A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 800: The Pieces of Battle - Part 12

It seemed to only be the Syndran that was able to look at the fort – for that was indeed what it appeared to be, far more than an encampment – and not feel a mounting dread. Just the sight of it was enough to overwhelm, and freeze them in place.

They'd only just departed from the trees, and without a word of command, they found themselves coming to a stop again as they looked up at the fortifications.

"This is going to be difficult," Oliver noted dryly. They weren't the kind of simple stakes and trenches that Lombard had put down when he'd visited Solgrim – this was more a true wall of high logs, twice the size of a man, with both the stakes and the trenches around it.

They'd spoken of breaking through the enemy line, imagining a field battle, and now all those plans – meagre though they were – quickly went out of the window. This was not so much a land battle as a siege. Seeing that wooden fort, it was quite obvious why they'd snubbed the castle in favour of it.

"What now?" Nila asked. "We've seen it. Do you want to go further?"

"We'd better," Oliver said. It was all he could think to do. It was obvious how one could go about defeating something as well defended as that, but they had to try something. It was an even greater obstacle than Fort Dollem had been, what with the steep hill that it sat on, giving the archers a lively view of their surroundings.

Grim though the mood had quickly taken a turn for, they pitched forward nonetheless. The bows on their backs felt distinctly useless. The range of the enemy archers would always exceed their own, unless they were archers wielding bows of Oliver and Verdant's sort.

They laced their way up the hillside, just as darkness began to descend. Here, again, they were made to feel the full magnitude of the problem that faced them. Even after a good five minutes of walking up the hillside, they were still well out of the fort's range. It was such an overwhelming disadvantage to be at that Oliver found himself biting his lip.

Any ideas he had building were quickly wiped away. Could strategy overcome a problem like this? A better question was could Oliver's meagre strategy overcome it? He who often needed to resort to novel ideas, for lack of the fundamentals. Here, novel ideas held no purchase.

It was hard to say when the watchmen on the walls saw their approach. They might have seen them the moment that they left the forest, but they give no indication of it. It was not until they stepped well within the archers' range did the men make evident their hubris. A flight of arrows came crashing down upon them.

"Arrows!" Nila said, her sharp eyes catching them well in advance, despite the darkness. If not for that warning, they likely would have been run straight through.

The arrows had been launched with the anticipation of their continuous forward movement. Merely by pitching themselves off in the other direction at as much speed as they could muster did they manage to dodge them. The arrows sunk deep into the snow in front of them, marking a black line that seemed like a warning.

"So much for sneaking up on them," Oliver said, though he truly hadn't expected much when he'd announced the plan to sneak within range and try for something. It'd been a shot in the dark – a hope at securing some sort of foothold.

Still, that was not to say that the mission had been without its uses. At least now they knew just how careful they'd need to be in their approach. Breaking through a line wasn't an option. Nor was even getting closer. They needed something else.

"I suppose that's it," Firyr said, disappointed. "Are we heading back, then? I'm fricken' cold."

"You," Karesh said, taking a step towards the man. "You'd better start showing more respect, or it'll be my sword that gets you before the enemy."

"Huh? Are you threatening an ally, youngling? Does your Master really want you cutting down his lacking men?" Firyr said, smiling at the empty threat. "Why don't you take a swing, and see what happens. I wonder what's faster? My spear, or your sword?"

"Karesh, enough. Don't cause more problems," Jorah said, pulling his arm back.

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"Are we falling to pieces already?" Nila murmured. She was near enough to Oliver that only he could hear.

"Can you pick one of them off, at this range?" Oliver asked.

She looked at him with a frown. "This distance, Beam… I can't get close, can I? Besides, what's the point, there's still so many of them."

"Please," Oliver said. "I know you came here when you didn't have to, and I know it seems pointless, but will you do it regardless?"

She still looked unhappy. "Are you not going to ask her?" She nodded at Blackthorn. "She's been watching you the whole way here, hoping you'll ask for something. Is she not going to be a bit put out by this? I'm peasant enough already – if I get on the bad side of these nobles, it's not going to go well for me."

"She's not that petty," Oliver assured her. "She's just eager. Will you see it done, regardless?"

"You know you'll have to treat me for this, right?" Nila said. "I didn't come here for free."

"I thought you came to keep me alive?" Oliver said, smiling wryly.

"There's that…" Nila admitted, turning her face away. "Hah, fine. Just one of them? I suppose I can. I'm going to need the help of you, and that nobleman with those pale eyes."

"Verdant," Oliver said, motioning with his head for the priest to come closer.

"My Lord?"

"Nila's got an ask for us," Oliver said.

"Apologies, Ser," Nila said, dipping her head, the best display of respect that she could muster. Oliver felt that she didn't have to – she was here for him, after all. But it pleased him to see her at least try to keep the peace. "I shouldn't be giving orders, but…"