A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 977 - The Chance to Break Through - Part 2

977: The Chance to Break Through – Part 2

977: The Chance to Break Through – Part 2

Tension once more, ever tense.

When Blackthorn leaned over to whisper to Oliver, he flinched at the touch of her hand on his shoulder – the tension was reaching him too.

She did not seem to notice.

“Is that blood?” She asked, pointing to the lead-most man of the scouts.

There did indeed seem to be a splash of red up along his right hand side, but the colour seemed too orange to be blood.

Oliver deferred the question to Verdant.

“That’s a stain, I think,” Verdant said.

“Likely from blood – but it isn’t bloody now.

I’d wager it’s from the men they slaughtered yesterday.”

“A quiet return, then…” Oliver said.

He thought that to be a good sign, at least.

Somehow, they’d managed to keep a quiet approach all this way, and now they were only a short distance away from falling upon the enemy.

“Do you think we’ve gone unnoticed, Verdant?”

He asked that question regardless.

He found that a clean battlefield was the most suspicious one.

If things seemed to be going too well, especially against competent foes, then they had all the more reason to be wary.

“…I would be surprised if that was the case,” Verdant said.

“The question is better: when did they see us?

And what countermeasures have they prepared.”

“The grate that they’re passing through – you doubt that’ll be enough to work in our favour?” Oliver asked.

“I think I would return that question to you, my Lord, for it seems to be you that is in a place of doubt,” Verdant said.

Oliver tapped his finger against the hilt of his sword, biting his lip as he thought it through.

Indeed, the grate was a good place to limit the number of enemies, but it was also a place that pinned any who passed through it into place.

The grates ran through as three reasonably narrow corridors, extending for a good distance before any passers-through were allowed out again.

If they were to be cornered there, then not a single one of them would be able to escape.

That was the strategy that he feared most.

As he debated it internally, General Karstly finished his conversation with scouts, and he held up a hand in some sort of signal.

The men tensed.

The hand turned, and he simply motioned towards him with his fingers, and their shoulders relaxed again.

He was summoning up the Colonels, as he had multiple times before.

The five men detached from their sections down the line, and came galloping past to hold counsel with their General.

Again, they were forced to wait.

Never before had Oliver appreciated just how often the common foot soldier was forced to wait.

Now he was one of them – one of the lowly.

He held a position of command, but he wasn’t privy to the important counsels, or any of the true decision-making.

The fact that he’d been allowed to see the enemy on the hilltop at all had been a rare treat that other Generals would not have afforded him.

The soldiers shuffled as they waited.

The sun was lowering itself in the sky, and the air was beginning to cool.

It wasn’t as cold as it would be in winter, but the spring air didn’t exactly keep a man warm for long – not when the sun was on its way down.

Now their muscles were cooling, and their hearts were growing restless.

They started to think of an evening meal, and they started to think of bedding down for the night.

They were exhausted after the lack of sleep the previous night.

No doubt if they made camp now, it wouldn’t take them long before they drifted off.

The only thing stopping them from relaxing too heavily as they waited was the low thrumming of adrenaline through their veins.

The earlier warning kept them steady.

They knew they wouldn’t make it to camp that night.

They’d have to fight before then.

They wanted to get it well and over with, before their courage fled them.

“…Have you warned Pauline and Amelia?” Oliver asked, going through his head, ticking off all the things that needed to be tended to.

“They know,” Blackthorn replied.

There was a protocol in place for all logistical members.

It was a rather simple one.

Stay inside your carriage at all times, if you wish to live.

A handful of them had brought poisons along with them, in the event that their army lost.

It would free them from the potential burdens of torture or slavery, or a painful death at the hands of the sword.

Both Amelia and Pauline had brought their own as well.

It was a grim thing to think about, and an even grimmer thing to speak of.

Oliver was impressed that Blackthorn had been able to have that conversation.

If that was tended to, then Oliver could think of nothing else that needed sorting.

He ran his fingers along the buckles under his helmet, and he shifted his weight through his chestplate, ensuring that it would stay on as he wished it to.

There were no issues there.

Everything was as it should be.

His men too were in as good a condition as he could hope for from them.

The wagons were in line.

Yorick and his cavalry were nearby, ready for Oliver’s first order.

They just needed to move.

Mercifully, the Colonels soon returned, and they began passing orders from Captain to Captain.

“They’re up ahead,” Gordry told Oliver bluntly when he arrived by the side of the Patrick column.

“At the bottom of this hill, the battle begins.

Warn your men, Patrick, and warn them too to keep quiet.

We still hold the element of surprise.”

That was as much counsel as Oliver was given by his Colonel before he went on to the next Captain down the line.

Oliver exchanged a glance with Verdant.

Neither of them wore smiles.

This was a position the Patrick army was not accustomed to.

They’d been given no plan.

They were being forced to trust that the powers above them would be able to direct them towards victory.

The powerlessness made Oliver reel.