A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1749 - 1749: A Long Slumber - Part 6

It was a move that Tavar had delivered lightly. For all the danger it had put the defenders of Ernest in, to him, it was a mere light and testing blow. He had every expectation that the fork would be repelled, in some form or another. And yet, here he was, seeing one of the threats that he had presented working its way to a total victory.

Germanicus hounded General Blackthorn with a viciousness that allowed no opportunity to rest. He made none of the mistakes in underestimating him that he had on the first day. That General Blackthorn was hanging on at all was the real achievement.

And Germanicus was shouting to his men as well. He would take a few moments here and there to bellow at them. His goal – as Tavar had given him – was to take command of the Southern wall entirely. Not simply the head of General Blackthorn.

Tavar himself had not expected Germanicus to be able to take that order and execute it to such an effective degree, however. He was like a different man when his focus wasn't so single-minded. There were multiple little landing points, along the length of the wall that found themselves being secured.

It was almost careful – almost. Germanicus would batter Blackthorn just enough that the General would have a hard time delivering orders of his own. He made sure that his footing was steady before he delivered each strike. The man had a genuine will not to lose, and for a creature that was as strong as King Germanicus already was, that was a rather terrifying thing indeed.

With a stroke of his beard, Tavar reflected on his situation, and the good deal of troops that he still held in reserve. He pondered it, and then he glanced at the sky. "At this rate, the siege will be over with by sundown," he said. "…I wonder why it was that I supposed this would drag on far longer than it is set to?"

At Tavar's age, when his mind wandered, it was his experience and his instincts that he had to rely on, to ensure that he wasn't forgetting something. Only when all three were aligned did Tavar tend to act. It brought a level of understanding to the battlefield that went beyond that of a normal man, or normal General. It was as if three different people were drinking in and making the decisions as one, as some sort of counsel.

It was likely that as well that brought such a calm to Tavar when he was doing his commanding. For as mighty as the man was, his forwardness was almost casual. He never got too caught up in himself. It was always just the perfect amount. Part of that sense – Tavar had to admit to himself – was that he didn't really attribute his many victories to his own efforts. He felt eternally like he was walking a tightrope of some sort. That it was fortune, or else something beyond himself, that brought him victory. When it was not his hand, but something else, something beyond him that allowed him his continued success, then who was Tavar to fret and second guess himself, knowing that he'd never held the capacity from the start.

"Ah," Tavar said all of a sudden, as a part of him spotted something that his eyes had not drank in yet. He saw, on the eastern wall, a sudden whirlwind of activity. His men were being thrown off the wall at a speed that only the northern wall earlier had been able to replicate – and yet, General Patrick had still been unable to move. He smiled his understanding, and relaxed once more, as those three different senses that were within him once more aligned. "That must be our good friend Minister Hod. So it was you that we were waiting for, was it?"

All it took was a sudden shift in formation, and Tavar knew very well the presence of his old friend. A young man of the most acute, terrifying potential, and with a personality that Tavar had never been able to remedy.

Hod's effect began in the east, but it ran all the way to the west. Two streams of men, rounding the corners of their walls, rushing to the southern wall, with a speed and a freedom that they ought not have been allowed.

It was the first time Tavar had ever seen Hod's brilliance on an actual battlefield, but he had always been convinced of the might that it would carry, even though Hod's work had nearly always been purely that of theory. His was a pure intelligence in strategy that went beyond mere military theorem – he applied it fluidly to the world as a whole. To the politics of the kingdom, and to the very governance of his own heart.

Those two streams of men that he'd set to flowing down towards the south were one thing. It was a good question to be asked how Hod had managed to take command at all, or just how far his command extended, but Tavar asked it not.

If Hod was here, then there was only one assumption to be had: every man and woman within his radius belonged to him. They were his pawns to see used as he saw fit.

And so it was that such an assumption quickly became true. As fluid as a cup filled with water, the opening that had been made on the east and west walls, as they gave up their men to save the southern wall, was quickly filled in by those fiery troops of the north that still found themselves with nothing to do.

There was a veritable current to it all. That victory that Oliver Patrick had secured, and had been unable to make use of, save for his boosting of morale through command, Hod quickly turned into a dangerous swirling current that sought nothing less than the head of King Germanicus.