A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1161 Two Generals - Part 6
1161: Two Generals – Part 6
1161: Two Generals – Part 6
“Then accept what our General has spoken.
He has proved himself, has he not?
He has granted us victories where there ought to have been none.
His orders baffled us more than once back then, and if they baffle us again, we need not fear,” Lady Blackthorn said.
“Of all the Captains you are to be made to serve, does the thought of obeying Oliver Patrick bother you that much?”
“He is much too young, my Lady,” Yoran said.
He was defiant, despite his meekness.
“Is age such a factor for you?” Lady Blackthorn said.
“Do you hesitate to swing your sword when you see these Verna men are younger than you would otherwise believe?
Do you think they would hesitate to do the same for you?”
“No, but… That is another matter.
The young should not be granted the burden of such weighty leadership,” Yoran said.
“And the incompetent should be given it in their place?” Lasha snorted.
“You spoke of lacking opportunity.
Fight under Oliver Patrick, and you might find yourself with that opportunity, Colonel Yoran.
The Gods seem to know that you shall need it.”
She left the chastised Colonel with that, and returned to her previous place, looking as indignant as Oliver had ever seen her.
Anyone would have thought that it was she that was getting insulted.
Besides, Oliver didn’t think that the insult to him deserved that much of a reaction, for all that Yoran had said was true.
He wouldn’t have wanted to fight for a youth lesser in rank than him either.
“What a mess,” he muttered to himself.
General Karstly and Blackwell had already grouped on, and were moving off to the battlefield on the left.
Their primary targets were no doubt the siege weapons.
They needed to keep the castles well and truly alive if they wanted to continue their chances against such large Verna forces.
As they busied themselves, Oliver was quickly beginning the pressure to do the same.
But even thinking of the right battlefield was overwhelming.
Twenty thousand men, against six thousand, where five thousand of those men were locked into defending the castle?
The odds seemed hopeless.
Where did he even begin?
General Karstly and Blackwell seemed to engage in all sorts of things that Oliver didn’t realize had to be carried out.
From how they continued to send crows as the battle went on, and how they adjusted their men according to the subtlest of things, responding to threats that Oliver didn’t even know existed.
Could he even hope to emulate them?
“I would say, the first order of business should be sending our General Rainheart a crow, informing him of the events that have taken place,” Lombard said.
“You think he’ll accept them?” Oliver asked.
“We can’t even get the men gathered here to accept them.
He’s going to feel like a fool being forced to fight with a mere Captain like make.”
“Then force him to see you as something other than a fool,” Lombard said.
“You are quite right.
He will be a stranger to the achievements that you’ve secured on this campaign.
He will have been lucky to have even heard whisperings of them.
If you want even the slightest amount of cooperation from the man, you’re going to have to earn it.”
Oliver scratched his head.
That was another point of contention.
The likelihood of those five thousand men moving with him, even if he secured an opportunity for them to pour out of their gates in order to do so, seemed fightingly slim.
He and General Rainheart were complete strangers.
“Though, in another sense, he also is not aware of the circumstances around your ascension,” Verdant noted.
“He will not be aware of the creative means that you took on the battles up to here.
He will simply be forced to assume an extraordinary degree of competence.”
That made Captain Lombard grimace.
“Lord Idris, if you would spare Captain Patrick the slightest degree of admonishment, I would think that in time he would learn not to step so far out of line.”
“Ah, but it is his unusual stepping that is what makes him so interesting, is it not, Captain Lombard?” Verdant said with a smile.
“If this were any other General…” Lombard said sighing.
“No, I suppose there’s no point lamenting that.
I doubt it was an accident that Lord Blackwell placed two oddities, such as you and Karstly together.”
“And that he placed you along with us,” Oliver said.
“Perhaps he thought that we needed a good bit of common sense to keep us grounded?”
He grinned as he said it, but Lombard didn’t even try to return the smile.
The man looked thoroughly exhausted.
The hair that still remained on the sides of his bald head was greyer than it had been a few years ago, and the lines in his forehead seemed even deeper.
He wasn’t just exhausted – he seemed to be growing older rather rapidly over the course of the campaign.
“Orders, then, Captain?” Yoran shouted over to Oliver somewhat spitefully, interrupting the meandering discussion that they’d had going on.
The man shouted for it, possibly knowing just as well as the rest of them that Oliver didn’t have the first clue what he ought to do.
All he had was what Lombard had suggested earlier, and so he seized upon it.
“Colonel Yoran, if you would see to it that a crow is dispatched for General Rainheart, informing him of our situation.
And if you could make it as… neutral as possible, that would be appreciated.”
“I shall overlook the message before it is sent,” Verdant said.
“Not out of distrust, Colonel Yoran, but understanding.
Your emotions being what they are, they cannot be allowed to influence the state of the battlefield, you understand.”
“…But of course, Lord Idris,” Yoran said, his mouth so deeply upturned that he seemed ready to spit.
His face was a permanent red now, and thin black hair was clinging to the sides of his face from the sweat.
Any more excitement seemed as if it would see the man pop like hot embers.
