A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1141 The Games of the Mighty - Part 2
1141: The Games of the Mighty – Part 2
1141: The Games of the Mighty – Part 2
“Indeed, my Lord,” Verdant said.
“With such few men, even for night guard, they do seem to present tactical opportunities… However, I daresay that opportunities will not manifest themselves tonight.”
“I expect that you’re right in that regard,” Oliver said, smiling.
“I still feel myself roaring with impatience though.”
“As ever, my Lord, I expect that to be a quality worth cultivating.
Since it seems to be working so well in you, I wonder if I might be right in encouraging it in some of the other men,” Verdant said, half-serious.
“Or, I suppose, a slight amount of imagination strikes that notion down… We would have quite the army if that were the case…”
“I have to say that the training you have managed to commit to in my absence,” Oliver said.
“Truly, I am impressed… Somehow, they still feel like my men.
You and Blackthorn, and Jorah as well… Nay, the whole army has done a remarkable job.”
“We knew you to be hard at work yourself, my Lord,” Verdant said.
“The men trained with that in mind.
Even if you were not with us, I do believe that our progress worked together.
Would you agree, Lady Blackthorn?”
The woman in question gave a quiet nod.
They looked at her for a few seconds longer to see if any more words were forthcoming, but she only gave them a quiet distant stare in response.
When Lady Blackthorn assumed such a mask, it seemed even the Gods themselves could not rouse her from it.
Being accustomed to it as they were, Oliver and Verdant continued their quiet conversation without her.
Karstly left them waiting for nearly an hour where they were, even after the sun had begun to set.
Like quiet sentinels, they prowled the edge of the battlefield, exerting pressure, as Karstly had told them they would.
He even had them run along the side of the Verna encampment for a time, shouting and threatening attacks like he had during the day.
They were half-hearted attempts, at best, but Karstly seemed content to allow them to be such.
Only when the sky was almost completely black did he allow them to make their camp for their evening, and finally gather the rest that they required.
It felt oddly exposed to Oliver, after spending a time on the safety of the Lonely Mountain.
Unlike the Verna, they didn’t bother with stakes around their encampment.
It was only tents and open fires and the most light of guards.
To Oliver, it almost seemed like Karstly was encouraging the Verna to attack him – and if what he had seen throughout the day was anything to go by, Oliver supposed that such a thing might indeed have been the case.
…
…
On the second day, the men ought not to have been as well rested as they were.
They slept as if in the safety of their homes, and not undefended on the wide open plain. ƒгeewebnovёl.com
The stresses of the march there had brought their bodies to a tiredness, and then the excitement of their harrying on the battlefield after had depleted them of all their adrenaline.
There had been nothing left for them except peaceful rest.
They could manage no more alertness.
And, deep down, not a single one of them believed that they would succumb to a night attack.
Slowly and carefully Karstly had built up their trust in him, and now that trust was bordering on absolute.
Once more, they readied themselves for battle, just as the Verna men were readying themselves for war beside them.
The Verna camp was a bustle of activity, and the Stormfront men under Karstly could not help watching as they supped on their own breakfasts, squinting to see if they could make out the figures distances away.
“Those are beautiful women,” one man commented, as he drained the last of his tea.
“How’s you know they’re beautiful when you can barely see them?” Came the response.
“I know,” the man said.
“Trust me,” he said even more firmly, thumping his chest, “when it comes to the matter of women, I know.”
“You’d say that of a rock if it had curves in the right places,” had come the response, to much laughter.
It was the strangest sight to see women in a war camp, and so many of them as well.
Even if they could only barely tell out the shapes, they could see that they were women regardless.
They wore the thin and flowing fabrics so typical of the Verna, only these had been weaved into garments longer than the ones that they had seen the men wear.
These were dresses that trailed along the ground as they walked.
It made each woman seem like a princess in her own right.
One couldn’t help but wonder how they managed to keep their dresses clean, going about their daily activities like that.
That was the sum of their morning.
They were allowed to eat, and then drink, and they were given something to satisfy their interest.
The atmosphere was so oddly relaxed for a group of two thousand men sandwiched between three massive armies that could have swept in and crushed them at any time that they wished.
Nevertheless, no crushing was due to happen before midday, it seemed, for the Verna once again assumed their battle formations, and the men went to their siege weapons in order to continue the bombardment from the previous day.
Likewise, Karstly took his men, and he sat them on the edge of the field, peering down at the Verna, allowing them to start their attack before he would show any signs of intervening.
The Verna did just that.
They charged at the walls and they fired off their catapults as if Karstly and his lot didn’t exist.
It was the exact same formation as yesterday, as from two of the most subtle changes.
“You sneaky dog,” Karstly said, his lips curling up in amusement, as he saw the two misplaced chariot units.
“Did you think I would not notice?”
He directed that question towards Khan who climbed up to the top of his tower, to review the battlefield from on high as he always did.
Those chariot units had been placed innocently enough.
One was at one end of the Verna formation, where the attackers and siege weapons sat, and the other stayed quietly nearly in the encampment at the other end.
