A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1745 - 1745: A Long Slumber - Part 2

And so, one really had to ask, why it was that, on midday of the third did, it did seem as if the northern wall had been taken entirely beyond repair.

Tavar had managed to land two mighty forces of men, and they battled their way steadily towards the stairs that led down into Ernest. Those stairs were barricaded heavily, but that didn't mean a man couldn't worm his way past them. All it would take were a handful of men, and they would be in very real trouble of losing the siege entirely.

To the south, Blackthorn once more was forced to do battle with Germanicus. The attention he was devoting to command instead was focused entirely on the man to the very front of him. And Oliver, who so tried to come to the aid of the General, instead found himself in a far better position to help the landed north wall instead.

He'd drifted towards the eastern wall, with the intention of seeing his troops inspired once again. That was when Germanicus had struck, and that was exactly when the north wall had seemed to buckle, as if out of nowhere.

Germanicus was one thing – but the timing on the north's walls collapse seemed far too perfect.

From a good distance away – where he could not even see the effects that his strategy had on the north wall – Tavar continued to give his messages with the same calm air of command that he had on both days previously.

His own men had fallen into dispirment after the performance of the day before – but that wasn't a mistake that he or Germanicus had made. Nor had they really tried to do anything different this day to make up for it. As far as Tavar was concerned, his strategy was as conventional as ever. Use the attention grabbing figure of Germanicus to draw in the enemy's officers, and in the meantime, stage a more forceful attack towards the north.

As far as what had caused that attack to the north to succeed where others had failed, it was not until Oliver was right next to it that he understood why.

There were sections of those men that were animated to degrees of morale beyond the norm. They carried with themselves the strong whiff of command. It wasn't the entirety of the force present. They were sergeants, and otherwise Commanders of the Second Boundary. But for those men of rank to be so animated brought a natural animation to the rest of the troops. It was an incredibly subtle thing. A strategy of the most conventional sort for a normal General, but Tavar had managed to exercise it with such a weight that it brought them all into a crushingly terrible position.

Firyr and Jorah had been relieved of the command that they'd had over the northern wall – but not entirely. They'd still been given two troops each to oversee. Seemingly just out of a purpose of experimentation from General Blackwell, to see how far he could push the Commanders that Oliver valued so highly.

The two of them seemed to be the very reason that the northern wall was hanging on at all. They'd managed to rally their men towards the centre, next to the Blackthorn Colonel who held overall command, and with a desperateness, they were trying to cut a way through the enemy so that they might reach him. But that was a thing easier said than it was done.

Oliver rushed, for that was all he could do. Gar kept with him. The only comment General Blackthorn had as to Gar's eternal following of Oliver was "it seems you have a Sword that you keep unsheathed." Since then, he had neglected to mention it at all.

He rushed, but still he was unlikely to be fast enough. Allied men were being forced into the spiked barriers that guard the stairs. One man saw himself skewered on the wood of one stake. It was only a matter of time before the enemy clambered over them, and saw some damage done.

On the right wing of the northern wall, Oliver passed Lady Blackthorn. Naturally, she had not failed to miss the same thing that Oliver had spotted. She'd been trying to work her way towards it for a while, but the relentless waves of Tavar's meant continued to sail their way to tops of the walls, and it was all she could do to see them held back.

"MEN OF MINE, COWER NOT!" Oliver bellowed, as he and Gar joined the battle from the right, slamming into the flanks of those Tavar men that sought to see Blackthorn slowed.

With a great cry, the troops rallied themselves together, including Lady Blackthorn herself, who danced to the front line like an eel, and skewered three men that had been attempting to get once more up over the side of the wall.

It was the smallest bit of fire, when compared to the overall battlefield, but it burned hotly where it was allowed to. Each man found themselves just that slight bit more animated. It lent their weapons an extra strength, and almost an extra reach, when they were willing to step out of position to lunge at those foes bravely.

It allowed that deadlock that Blackthorn had been attempting to fight her way through for a good while to be broken within the span of an instant. She didn't lift her face into a smile to celebrate the victory, as matted with blood as it had become. But from the fervour with which she joined to fight by Oliver, as soon as a freeing of position allowed it, seemed to indicate her emotion on the matter regardless.

There was still the issue of their lagging speed, however. No matter how quickly they pierced through, they didn't seem likely to move quickly enough to cut off the enemy before they pierced through the stairs, and down into central Ernest.

The situation was bad enough that the only plan Oliver could imagine in his mind was one in which he led troops down the stairs after them, and prayed that they could round them up before they started lifting the heavy beams that had secured Ernest's main gates in place.