A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1741 - 1741: An Iron Curtain - Part 11

"Perhaps it won't," Oliver said. "However – these are men that I trust and know. If I am to understand the battlefield that I am fighting on even from a distance, it must be through those men. I know not your Blackthorn Colonels well enough."

Colonel Reid wavered on the point of understanding, just for a second, before Oliver gave him another order.

"The Minister of Blades will not enjoy performing his position of command, for he never does, but I will require him on the western wall," Oliver said, sending another order out. "And send word to Nila and Lady Yoreholder. Have them gather a hundred archers with them. We cannot have this constant stream of arrow fire continue without retaliation. We will have them move continuously, as a threat, so that the archers can't sit in place as well as they are doing now."

"Mm. That one, at least, I do see the wisdom in," Colonel Reid said, nodding.

Bit by bit, Oliver assumed command to the degree that he was comfortable with. He threw out his awareness as far as he could, and desperately leaned on Ingolsol and Claudia to do that which he could not. By placing the pieces that he was most familiar with at those critical junctures, he found himself growing ever so slightly more relaxed, even before it was that he started receiving information from them.

He felt as if he was building something that he understood. That, at least, he had the pieces in his hand that he could play. Whereas before he was fumbling mindlessly trying to continue the strategy of a General with far more experience than him.

From below the walls, Tavar watched with a degree of amusement as Oliver sought to gather himself. He allowed himself a small indulgence in seeing just how far his student had come in terms of strategy – and thus far, it did seem, that though there had been an improvement since his time in the Academy, it was far from being enough.

"I suppose we ought to exert a deal more pressure," he said, clenching his fist, and relaying orders of his own to his messengers, to see them increase the intensity of their attacks. He had the catapults change their angle as well, so that they were fired up near towards Oliver and his head, rather than at the wall themselves.

Oliver found himself continually having to duck out the way of those giant flying rocks, which certainly did not make his matters as Commanding General any easier. The only consolation he could offer himself was in the protection that the walls had for him. The angle was far too steep for the catapults to land a shot right on top of him. Each of them was destined to fly straight overhead. But they came low enough that they were bothersome all the same.

"Lord Idris reports a struggle on the eastern wall!" The message came. "He says that the peasantry have yet to find their footing. The burden on the veteran men is too great. They'll be overwhelmed soon enough."

"To the north, Commander Jorah and Firyr are battling harshly," came another message. "Commander Jorah says that they need to find more time to gather themselves. They're going too quickly in their defence. The men are certain to tire soon."

"The Minister of Blades on the western wall is having a hard time rallying his troops," said another. "There's been a breakdown in command. One troop is completely swamped. He says going to deal with it himself."

Oliver took in all that information as best he could. He could well see that Tavar had sent out more men, and that they were streaming up the ladders even faster than before. The pressure was certainly increasing, and as it did so, the cracks in their defence were far more likely to show. All it took was one section of the wall to be lost, and then Tavar would be able to build off that, and secure a landing point for himself that Oliver and his men would struggle to get back.

"Lady Felder and Lady Yoreholder report success in the hunting of enemy archers," came another message. "They claim that they can fire freely, without fear of repercussion."

"There, at least, is one silver lining," Oliver murmured to himself, with a hand on his chin, as he tried to consider the best course of action.

"I will warn you," Reid interrupted. "That whatever strategy you decide upon, it should not endanger the perspective of defence in future days. You cannot engage too harshly now. A siege, after all, is very much a battle of endurance."

"I'm aware. But by the same token, I can't very well allow us to lose Ernest on the very first day either," Oliver said, stewing in his thought. He saw still that the troop that he'd left behind on his own – with now an interim Blackthorn Commander to look over them – was having a marked effect indeed.

The time that they'd spent with such a deal of enemies to slay, and in such a good position, had bolstered the confidence of the peasantry that fought there to admirable levels. They committed to their defence ever more harshly, and to their attacks. Their hesitancy was gone, and because of it, their endurance was increasing.

For their existence, the two troops to either side of them had a much easier time as well. They continually received assistance, even when they did not need it. It was a knock on effect that almost reached as far as the centre of the wall where Oliver currently stood.

He wondered if that was not something that could aim to do from where he already was. Verdant and Firyr and Jorah were all struggling, and the Minister of Blades was the worst off for it. But Oliver couldn't very well send them all reinforcements.

He considered it, and he dared to take a gamble. He thought that, at the very least, Verdant and his eastern wall, and Firyr and Jorah and their northern wall, would be able to last without his interference a little longer.'

But the Minister of Blades was set to solve the problem that was affecting his wall himself. He'd no doubt be leaving a hole in his wake, and that was a hole that would need plugging.