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A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 956: The Frontline - Part 8
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"I do not think I can give much advice in that regard, I'm afraid," Oliver responded carefully, feeling very much like he was in a fencing match. "I do not intend to do anything worthy of rumour, it simply happens."
"Oh, indeed?" The man said, his eyebrow twitching ever so slightly. "Then, perhaps, the key to a good bit of impulsive surprise is not to think about it?"
"But now you are already thinking about it, Willem, and you've got us trapped down a route of conversation better avoided," Lord Blackwell said.
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Willem laughed aloud at that, "Quite true," he said. "Do forgive me, gentlemen. I am sure you're here on business."
"Now you've already met one of my officers. Colonel Willem. He commands a thousand men," Blackwell said. "Remember his face, as you ought to remember the other faces that you meet. You never know when you might be fighting alongside each other."
"Sooner, rather than later, I do hope," Colonel Willem said, smiling lightly at the introduction. "It will be a pleasure to see just what Dominus' son can do on the field of battle. On a proper field of battle, that is."
There was a certain edge to the way he said that latter half of the sentence that did not go unnoticed by Oliver, nor Lombard. Lombard gave the man a stern look on Oliver's behalf, whilst Blackwell dismissed the exchange with a puff of his pipe, staring at Oliver intently.
"You look hungry, boy," Blackwell noted. "Are you that eager for the battlefield?"
"I am eager to see it in its entirety, General," Oliver said honestly. "I do not do well with waiting on the unknown."
"Few men do," Blackwell said. "You'll find your opportunity in the coming days, if you're willing to take it. The Verna plan to take these castles back. Given our numerical disadvantage, it would make sense to endure a siege here. However, we shall be doing no such thing. We do not have the time for a siege.
We have much work to do, and too few men to do it. Every move has to be worth twice as much."
"You're sending an advance force?" Oliver asked.
"Indeed," Blackwell nodded. "We will secure ourselves a stepping stone immediately. Fifty thousand men is an impressive number – if they can use every man to their fullest effectiveness. We have been granted the tools of Lord Blackthorn. He's a temperamental man, but his soldiers are as wily as they come. We will use them to drive a wedge through the centre of the Verna troops."
"I'm sure he doesn't care for such explanations, General," Willem said. "From the look in his eye, he seems far more eager to get out on the field."
"You know what it is that makes an attack work, Colonel," Blackwell replied. "It only requires a single spark. I do not care where that spark comes from. If a few sentences are all I need to give that spark its heat, then I will not begrudge it. I have spoken to you, boy, and I tell you my intentions. An advance force of five thousand will be sent.
The fighting will be bloody. Do you have a wish to be a part of it?"
"Of course," Oliver replied without a second of hesitation, well aware of just how intensely the rest of the room was studying him, as he gave his reply to that question.
All of a sudden, that tension dissipated, and a good few shoulders relaxed. Even Lord Blackwell gave the smallest of smiles.
"The fighting will be bloody," Blackwell said. "I say it again. I know youth has a way of running away from us. Do not be taken in too rigidly by its offered confidence. Think of your men. Are they ready for such a task?
This five thousand that I shall send – it will need to be without cracks."
"They are, my Lord," Oliver said. "Their intentions are as firm as my own. It will do them good to be blooded quickly. We have been told continually how different war is to the battles that we have fought, and we have felt for ourselves how it feels to be amongst such large numbers. It will set our nerves at ease to see that the same tools that we have honed will be as effective here as elsewhere."
"Tell me of these men of yours," Blackwell said. "There was a girl with red hair… Her name, I forget, but I have heard praise for her from both Tolsey and Lombard. A prodigy with a bow, I am told. I would see her in action, if I could."
Oliver paused. "I'm afraid she has not come with us, General. We have left her behind to defend Solgrim. She is no soldier, but her talent is as true as you've heard. I would have been troubled to bring her to the battlefield again when she has no taste for it."
"A good woman, from the sounds of it," Blackwell said slowly. "A shame that I shall not meet her. How many men have you left behind in Solgrim? I have been impressed with the growth reports I have received on that village. You have done well with it."
"Three hundred, my Lord - and thank you," Oliver said.
Blackwell's steadiness disappeared for a moment, and his eyes narrowed. He glanced at Lombard, a question written on his face. "Oh? And then what men have you arrived with? I thought you promised me three hundred?"
"Indeed, I have brought three hundred," Oliver said. "The three hundred in Solgrim are composed of some new numbers. I've left a hundred men behind to see them trained, and brought a hundred cavalry to replace them."
"…That's an awful lot of men to be under the command of someone so young," Willem noted carefully. He seemed to be studying Lord Blackwell, expecting some sort of response. After all, it was the Lord who could either allow or deny the raising of such military forces. If he thought it to be a threat to him, he could have them all executed and still be well within the law.
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