A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1771 - 1771: The Head of House Patrick - Part 2

He applied all that pressure, without committing entirely, and then it was Hod's job to match it.

The beginnings of a ditch had been dug in front of both gates the night previously. It was a shallow thing, and it went in a ring around the gate, just a few metres from it. It seemed to achieve no real great purpose – not until one saw how it affected those battle ram wielding men.

Though they continued to batter away at the wood in front of them, the ditch prevented them from gaining any real opportunity for a run up. As such, they were more tapping away at the door than they were getting through it. Tavar's Colonels had to quickly opt to lay planks across it instead, but even that seemed a lesser measure, for how unstable they were, and how easily they were made a target of for men with caskets of oil.

If Hod had his way, he would have seen the catapults disabled as well, but he knew just how risky it was to see the gates opened by the slightest bit to have those ditches dug. It had been a risk of the highest sort. To push it any further was to invite disaster.

Then there was the layered way that Tavar had structured his attacks that day. With Hod as his opponent, and with Germanicus unable to cause waves all on his own, Tavar started a lighter, more complicated strategy in an attempt to give Hod more things to deal with.

He'd have a few men charge the wall with their ladders in the centre. They'd cause a stir. Then he'd follow it up with a wider line of mine, down a fuller length of the wall right behind it. Then another straight after them. The result was a rippling of momentum that spilled out beyond just a single charge. It forced the far too responsive defending soldiers into positions that otherwise they would have been unlikely to fall into, and it gave the attackers a greater degree of staying power. It made it far more difficult to continually stay on top of the ladders, and send them hurtling back down.

Oliver's wall had been afflicted with such a thing, and being as far away from Hod as he was, he was at a loss as to how he might deal with it. It felt like he was fighting the sea. Waves and waves kept coming in, and pushing them out of position. The men would climb their ladders, and they'd land with a force that seemed to push the defending men backwards.

Even with Oliver there, that continuous spurt of effort wasn't good for morale. It saw the men drained more quickly than they otherwise might have been. And it threatened to pin him in place.

"General Patrick – no matter where you are on the battlefield, I bid that you keep an eye on King Germanicus. He is your foe to match, whenever possible," Hod had told him before the battle.

So it was that even in attempting to check the current wave assault assailing the southern wall that Oliver was made to keep an eye towards the east, where he could sense Germanicus to be, but could not yet see. Even if the King was to climb to the top of the wall, Oliver wasn't exactly certain that he could do anything to deal with him.

He found himself frowning, as he wracked his brain in his usual way for a plan. He had the option of rallying his troops, as he was accustomed to doing, but against Tavar's waves, that would prove counterproductive in the long term. He'd only see his men exhausted, and for very little gain.

It wasn't a strategy that Oliver had ever faced himself on the field. He was quite sure that Hod was casually handling it himself on the other side of Ernest's walls, and he was likely doing so in tandem with General Blackthorn, and building a victory condition around him. But for himself, he'd been left isolated, without any orders, and without even the Commanders that he knew he could rely on.

Hod had greedily snatched them from him. Nila and Professor Yoreholder were deadly tools with their bows that he was fond of employing relentlessly. Verdant and Jorah he'd made particular use of straight away – and then even Firyr, with a great amount of amusement, Hod was sending him all around the battlefield, to carry out his will.

Those that had once belonged to Oliver entirely, Hod had succeeded in making his own property. As compensation, he left Oliver still with the Minister of Blades and with Gar. Making it clear, both in his order, and in the positioning of his resources, that the only thing expected of Oliver was keeping King Germanicus in check.

Though how it was he was meant to achieve that when the King was positioned such a distance away, Oliver did not know, and he was beginning to panic, when he saw how difficult his men were finding it to keep up on his southern wall.

A horn was blown. A long and deep bellow. After two hours of fighting, that was King Germanicus' signal to join the fight.

With no Generals to face off against and stop him, General Tavar gave him the order only of securing a foothold on the eastern wall. A task that the King was more than equal to, especially now that he was filled with the rage of yesterday's defeat.

"…Why is this fine?" Oliver asked himself with a growl. He was stomping his foot impatiently, looking for a plan to form, or anything of the like – but then that irritating part of him that had caused him to drive a knife through his own hand declared with an absolute certainty that their position was still exactly where it should be. "Gods, I hate you."

It seemed to declare to Oliver that he had only need wait and see. That an opportunity would present itself. That the winds would blow in his favour. But there was nothing in Oliver's logical mind that he could see that could bolster that sense. He was forced to trust in something he despised, because he had truly no other options. He couldn't match the strategies that Tavar held him in place with, nor could he overwhelm the problem by sheer might.