A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1155 Equal Scales - Part 10
1155: Equal Scales – Part 10
1155: Equal Scales – Part 10
The second another Third Boundary man intruded on the scene, though, those Rogue Commandant men were forced to look his way.
Even with a single hand, Lombard was a force to be reckoned with.
He swung down, using all the speed of his charge, to attack the taller man with his sword.
Barely, just barely, the man managed to raise his half-moon blade up to deflect the strike, but he was sent skidding away for it, his forearms ringing with the vibration from the force of the attack.
“Comrade!” His companion caller.
“I am fine,” the man replied, before his comrade could offer his assistance.
Soon, however, there was no assistance to be offered.
In the short interval between when the taller man had turned around, and between Lombard’s next attack, Oliver arrived.
There was no missing his approach.
The shorter man had been positioning so that his eyes could track him the full way – but Lasha had kept him busy, and all he had sensed from his foe was the might of another approaching Third Boundary man.
There was no reason to show excessive fear.
“How…?” And yet now his head flew through the air.
The horse had approached him at full gallop.
He’d timed everything to perfection, and still his head had been severed, as if his armour didn’t offer the slightest shred of resistance, and as if his eyes were blind to the movement of the enemy.
And in truth, Oliver had ensured that they were.
It might have seemed a gallop, but there was more to Walter than that.
A final squeeze, to lend him further speed – and then it was Oliver’s speed that took over.
Two hands on the blade, and there was no Third Boundary man in all the realm that could defeat him.
This was the Style of Overwhelm, a Style long forgotten.
He’d ceased to think of his Styles, for now he embodied them, and it was Overwhelm that he and Ingolsol found themselves enamoured with, and it was Overwhelm that his enemies fell by.
“Brot—!” Came the attempted shout, as the taller man looked over his shoulder, but a blade cut him off before he could finish.
In the same charge, without even turning his horse, Oliver’s blade had flashed twice, and two heads had fallen, along with the red plumed helmets that had sat on their heads.
“We’re leaving,” Oliver said.
He turned around and plunged into the sea of men before they could even begin to process what had happened.
His own men were left stupefied.
Verdant had been sent ahead with Yorick, just before Oliver had made his entrance, but he’d hardly been given the time he needed to intrude on the battle between the Third Boundary men.
He’d felt a rush of wind breeze past him, and then he’d seen his Lord streaming on ahead, and a few moments later, the deed was done.
“He’s grown stronger…” Verdant murmured to himself, feeling his Fragment of Bohemothia stir within him.
It was a sentiment echoed by more than a few eyes, both of loyal servants, and intrigued observers.
Not a single one of them was able to immediately lurch after the fleeing Captain.
Their eyes still needed a few seconds to process what had occurred.
Lombard stared at the heads, then after the mounted young man that had left them.
“Dominus…” Is all he managed to say.
It was the only explanation he could offer.
There was but one man in his mind capable of executing that level of overwhelm.
His rationality forced him towards that conclusion, in a bid to remain in control.
“The Fourth Boundary?” Lasha asked herself aloud.
She thought she was accustomed to Oliver’s strength by now, and so she was surer than anything that this was something beyond which she had experienced.
Jorah shook his head though.
He had no sense for the Boundaries, for he had not experienced them himself.
He only had a sense for the information that he’d gathered, and he knew that this Oliver Patrick that he saw, as overwhelming as he was, still did not match what an Oliver Patrick of the Fourth Boundary ought to look like.
“Gather yourselves!” Verdant shouted.
He was quicker to process it than the rest.
Even as his heart thumped in excitement, he had enough calm to thaw the ice that Oliver had left in his wake.
“Captain Lombard, we shall follow you!”
The Captain could do nothing but nod.
It made sense that his men would leave first, given that they were closer to the exit that Oliver had carved through the men.
Still, he found himself having to force his heels to his horse, as if his body were stiff from weeks of inactivity.
“…Mm,” Karstly grunted, seeing the retreat.
He tapped his fingers against his saddle, tossing his head from side to side in an exaggerated display of thinking.
It was a manner most unbecoming of a noble, and his retainers were more than exasperated to see it.
Karstly had ceased to keep up such pretenses though.
He was as eccentric as they came.
When he found himself enamoured by an idea, or a thought, he would forget everything else and simply pursue it in his curiosity.
The distant Verna chariots were now all the closer.
Their wheels turned with angry clicks, and the men from the back of them let loose a series of shouts, as they frantically tried to urge their eager horses into even faster strides.
It did no good, though.
There was naught more they could do to hasten themselves.
The Patrick men were already beginning to break through the reformed encirclement, following after Captain Lombard.
But still, even then, it seemed to be a near thing – the front runners of the chariots were only a short distance away.
The blades turning on the hubs of their wheels yearned for blood, and it seemed as if they might well get it.
In response to the danger, General Karstly stood unmoving.
He’d already brought the men to safety that had dared to follow him.
He seemed to be of the opinion that if Oliver Patrick had decided to play reckless, then he could play reckless to the very end, and he would only have the strength of his own calculations to blame if the speed of their men fell short of the chariots.
