A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 984 - The Battle Strategies of the Verna - Part 1

984: The Battle Strategies of the Verna – Part 1

984: The Battle Strategies of the Verna – Part 1

“DANCE, MEN!

SHOW THEM YOUR FURY!” Oliver shouted to them, even as he cut down man after man.

This here, in the midst of battle, was where men’s souls showed themselves exclusively.

He didn’t allow the opportunity to drift away, he shouted his want to the Yorick recruits, and with Command, he told them his will.

“YOU ARE PATRICK MEN!

SHOW THEM OUR MIGHT!”

Bit by bloody bit, they crafted a stage for themselves.

Man after man fell, in a cycle of stupendous momentum.

And then, it was the infantry’s turn to come.

As a flat line, three hundred men came streaming in, leaving the rest of the arrowhead, for the secondary one that Oliver had created alongside it.

Three commanders sat at their heads.

There was Jorah in the centre, calm, his sword like a sharp icicle, and his men like forces of chaotic nature as they carried out his judgement.

To his right, there was Lasha Blackthorn, more void than she was cold, but here and now her eyes were filled with the want for violence, and the Blackthorn men did their very best to keep up with her.

Then, to the left, there was Firyr.

As unpredictable as he was violent.

If the Colonels and other Captains were already dismayed by the Patrick men’s straying from the initial plan of combat, they were even more displayed to see their apparent lack of orderliness in the way they presented themselves.

The three hundred infantry hit at once, but they didn’t hit as a line.

They were three hundred unified men, enacting on a single will – but the fact of their individuality remained.

Three hundred men were hit with their own wants.

Some men jumped in the air, as if trying to leap over the remnants of the trampled spear wall.

Some bellowed, and preferred to run over their foes with their shoulder, and others still were more disciplined and uniform, like their typical soldier.

They were individualism personified, and they made a mess wherever they stood.

As the Patrick men caused havoc, General Karstly sniffed out a problem.

He was vaguely aware of what was going on behind him.

He’d heard the sound of Captain Patrick’s entry – it would have been impossible to ignore.

He viewed it as a fact, rather than something that he had an emotional response to.

He had set aside his emotions for use in later judgement, when it was seen whether or not their rogue attack would be for the benefit of the force as a whole.

“General!” One of his officers warned him, pointing up ahead, to a thin single line of enemies.

They were all that remained now.

They’d made it five ranks deep, and what they saw on the other side of these men was the clear and open space that they so desired.

Spears extended out towards them, with shields guarding the other side.

The Verna shields were so heavy that they preferred to rest them on the ground when they were holding position, and still, they were large enough to cover the majority of their body.

“Somethings off…” Karstly muttered.

He had expected as much.

He’d heard the foreigner from atop his large tower give some sort of order, but he didn’t have a lick of understanding for the Verna tongue.

He had no idea what they were aiming for.

“FORWARD!” He shouted, knowing that to allow his momentum to die here and now would be to allow his whole army to die.

They thrust past that wall too, with General Karstly pulling head again.

He grunted from the exertion of the action.

His speed was slowing, and he was having to use more physical might to achieve the same results that he wanted.

If he’d dwelled on that, he might have allowed the feeling of mounting dread in the back of his mind to climb ever higher.

Instead, the Verna had presented him with a different problem to dwell on, for now, there were no enemies in front of him at all.

He’d known to expect a further five ranks of defenders after this one, but now there was nothing for a great distance.

It was a large and perfect square of empty space, and then there was another line of defenders waiting for them at the other end.

“Ah…” Karstly said, grinding his teeth.

His eyes flashed to the left, where there was a meaty wall of men waiting for him.

They’d only created this spaced positioning right where the arrowhead had burst through.

To the left and right of the path that they’d cut, there was a dense mass of men, even denser than it had been on the initial way through.

Shields were all pointed out towards them, from all angles, and spears joined them as well.

It was clear what this space aimed to achieve.

It was a strategy to rid them of their momentum with the fewest lives possible.

It was a gauntlet that they were being forced to run down, harassed all the way by the spears to the left and their right.

Then, when they finally came to a halt, they would be consumed.

But what other choice did they have?

Karstly had to put his heels to his horse.

He had to keep pushing forward.

They didn’t have the numbers.

The only weapon they had was their momentum.

To lose that would be the death of them.

What other choice did they have..?

Karstly asked the question again, as he heard an increasing amount of noise from his left.

The Patrick men – a mere four hundred – had made it nearly as deep as the main arrowhead had.

They were fighting with a fury, contained outside of the momentum-limiting formation.

In them, Karstly saw another alternative.

Chapter 14 – The Battle Strategies of the Verna

“PATRRRICCCK!” General Karstly shouted.

Oliver turned his eyes in the midst of combat, acknowledging the General’s shout.

“TWO ARROW HEADS – RID US OF THIS WALL!” Karstly said.

It was all the words that the General could afford to offer.

There was no time to sit and talk or even shout in the midst of battle.

He could feel his men pushing behind him, both soldiers and wagons alike, all of them needing the chance to continue forward at a pace.

“Two arrowheads?” His officer said beside him.

“Who will you send to reinforce them?”

“No one,” Karstly replied, wearing a malicious grin that he only reserved for those closest to them.

“The Patricks chose this path themselves, let us see if they’re fit to walk it.”

“Two arrowheads?” Verdant said, repeating the same question that the officer had asked.

He didn’t wear a frown like the other man, though, he wore a smile.

“It seems we’ve put a target around our necks, my Lord.”

There was barely enough breathing room for him to make such a comment.

The General had trusted them to decipher his intentions in asking the Patricks to do what they had, and Oliver was very much intending to take advantage of it.