A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1715 - 1715: The Dogs of War - Part 1

Skullic, in particular, wore a thoroughly disgruntled look, seeing his long-held ancestral home fall so easily into enemy hands. That his mood was not worse was a miracle beyond miracles. But he had to praise his own instincts as Hod had, in carefully making sure that some of his most vulnerable people had been slipped away through underground tunnels, bit by bit, so that only those left behind were either the old, or those veteran enough that they knew how to fight as well as perform their duties as a servant.

"Fear not," Hod said, putting a hand on Skullic's shoulder. "We can make use of this. You held the Skreen for longer than we intended. You have done well – and now that you are free to fight on the open field, we will get much use out of you."

"You had better, Minister," Skullic said. "A whole castle's worth of use, if you would."

"It can be arranged."

Ernest had changed when Oliver found himself arrived in it. Everywhere he looked, there was the influence of General Blackthorn, weighing the city down like weighty armour.

The battlements atop the wall had been reinforced even beyond what Professor Volguard had suggested for them. There were stakes lined up and waiting for any man that could possibly climb that high, all around the massive perimeter of the city. And there were many baskets placed full of arrows, and there were buckets full of oil, and baskets full of rocks to be tossed down.

In terms of preparation, Lord Blackthorn seemed quite ready for battle there and then.

Nila had come back from her expedition, just two days before Oliver saw fit to return. She brought with her two dozen sleds piled high with meat. A remarkable achievement it was, even when it was compared to the number of soldiers that they had to feed. It seemed as if it would hardly make a dent in the meals of the thousands that they now had on their hands, but in the subject of a siege, it was always meat that seemed to go first.

Blackthorn himself had seen it come in, and he had given the girl a strong nod of approval. He had enquired after the state of the Yarmdon border as well, after learning that was where she had been, on orders of Oliver Patrick, and that too, he had nodded at.

"Good," he said. "Now we have certainty to the north of us. You have done well, girl."

"…My, he certainly treats you with a lightness," Professor Yoreholder had remarked, when the General was walking away.

"Does he?" Nila said, not seeing it. She still found the man terribly terrifying.

"You might not be able to see the difference yet, but I'm quite certain that is General Blackthorn attempting to be his most approachable," Professor Yoreholder said.

"Is that right… I shall believe you then, Lady Yoreholder," Nila said. She found Lady Yoreholder still just as terrifying as she did Lord Blackthorn, though the woman had made a significant effort with her on their ranging mission. At the very least, she could hold a conversation with her now, without blushing too heavily from the nervousness.

The Lady Yoreholder was just as proud as Nila for their hunting achievement. The terrain had been as harsh as expected, but the little Felder girl had squirreled paths for them in the most unlikely of places, and they had breached the seemingly unbreachable Black Mountains as if they had spent their lives doing exactly that. And in Nila's case, Lady Yoreholder supposed that she had.

The Professor was full of stories for the Minister of Blades when her husband did return amongst Oliver's party, telling of the mission that they had endured, and the many problems that they had faced. The man had listened with a small and patient smile, quietly delighting in his wife's youthful enthusiasm, something he hadn't seen for the longest of times.

Greeves made his return the day after Oliver had made his, just before Oliver was scheduled to meet with General Blackthorn, to speak on all he himself had done. And the man came – insanely – with twenty wagons rolling at his back, and a broad grin on his face.

"Look at that!" He whooped, forgetting himself, even as Blackthorn soldiers came streaming from the gates to receive him, along with Oliver and a good dozen of his own Patrick men. "Look at that! Eh? Bet you didn't bloody expect that! Neither did I, let me tell you! The tricks I had to pull, bloody hell boy, bloody hell! I've out done myself, if I do say. Worse with age? Which fucker said that? Which fucker? Eh? Tell them look! I dare you to find any other man in the kingdom that can find as many supplies as this when the bloody country is at war. Eh? What do you reckon, boy, what do you reckon? Is this the finest merchant that you have ever seen?"

Oliver enjoyed Greeves' loud boasting patiently, and he nodded along with it, and when he was finally allowed to speak, he nodded again. "Perhaps not the finest merchant, but certainly the most capable one I do know."

"Eh? Why'd you put it like that?" Greeves said, his smile falling.

"Shut up and take the compliment," Nila told him. "He's saying you're the best merchant in the kingdom, but your personality could do with some work."

"The best merchant in the kingdom?" Greeves whooped. "There you go girl, there you go! You can see it if you do try! How many years have you been saying that you've overtaken me for, eh? Have a look at that! Twenty carriages! Overtake that! Haha! Gods be good, I'm fuckin' good at this game."

"You have done very well," Oliver praised him. "Above what I could have expected for you."

"Well, I tell you, I pissin' worked hard, so I could do with a good rest. Don't tell me that I don't do nothin' for ya lad. You better have been working hard too. Don't tell me you've been slacking."