A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1734 - 1734: An Iron Curtain - Part 4

He grunted in approval seeing that. He had to acknowledge that his comrade in the young General Patrick had performed a miracle in preparing them. But whether those preparations would extend, and whether those men would be able to gather the experience they required to function as trustworthy bands of their own, that was something that still remained to be seen.

'After all, a battlefield like this… It isn't the sort of place for fledgling recruits to be placed,' Blackthorn thought to himself. The tension was far too serve a thing. It was strategy that weighed down on them, as well as numbers. Tavar was the sea itself, sending waves crashing against their sea defences, finding even the slightest weakness that he might exploit.

"AWOOOOOOOOO!"

"AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Three blasts of the horn, each longer than the last, and the signal was given. Tavar gave them no longer to stew in their face off. He sent all the front row of his army charging at once.

They came pounding across the ground, a great river of them, and overhead, there flew the first volley of catapult fire, slamming against the solid bricks of Ernest's mighty walls, and setting the ground under those soldiers on the battlements to trembling.

Oliver had to brace his legs to keep his footing. He'd drawn his sword already, even if it might have been a little premature of the enemy approach.

Orders were being shouted, but against the clamour of the battle that was already beginning, it was difficult to make them out. It was an even more chaotic state than the battlefields that Olive was used to. There was no part of the field in which he might retreat, for a quiet and objective look at things. Everywhere was engaged, preparing for the same vicious brawl.

And then the first wave of ladders crashed into the wall, threading their way between the crenellations at the wall's top, finding surprisingly good purchase there with the hooks that they secured for themselves.

General Blackthorn dashed forward himself, as one landed in front of him. He had yet to draw his sword. He grabbed the wood with both hands, and with a mighty heave, pushed it. A good handful of soldiers that had already begun to scale it were sent crashing to the ground in one go – though they weren't far enough yet that such a thing would cause them a particular degree of damage.

"OIL! OIL!" The sergeants were set to calling. The soldiers gathered mighty pots of the stuff, and flung it from atop the wall, to compliment the continuous stream of arrow fire. Soon enough, lit torches were thrown after them, and the bottom of the walls became a sea of flames. Screams rose up from the men below, as more than a few were caught full on by casks, and endured the incredible agony of burning alive.

Even with those fires, however, the tide of Tavar's men continued to flow. Some jumped through the flames, straight onto the ladders beyond them. Others found the little pockets where the flames had not spread.

For every ladder that they threw down, there were ten more waiting to take their place. It was a strategy of overwhelm if Oliver had ever seen it. He and his Patrick men that he kept by him were already struggling to keep up.

It was fighting men that he kept with him. He'd had to spare his Commanders for other points around Ernest, giving them to the greater good of overall command. Verdant was a good distance away from him, as were Jorah and Lady Blackthorn. Oliver had almost been tempted to keep Lady Blackthorn close, for the sake of her strength as a Sword, but then he had Gar to fill that role, and though she was a quiet enough girl, Lady Blackthorn still carried a significant presence in command compared to what she had in times past.

Nila had her own section of wall as well. The peasant soldiers had grown used to her, and fond of her, seeing her as often as they had in training. They trusted a girl of the same rank as them, and they had an immense amount of faith in her abilities – as did anyone that had seen Nila with a bow for any prolonged amount of time. But the fact was too that Nila had her own rather weighty experience with command. She hated the battlefield, but such was fate that continually she been forced on it, in positions of high responsibility.

When the first line of soldiers came over the wall, Gar's sword found them before Oliver could even think to move. The young man had been restless in his waiting. He gleefully spilled the first drop of blood, and he forced all those that had attempted to match him in speed into a consolation second place.

With a wry smile, Oliver joined in with him. There were a good deal of peasants under his direct command on that front section of wall, and it was his duty as one of the more experienced soldiers to ensure that whatever trickles of men did reach them were mightily dulled.

For that purpose, he let past some weakened men, that otherwise he might simply have been able to slay. He let the peasants and their weaponry reach out to them to deal the finishing blow. He dragged them all into the fight, even now that they were not yet quite needed.

The battle had only begun, but already, did all the sections of Ernest's walls find themselves in a cruel battle for footing. Such was the advantage of enemy numbers that they could simply send a continuous stream of men at the walls until the bowmen were forced to retreat and see themselves replaced by sword fighting infantry.

All over, that same pattern was coming into fruition. The oil, and the arrows were relegated all too quickly. The defenders of Ernest simply had to focus their weaponry on the tops of the ladders, if they could. They didn't have the time to cull the men before they reached its rungs. All over, they were settling into that cruel rhythm of seemingly relentless fighting.