A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1717 - 1717: The Dogs of War - Part 3

"They require sharpening," Oliver said. "I will do what I can before Tavar arrives, but battlefield experience, gently done, will be of the most benefit to them."

"You ask me to shoulder that burden then? Me and my men?" Lord Blackthorn asked. It came in a growl, but Oliver did not get the sense that the man was particularly angry about that. He supposed, little by little, he was getting a sense for the Lord's moods, beyond his constant aggression.

"To what degree you can, General," Oliver said. "I will not allow them to be a burden to you regardless, but nor would I see them spent in an instant, as those soldiers that I trained before were."

"It was you that spent them, General Patrick," Blackthorn said. "Your choice to stay is what spent them."

"It was," Oliver said. "They gave their lives for that victory. Without them, it would not have been had."

"Would you have preferred to retreat, and trained them for longer?" General Blackthorn asked.

Oliver shook his head. "No. It was their victory, as much as mine. If men of that sort had not been willing to fight, there would have been no battle at all. We would have been routed from the off."

"That you weren't," Blackthorn said. "Is a curious matter. You inspire a loyalty in the peasantry. These new men that have just walked in – why do you suppose they stream to you, General Patrick? In the face of Tavar's army, they have marched all this way to heed your call. Why do you suppose that is? Do you sing a tune that only they could understand?"

"I think, rather, they sing a song that only I can understand, General," Oliver said. "They are not the lesser men that you suppose them to be. The battle with the Emerson, you have questioned me on it eternally, yourself, and through your men, and I have pondered it too. A victory that I do not understand, a bridge that was built that I could never try again, not with my own hands. I did not force them together, General. I do not believe it with Command that so executed them into a fighting force. It was they that drew me forward. Not the other way around. Without them, I could not conceive of victory, much less force it."

General Blackthorn considered that, from underneath his heavy eyebrows. It took him a full two minutes before he grunted in response. "You are thinking on it, at the very least, I suppose I shall commend it."

"It would be unwise not to," Oliver said. "Though, I suppose, our last conversation on the matter did force me to consider it more heavily than I otherwise might have."

"Good," Blackthorn said. "That is the General you shall need to be, if you wish to survive against the likes of our foe. Not for the sake of victory, Oliver Patrick, but merely for the sake of crossing blades with them. You got an opportunity to look at them, did you not? At Germanicus, and at General Tavar?"

"Tavar is what I remember…" Oliver started to say, but then he frowned, and shook his head. "No, I suppose he's not. If the Minister of Blades had not been so insistent on warning me, I perhaps would have fallen for one or two of his traps. He's subtle with his strategy. He seems entirely conventional, but somehow, he gets one up on you."

"And Germanicus?" Blackthorn pressed.

"Something else entirely, I suppose," Oliver said. "I do not think I can fight him in single combat."

"Then you think right," Blackthorn said, almost angry at the mere mention of the name. "There's something that should have stayed in the forest. In single combat, we will be hard pressed to match him."

Oliver couldn't overlook the fact that Blackthorn both sounded and looked excited, despite that overwhelmingly aggressive anger that seeped out from him. He was a man that seemed as if there was no place in the world that he would rather be than there, confronting these mighty foes as they were.

"There has been news," Blackthorn said suddenly. "Tiberius has stolen the Skreen from Skullic. We've lost that front."

"The Skreen has fallen?" Oliver said, horrified. "And Skullic with it?"

Blackthorn shook his head. "Karstly arrived first, and slew the besieging army. Skullic arose for the pursuit – but Minister Hod, as I understand it, stopped them both from falling into a trap. Damn fools. Young Generals, them both. Their instincts are misaligned."

"Ah, so he's alive," Oliver said, his shoulders falling back down in relief. "For them to both fall for Tiberius' trap, however."

"Obviously, Tiberius is dangerous," Blackthorn said. "But Karstly is still a fool. His arrogance hangs around him like a dozen clouds. He needs a few more defeats before he can match the likes of our foes."

"Can our position stomach a few more defeats?" Oliver asked.

Blackthorn shrugged his shoulders. "It is not our place to think that far ahead. Blackwell has been put in charge of our efforts at war. He has the privilege of seeing our battlefields from a great distance. There is only one thing you need think about – and we, as the defenders of Ernest – and that is exerting as much military pressure as we can on the foes in front of us. A mighty army gathers to face us. Different men would likely balk at it. But for us, it makes matters simpler, no? You have no black blood in you, but there is a foolishness to you that I have been accused of. You prefer to fight what is in front of you, do you not? That is why you did not flee Ernest."

"I would argue there were more reasons than that…" Oliver said. "But I suppose you might not be far off the mark. Dominus did say I was bad at paying attention to what was going on around me."

"Did he?" Blackthorn murmured. "That would have been good to know a while ago. I would have understood you better. You are not the sort of subordinate that is easy to effectively use. You have achieved the most when I have simply cut your reins, and let you do as you bid."