A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1581 - 1581: War at the Gates - Part 5

"The troops seem eager to march," Oliver observed casually, just before Professor Yoreholder could turn on her heel and march away. She paused, to look over her shoulder at him, trying to see if there was some shred of an order in what he had said.

"…if they wish to march, what will you do about it?" Yoreholder asked.

"I will not get in their way," Oliver said. "How could I? When their intentions are so strong, how could a single man hope to stem that tide?"

It was the closest he'd come to suggesting a battle plan. Those men of rank, of leadership, shared glances between them, trying to come to some form of understanding as to what they might do. They'd been robbed of exact orders, but they all still felt the need, ever so strongly, to see something done.

"Will we march, then?" Yoreholder asked the rest of them, given that Oliver would give them no reply. "Tonight?"

"…It is an option," Verdant said carefully, measuring his Lord's face with his words, and not gleaning the slightest thing from it.

"They will be weary from their march," Volguard said. "The night, and the chaos it provides, is to our advantage. Their forces are split between the forts and the encampments. It is a favourable position for us to be in, if we are to take advantage of it."

"How much can we rely on these new men that you have trained?" Professor Yoreholder asked of Verdant.

"Well enough," Verdant said. "My Lord has seen to that. They're far more dangerous than you would expect. In the melee, I do not think they will lose to trained soldiers. And in the charge, I think their might will be crushing."

"Then, we begin to have a plan," Yoreholder said, "do we not?"

"You mean to assault their high command," Volguard observed. "That's about all we can do, given our lack of troops. And the Swords that we have on hand."

"There is Lady Felder and I as well," Yoreholder said. "My bow might be inferior to hers, but, given sufficient distraction, both our arrows might find a high-ranking head, and fell a General before they can give proper effect to their troops."

"Gar, you will be necessary in this, then," Jorah said. "Can we trust you to fight with the rest of us?"

"…Gar not listen to you," Gar said, pulling a face. "Gar listen to him," he said, pointing at Oliver.

"You can do what you want, Gar," Oliver said with a shrug. "I'm not going to get in your way. You'll find something."

"And what of you, my Lord?" Verdant asked, giving voice to the question that they all wished to know the answer to. "If it be surprise, force, and a battle of Swords that we are engaging in, then you have no equal. Can we rely on you?"

Oliver smiled. "This is too mighty a foe for me to bring down. I am not equal to it gentlemen. But if this is the direction that you would pull me in, I shall not resist. The will of the army seems to be unanimous. I would not turn against that."

"You could," Yoreholder pointed out. "You are the General. You are the reason those men fight. You are the reason that my Lord Husband came here. These men, they're all gathered for your purpose. If you had a purpose, they would bind towards it… Why am I so disappointed to see that you have given up?"

The look that the Professor gave him truly bore that disappointment. It was a knife wound to the heart. Oliver observed it with sad eyes, and said nothing further.

"Grand Strategist Volguard, can we entrust overall command to you?" Verdant said. "We need a single mind, to bind our intentions together."

The Professor didn't look particularly happy about it, but he nodded his old head regardless. "I will adhere to the plan, and do what I can to make best use of our forces. But if it is a single all out assault that we are going for, there will not be much room for strategy."

"Regardless, I would feel better with you there, should we need reorganizing," Professor Yoreholder seconded. "I will give word to my husband, and see that our troops are prepared for the coming assault."

"Then I too will give word to our troops," Verdant said. "I imagine they would like to hear from you as well, Lady Felder. And you, Jorah. They need whoever they can to rally their spirits, now that we all intend to plunge straight into the abyss."

"A brave decision to make," Oliver acknowledged, as if he truly had no part in it. They eyed him strangely once more for his words, but they did not dare say anything, for it was quite clear that the young General would not budge in his position.

Seeing his men begin to gather in the courtyard, and hearing the shouts of the Sergeants, putting their men into rank and file, and seeing the wall cleared, Oliver looked in the direction of the Emerson army, and towards the Red Dragon that they were to attack.

To it, he gave it a different sort of smile than he had dared to show in weeks. This smile came with just the slightest twinkle of gold in his eyes. A menacing look, complete by the hand that reached towards the sword.

He could feel the air stir with the motion, as if the dragon felt his threat, as it saw him, and rose up off its haunches, to look down at him, its leg raised, threatening a warning swat.

Then Oliver lowered his eyes again, quietly, and he dismissed himself from being. He freed his hands up from his sword, and allowed the wind to carry him, as well as the wills and wants of other men. His feet moved of their own accord, his arms and his legs did the same. His mind was as empty as the holes in the ground that he used to dig.

He did all that he could not to look towards the dragon. For even to look at it, and think of it, was to disrespect it, and to invite that single killing blow. It was far too mighty. It was a creature beyond the Gods. One did not toy with it gently. One did not think about overcoming it. Merely to think that was to demand execution from it. It was not his place.