A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1100 Movements of the Battle Board - Part 3
1100: Movements of the Battle Board – Part 3
1100: Movements of the Battle Board – Part 3
It was a fact that the other officers in that tent no doubt saw as well.
Most didn’t seem to approve, given the expressions that they wore on their faces.
Captain Lombard was amongst them.
He looked ready to rush forward and clamp a hand over Oliver’s mouth at any second.
“That said…” Karstly murmured.
“Competence carries a degree of weight.
You can leverage your competence, Captain, but only to the smallest degree.
The trouble that you cause should not outweigh your usefulness.”
“And I will ensure that it does not,” Oliver said.
“As you have ensured already, whether it be by instinct, or blind confidence in your abilities,” Karstly said.
“Very well, I have taken your recommendations in account, Captain, and I shall dismiss – as much as I can – the arrogance that it takes to deliver them to your superior.
You, Captain Patrick, are a piece that one needs to handle most carefully.”
He dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
“Now I will hear no more of you.
I do not need my attention to be taken up by matters that as of yet do not contain much usefulness.
There will come a time when our battlefield needs the sort of individualism that you provide, but for now, I say again that you ought to remain silent.”
He coughed into his hand.
He was ever the theatrical man.
He used gestures as tools.
Not a single one seemed to be delivered with thought.
“As for the rest of you, I assure you that I understand those looks of misgivings.
But until you can replicate the achievements that this troublesome boy has managed to gather for himself, your voice does not carry as much weight as his.
Do you understand?
It is both a boon, and a dagger likely to be placed at one’s back.
One’s favour amongst my army will be decided by your competence.
If you wish to be heard, even you are of lowly rank, then you had merely need show that you are worth hearing.”
A few settled down at that, but not many.
The Blackthorns in particular didn’t like it.
That a General would have to negotiate for the obedience of one of his Captains was a matter so preposterous to them as to permanently twist their lips into a frown.
“Then, if that is settled, we will begin the planning posthaste.
Colonel Gordry, you will be part of our first dispatchment.”
…
…
So it was, on the morning of the following day that two thousand men departed from the lonely mountain, with General Karstly at the head of them, to perform the first of many ranging missions, designed to slow both the advance of the Khan army, and its organization.
As Karstly had said, an army of that size needed an aggressive amount of organization to see it governed properly.
If they were to sow the chaos as they intended to, then it would take that much longer for them to set up their offensive positions, and begin their sieges upon the Blackwell captured castles.
“You seem… composed, my Lord,” Verdant noted.
The fact that Oliver was up early to see the departure of those men was at least evidence of his want to be a part of them.
But usually some other trace of his irritation would be present on his expression, or in the clenching of his fist.
On that day, however, he merely remained neutral.
“I do not feel it, Verdant,” Oliver said.
“At the very least, I am understanding of the fact that I have been left out of their dispatchment.
My weakness in the battle with Khan won me this position, and it’s up to me to win it back.”
“The matter of your hand, my Lord…” Verdant said, carefully selecting his words, and carefully evaluating Oliver’s expression to see whether it was a matter that he ought to pursue.
“It is not my secret to share, Verdant,” Oliver said.
“But be assured, it is not something that we can rely on.
Not even something that I believe was intentional.
For it to be repeated again seems like a matter of impossible.”
“As you say, my Lord,” Verdant said, nodding, and pursuing the matter no further.
As much as those eyes of his saw, there were also times when they knew to turn themselves away, knowing that certain matters they should not be allowed to see.
“…What then do you intend to do while they are departed?
They might be gone for as long as a week.”
“Barring the duties that we have here, once more, I think I will train,” Oliver said.
That was all he had on his mind at the moment.
There was an area where it was obvious to him that he held weakness, and he wished to smash that weakness into pieces, using all that he had learned on the battlefield.
Would that he could do even more than that, Oliver would have been excited to.
More battles would have been a boon, if only to test out his newfound control of the battlefield, using his strategy more strongly than even just his sword.
Still, that wasn’t to say that something new could not be achieved before arriving at those battlefields.
“The other men seem to be intent on training as well,” Verdant murmured.
“Had you spoken to them?
It is unusual for them to gather without the order to.”
“I haven’t said a word,” Oliver replied.
“Curious…” Verdant said, looking in the direction of the tents.
Nearly a third of their men were gathered outside, engaging in some form of training.
Some sparred, others swung their swords by their lonesome, practising their form, and others still grabbed whatever weights they had on hand – for the most part, rocks – to perform the most basic of their strength training needs.
For the most part, they were composed of the peasantry and slaves that had fought with Oliver for a while.
It was something that they had picked up from him.
On the worst battlefields, where the going was likely to be long, training was a way of exerting control.
It allowed a man to calm his mind to a certain degree, believing that he was doing all he could.
