A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1716 - 1716: The Dogs of War - Part 2

"Nila pulled back two dozen sleds piled high with meat from across the Yarmdon border," Oliver said. "She's done very well indeed."

"Did she now?" Greeves said, eyebrow raised, and arms folded, clearly impressed. "That'll be a good addition to what I brought in. Yer not so bad yourself girl. Maybe yer the best hunter in the kingdom if I'm the best merchant, eh? Haha!"

"The Gods are going to strike us down if we start acting so arrogant…" Nila complained with a sigh. "Oliver has been working hard too. He's been visiting villages, and keeping an eye on General Tavar. He's brought back another five thousand peasants that are willing to train with us and fight for us."

"…Sorry?" Greeves said, his smile fading. "What did ya say?"

"Five thousand," Nila said. "That's what he brought back."

"Five thousand!?" Greeves said, jumping down from his seat at the front of the wagon. "You're lying to me, ain't ya? There's no way you can gather up five thousand fighting men from nowhere. What the hell did you promise them? Eh? Where did you even get them? I thought Blackthorn saw all the villages on his way down visited."

"I went to those places that were declared as our enemies," Oliver said. "It turns out – as we already knew – the peasantry aren't as inclined towards the allegiances of the nobles that rule over them as some might believe. It turns out that one cannot mistreat those that one considers beneath oneself, and then expect them to fight in their favour."

"…Is that right?" Greeves said, pulling a face. "You're really putting a dampener on these wagons that I've brought."

"Hm? But they'll be useful, will they not be?" Oliver said. "We might have extra men, but you have brought the provisions to ensure that they are well fed. You and Nila both."

"Didn't mean that. Yer snatching the glory from me. I was sure I'd outdone you all, but you had to go and fuckin' do something insane again," Greeves said. "Pisses me off, it does. All that work, and for nothing."

"Errr, how about for the war effort?" Nila said, baffled by the insanity of Greeves' complaints.

"The war effort?" Greeves said. "Pah. I suppose. Bloomin' war effort. What's the bloody point, eh fellas?"

He appealed to the Blackthorn soldiers that were beginning to gather around, and all of them gave him the same baffled looks that Nila had. Some of them looked considerably harsher than she, not exactly approving of the merchant's seemingly lax attitude, but at the same time, they were unable to ignore the scale of the achievement that had been brought to their gates.

"General Blackthorn will be pleased to hear of this," Oliver assured Greeves.

Greeves gave various little irritated shakes of his head, but it was hard to tell just quite how angry he was. He allowed the Blackthorn soldiers to peer inside the wagons that he had brought, to confirm the nature of the goods that he was carting through, and it was quite obvious then that what he was hiding was a gloating smile.

Ernest city had itself in a state of readiness. Blackthorn had not slacked in his own preparations – one had only need glance up at the wall and its improved defences to confirm that. But Oliver had seen with his own eyes that the soldiers' had been drilled vigorously each day for the fighting to come. They were a unified force, impressively so, as tightly held together as a clenched fist. Blackthorn spared much time to watch over their practice, but even when he was not there, the intensity of their training did not abate.

Firyr had spied those practices more than once, as had Jorah, and the two of them had stolen ideas, in what form they could, so that they might use it to further improve the peasantry that they were training. The two of them had practically winced when Oliver had brought another five thousand men in for them to train, when they were already as worn down as they were getting the current batch into shape.

"…Very well, my Lord," was all Jorah had tiredly said, accepting the newcomers into their ranks, and deciding that they would need to change their location in the city, if they were to handle the training of all ten thousand men at once.

"I'll be joining you, worry not," Oliver said. "I have done what I can outside of the city walls. These remaining days, I'll spend seeing to it that our soldiers are trained to the best degree that they can be."

That had at least come with some degree of reassurance. The two men had perked up at that. "Could be what they need…" Firyr had muttered. "They're not progressing as quickly as the last lot did."

"We can only hope so," Jorah had said. "We don't have long at all, but they're still terribly raw. There's not an awful lot of distance between them and the new peasantry that have come in, save from their improved stamina."

So they said, but Oliver had not disapproved of those men when he had seen them himself. They were indeed as raw as Jorah had claimed, but that didn't mean that they hadn't begun to be moulded in some sort of way. One had to squint to see it, but just barely, there were beginning to be the first signs of soldiers amongst them – though they weren't ever likely to be the typical soldiery.

When Oliver was called to his meeting with General Blackthorn, the man met him with his usual intensity.

"You have inspected the state of the city?" He asked, bruskly enough. Oliver had not been back for long, but he had made efforts to ensure that he was up to date on all that had happened in his time away.

"I have, General," Oliver said, dipping his head. "You have been busy in my absence. Those walls will not fall so easily now."

General Blackthorn grunted. "You've brought another five thousand men."

"I have."

"Will they be useful?"

"We do not have long to train them, but if we can force a prolonged siege, then time will start to favour us," Oliver said. "When otherwise it might not."

"And the first five thousand? What of them?" Blackthorn asked.