A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Chapter 1872 - 1872: Fighting the Void - Part 4

"""FOR THE STORMFRONT!""" They shouted, and Queen Asabel shouted with them, raising her fist. She too submitted herself to that cause. It was the very reason she had dared to assume the mantle of Queen.

Tiberius snarled his dissatisfaction. "You wench," he said, "you had to go and ruin it, didn't you?"

When those plated men finally reached the spears of Skullic's soldiers, on that flat ground that they had conquered, they found a wall of resistance that towered far above what they had faced before.

"TAKE THEM ON YOUR SPEARS, RECEIVE THEIR CHARGE, AND HOLD!" Skullic said, stealing a spear for himself, so that he might temporarily join the wall. The armoured men came into them at a jog. Enough force to wind Skullic and his men, but not enough to break them – not when their General was as he was. In his mind, for a charge of ten thousand, the weight that they'd received was to be expected.

He grinned, as he felt their feet slipping back on the snowy ground, for he knew, in just two steps, they'd come to a complete halt. "You bastards," he told them, elated. "You might be the finest soldiers in all the Stormfront."

The men grinned along with him. They could feel what was to come next, for the strength of the Command that they felt flowing from their General. It was a matter of timing, Skullic knew. It was a swift charge that could defeat an enemy of twice one's number – but the key to that charge was timing, and just now, those plated men had delivered the perfect timing into his wanting hands.

Then, they did come to a halt, and with the greatness of fire that he'd once been renowned for, when he had first come to the battlefield, Skullic exploded. "CHARGE MEN OF MINE!"

He gave that order, even with their weapons still locked up against the enemy. They were locked in place, in what should have been a vicious grappling match. But Skullic's style of Command had always been thus. He always expected more of his men than others – he always had a greater belief in them than others, not in the least bit aware that he was the very reason that allowed them to fly as high as he did.

When he asked it of them, following Skullic's own example, they delivered. Skullic thrust forward, pushing with that borrowed spear, slamming a man through the gut, drawing the blood, and then drawing his sword and rushing into the gap that he had created.

He went to work in a controlled hurry, opening his gap wider. His bodyguard rushed to do the same. Between themselves, they were seeing the centre of their foe crushed, and they might have provided the funnel that their men needed to break through to a fully fledged charge of their own. But those men did not need it. Right on the edge of breaking, treading water in a dark, churning sea, they'd found it again. The light cast by the General they trusted, along with the will needed to exert the fullest level of their strength.

They paid them back in full, those armoured soldiers, without a shred of fear in them, that had seen them pushed back twice before. The timing was absolute, and when those Skullic men applied the strength of their pressure through their spears, they found the enemy give a step to yield, and then within the next step, they were set to toppling, like a row of iron tins.

Then they were rushing in, tossing their spears aside, preferring the swords. They dove in up close, and in person, bashing against the strength of that armour that stood between themselves and their well-equipped enemy, and showing not the slightest shred of fear in the process. It was by sheer enthusiasm, rather than skill, that saw those men of Tiberius overwhelmed. Skullic's men bandied forward, lured by the sight of those banners that had hung forever in their faces, mocking in the shining of their jewels. They had served as instruments of fear just a short few minutes before, but now they presented themselves as targets.

"URAH!" Skullic bellowed, cutting down the banner at the shaft with his sword, targeting it above the man that wielded it, and then battering away the attempts of Tiberius' men to stop it from hitting the ground. He slew them for their efforts, drenching himself in their blood, and once the banner was on the floor, he saw it trampled, much to the jubilation of his men.

"DOWN WITH THE FALSE EMPEROR!" They cried, rushing to do the same, and it was with quick hands that they saw it done. One banner after the other was wrestled from highly motivated hands that sought to keep them in place, and each time they were dropped, the Skullic men made sure to trample all over them, as if it were covered in bugs rather than jewels.

Back to the hill, those well-armoured men were pushed, losing more than half their number in the process. They were unable to find the strength to slow the momentum that Skullic and his lot were building up. In Skullic's mind, by now, their numbers had finally been reduced to equal, and in that stage of battle, he was not the sort of General to let a dangerous enemy off easily, without paying the full price.

Before they could make their way back down the hill, Skullic swept behind them, completing a total encirclement, and then beginning another charge at their rears, slamming them between two opposing forces. They slew them with that same unexpected level of resistance that they had started the battle with, for each man truly did seem far mightier than a normal infantry soldier ought to have been, but now, having expected it, and having built up the requisite momentum in order to deal with it, they were not in the slightest bit thrown off. And soon enough, all thousand of them were dealt with, to great cries of joy from the Skullic men, and from the rest of the Blackwell army.

"Yes!" Asabel said, a little too loudly, as she pumped her fist. Lancelot gave her a warning look, reminding her to be regal in front of so many men, and it was with a hint of embarrassment that she drew back.