A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1213 The Victorious - Part 1
1213: The Victorious – Part 1
1213: The Victorious – Part 1
“BEHOLD!” He bellowed, for the benefit of his men, and the benefit of Khan.
“THE HEAD OF GENERAL HARME!”
General Harme was the final wall that barred Khan’s rear from the likes of Karstly. freewёbnoνel.com
Khan looked behind him, in hearing that it had crumbled.
He sat atop his horse, with a glaive in hand, waiting for the moment when he and Blackwell’s blades might cross.
He’d anticipated that moment enough that he’d started to see flashes of their battle in advance of General Blackwell yet getting close enough to match him.
He dared to think that with such mighty Command on his side – all the Command that came with a hold over nearly a hundred thousand men – would empower him to victory over Lord Blackwell.
He knew that, from the look of him and from the way he did battle, Blackwell was far more comfortable in the melee than he was.
And yet he’d dared to make that gamble.
He dared to risk, and he still wanted to.
Even if he was to die in the moment, what a mighty martial experiment it would have been.
The knowledge would have left him enlightened.
He would have died a wiser man.
However, Harme’s death put an end to that.
He might have been a General, but above all that, he was the Verna Commanding General.
Honourable defeat was not the only option that he had.
He’d brought with him the lives of so many men, and so many civilians, and on their back, they carried the lives of even more civilians, in the towns and cities that lay beyond.
He wasn’t afforded the luxury of an easy death.
The chains of his responsibility kept him anchored in place.
The golden helm that he wore atop his head, he plucked it free with both hands, and held it aloft, long enough for General Blackwell and all his soldiers to see.
And then that helm, he tossed aside, along with his pride.
He was the leader above all leaders, and he wasn’t allowed the dignity of pride.
He had to put the lives of his people above all else.
Even if they had lost, so many soldiers’ lives still remained.
With his death, they would have all been put to the sword, he had no doubt.
Unable to secure their lives with weapons in hand, he had to trust in the enemy’s honour instead.
He said the words that he dreaded to say.
“THE VERNA ARMY PRESENTS ITS SURRENDER,” he said in the Stormfront tongue, fighting to keep his voice level against the embarrassment.
“Do you accept, General Blackwell?”
The air was frigid with tension, as General Blackwell’s charge finally came to a halt.
The spears that needed his sides stopped with them.
He held his blade out in front, right next to a man’s neck, just a slither away from being cut down.
The great beast that was General Blackwell drank it all in, putting aside his want for blood just for a second.
He did as General Khan had done before him, and he raised himself to the rank of Commanding General, weighing the lives of his men against that of the enemy, and weighing the future of their campaign against accepting surrender here and now.
The future he saw must have been a favourable one.
Oliver’s mouth was dry as he waited for his response.
Never before did he think that so many lives had been placed on a single man’s shoulders, reduced to a single instant.
So many could have perished, so many stories could have ended… Against their necks, it was General Blackwell that held that mighty executioner’s axe.
And on that day, he chose to withdraw it, along with his sword.
“THE STORMFRONT ARMY ACCEPTS,” he said.
“THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, HONOURED ENEMIES.
AND HONOURED ALLIES, BELLOW OUR VICTORY SO THAT THE GODS KNOW IT!”
With many a tear being shed, and much clanging of steel, the Verna men began to throw their weapons to the ground.
Some clung to them longer than others, looking at the man next to them for reassurance, not willing to let it go.
Not willing to give up quite yet.
There was a fear in placing one’s life in another man’s hands – a fear that was different from fighting with sword against sword.
Those tears, and that quiet sadness and terror was drowned out by the mighty bellows of far fewer Stormfront men.
“””””AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!””””
“””””AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!””””
“””””AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!””””
“CLAUDDDDIAAA!
HEAR OUT VICTORRRRYYY!”
“HEAR OUR VICTORYYYY!”
“THE STORMFRONT EMPIRE RISES ONCE AGAIN!”
“TO GENERAL BLACKWELL!”
“”””TO GENERAL BLACKWELL!””””
“GLORY TO THE STORMFRONT!”
“”””GLORY TO THE STORMFRONT!!””””
It was a morale high enough to make the ground tremble.
It was made all the more potent by the void in the Verna men, as the last of their positive emotions were sucked away.
Chapter 19 – The Victorious
It would have been pleasant to say that the campaign was done there and then.
With the Verna army under Khan defeated, that should have been their greatest problem overcome.
Oliver thought as much as well.
He’d thought it was to secure victory, and then it was to take care of the wounded, but with as many prisoners as they’d taken, he could not have been more wrong.
Three days the negotiations had taken place for, and still they showed no signs of any sort of conclusions.
A hundred thousand Verna men, and all the civilians that they’d brought with them, remained in Stormfront custody.
Even though they’d had every bit of steel that they owned confiscated, it was hard not to feel intimidated by their sheer number.
The peace talks took place in the leftmost tower, and all the Generals of note and their attendants had been squirrelled away, without so much as a word for their lessors as they waited with bated breath for the conclusion to the talk.
The men had made their camp within seeing distance of the wall, and at least they were finally allowed the opportunity to rest.
It was a rest that both Blackthorn and Verdant had most urgently needed.
