A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1647 - 1647: The Unexpected - Part 8

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From the direction of Ernest's grand gate, there streamed five thousand Blackthorn men, with their fiery General at the head of them, on his massive warhorse.

Seeing that entrance, the hearts of the Emerson prisoners could not have sunken any further. They'd built up a degree of equilibrium over their short course as prisoners. They bet on a hope that sat long into the future, and they allowed themselves their period of rest, supposing that a better opportunity would soon present itself.

Every fresh rank of Blackthorn infantry that entered into the city was a blow to that. Of all the infantry to fight against, it had to be Blackthorn infantry. Some men collapsed to their knees, their heads in their hands. Others broke down in tears, supposing that they really would be executed now. Their use as prisoners had long since expired.

The General Blackthorn himself looked out over the city with critical eyes under the heavy frown of his thick black eyebrows. He saw an order where he expected a degree of chaos. He saw a peace in the midst of shattering where he had expected tension and relative unease. He saw governance in a city devoid of anyone but soldiers where he had expected to find a prison.

"Lord Blackthorn," Oliver said, bowing his greeting, arriving at a jog from the road beyond the church. Verdant and Lady Blackthorn were already there, waiting for him, and they soon fell into their posts by his side, working their function as his guards.

"What's the meaning of this?" The General asked.

"The meaning of what?" Oliver replied. "My lateness? Oh, apologies, General. I was having a meeting with our friend Prince Hendrick."

"A meeting? With the prisoner? To what purpose?" Lord Blackthorn asked, an edge to his voice.

"The purpose of seeing his spirits raised," Oliver replied.

"His spirits raised?" Lord Blackthorn said, his own voice rising as he repeated it. "You consort with the enemy? By whose orders?"

"My own," Oliver said. "If you might recall, General Blackthorn, it is I that was entrusted with Ernest."

"Ah. Yes. Yes. I recall now. You ignored the orders your Commanding General left you, and fought a battle that you should have lost," Lord Blackthorn said. "And now you consort with prisoners as if they are friends, and you treat the soldiers that you have captured to a dangerous level of freedom. Have you no common sense? You dangle the prospect of rebellion right in front of them. That they haven't snatched it is a miracle."

"A miracle, Lord Blackthorn, or a different sort of strategy?" Verdant offered. "No doubt you would have dealt with them in a different way, but one cannot deny the efficacy of my Lord's approach."

"Only in the fact that they did not have the gumption to raise up in the time that it took for me to get here. Cowards," Blackthorn said. "These are broken men. A great disappointment, if these are the sorts of enemy that we will be fighting."

Oliver said nothing. His smile did not waiver. He saw no insult, though he was well aware that Blackthorn had intended to see one delivered. "Well, the city has been kept, and now that you have arrived, it is yours to do with as you will, Lord Blackthorn. There is only one issue that I will not be able to obey you on – and that is the matter of the prisoners that we were just speaking of. I have guaranteed each of them their lives, provided that they make no attempt at rebellion. I would see that promise honoured."

"You make promises beyond your station," Blackthorn said. "You've been aware of my coming for a time now. You ought to have waited."

"That being what it might be, I will stand by it regardless," Oliver said.

"Tsch," Blackthorn said. "You will make no more mistakes, General Patrick, do you understand? It is I that I command here. You will not make such decisions in future without my approval. And you will not flaunt my orders in the way that you have flaunted Lord Blackwell's. Perhaps you see in him the same weakness as I, but let me be clear, from the off. In the armies of the Blackthorns, insubordination has only a single punishment, and that is death."

"Very well," Oliver said. "I shall endeavour to be careful."

"You shall endeavour to be busy," Blackthorn corrected. "You have relaxed here for far too long. There is a peace in this city that there ought not be. You will see the peasants that I have gathered readied for war. That shall be your duty until further notice."

Only now that Blackthorn mentioned it did Oliver get the first glimpse of a good mass of peasants that had started to come in after the last of the Blackthorn infantry. They were wide eyed, and uncertain, and their ranks were none existent. They were a thoroughly disorganized rabble, and yet, there were a considerable number of them.

"…I was not informed that such a thing would be my role," Oliver said.

"No," Blackthorn said. "But then, why would we bother to inform you? It is not as if you obey the orders that are sent to you by letter. You require supervision."

"At least tell me that these peasants are here of their own volition," Oliver said. "I'd have a rather hard time training men that do not wish to fight."

"There's five thousand of them," General Blackthorn went on, seemingly ignoring the question. "Collected from the villages that we have marched past, and from the territories of Queen Asabel. They were given the option of fighting for our cause, or marching to safety. These are the ones that chose to fight."

"…When it comes from you, that doesn't exactly sound like an option. It sounds a bit more like a threat, General," Oliver said. "Five thousand, though… That's a sizable number."

"That's five thousand more than you ought to be given. You saw your army destroyed. It's Lord Blackwell's pity that sees you with this fresh crop," General Blackthorn said. "You had better act fast, if you wish to make them useful. That's if you can make them useful."