day, come and find me, and we'll arrange something different."

The man saluted. "Thank you, General."

"You honour them," Volguard said, noting the prideful way that the three men swaggered away, after being dealt with by their General with such a degree of friendliness. "It is not lost on them the fact that you've done him a favour, I think. You surprised him with your attentiveness. How do you suppose that he would suit a shortsword?"

"He's that sort of man, I think," Oliver said, swinging on his chair back and forth, still looking at the camp around him. "He's nervous in his hands when he's serving his food, and he's twitchy, like his friend said. I think it does suit him. He isn't the sort to wait for an attack to come to him. But we'll see. People are far too complicated to underline in a single stroke."

"Quite," Volguard said, returning his attention finally to the board, and feeling his face blanch, seeing Oliver's cavalry unit so dangerously placed. It had wormed its way right into the heart of Volguard's formation, and he didn't have the means to properly attack it, without weakening himself in the process.