A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 811: Victory’s Skeletons - Part 5

"Preparations are proceeding smoothly," Northman said. "Do you truly believe that they'll attack?"

"Not one bit," Oliver replied, without missing a beat. "This will do more for our own peace of mind than theirs. Can all of your men ride, Northman?"

"They can," Northman said. "They've all been trained to Academy level, even if it was not the Academy in particular that they attended. They'll ride a horse, but they might not do it so well."

"Then have thirty of your men picked out," Oliver said. "Get thirty of those horses saddled and ready, and then I want you to lead them on a scouting trip."

Northman's eyes shone with excitement. It was an oddly childish emotion to see from a forty-something-year-old Commander. Evidently, he didn't get many opportunities to ride. "What will our objective be? Ride close to the walls and see if we can get them to waste some arrows?"

Oliver shook his head. "No. Just ride them around the bottom of the hill."

"…Just ride them around the bottom of the hill? To what purpose?" Northman asked.

"The same purpose that a cavalry unit has on the battle board when it is moved a single tile forward, with no foe in sight," Oliver replied. "If you need a purpose, tell your men you're looking for weaknesses in the enemy fortifications. Have them report back what they find, and make a note of anything interesting."

"Is that it?" Northman said. "It seems like it'll make for an awfully brief run."

"Loop around three times," Oliver said. "Change your speed as you do it. Don't wear the horses out – I'll want them again come evening."

"A-alright," Northman stammered. He was so confused that even his speech wasn't keeping up with him. "I'll see it done then, Captain."

The Commander was just as good as a subordinate as he was a leader. When Oliver told him to do something, he was amongst the few that did it without complaint. He didn't see it as any sort of slight for him to be leading a scouting party, in the position that he was. He seemed amiable enough that others had to take offence on his behalf. On this occasion, it was Cormrant.

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Even with his eye to the Commander, he'd noticed that Northman was busy preparing a group of men.

"What words did you share with the Commander, Captain?" Cormrant asked.

"Am I obliged to answer?" Oliver said, not turning to speak to the man. He'd been standing with his arms folded, watching the swimming of life through camp – he didn't budge an itch at Cormrant's arrival.

"…You're not, I expect," Cormrant said. "I am not trying to be difficult, though, Ser. It was mere curiosity."

"Then know he's gone scouting," Oliver said.

"Scouting? In his position? Is that not a misuse of such a capable man?" Cormrant asked.

"I think not. Yesterday's event was a great lesson to me by our enemy General. It will require a man of Northman's station to ensure that his men do not get over-excited with what I've asked them to do," Oliver said.

"…I could have done it in his place," Cormrant said.

"Oh, but I have another use for you, Cormrant," Oliver said, finally turning to him. The Vice-Commander flinched when he caught sight of Oliver's terribly devious look, with golden flecks swirling about in his eyes. Ingolsol, as ever, had his own ideas, and this time he happened to be in agreement with Claudia.

"They do need to grow," Claudia was saying. "It would be for their own benefit, if it was not taken too far."

"Beat them bloody, I say!" Ingolsol cackled. "Imagine going to battle, whilst you're in battle? What chaos! What delight!"

Oliver ignored them both. "Take my men, would you? Brutes that they are, they're undisciplined. They need a firm hand. Do you have training spears, or the like..?"

"I do not know where this is going, but we usually pad the enemy of the spear for training," Cormrant said.

"Then, have your spears padded, if you would. Do you suppose that your men – if numbers were equal – could beat mine?" Oliver asked.

Cormrant frowned. "Captain, I do not mean to be rude – Northman has warned me not to be – but these men that you've brought are no better than savages. They're slaves, aren't they? They reek of servitude. The lash of the whip is still clear on their back. Half of them handle their weapons like they've never seen them.

It goes without saying that my men would trounce them."

"Good," Oliver said, "then do so. Find Jorah and Judas, and have them command my men. You command fifty of yours."

"…And then what? You want me to drill them?" Cormrant asked. "It would be a waste of time. They can't learn five years worth of training in a day, or three."

"No, batter them," Oliver replied.

"…Pardon, Ser?"

"You heard me. Crush them. Don't hold back. You can give them a few bruises, or the like, as long as you don't completely make them useless, it's fair game," Oliver said.

"Are you serious? You want me to do a mock battle with them? Here, in the middle of enemy territory?" Cormrant said.

"That's exactly right," Oliver told him. He was already striding away by now, and preparing to raise his voice to address the rest of the camp. Most of the main work was done now, so clusters of soldiers were just beginning to gather around in an attempt to relax, as they struggled to find anything else to do. "All right, soldiers, your attention, if you would."

He clapped his hands together to lend his voice more volume, for he was unwilling to properly shout. It seemed that such an effort wasn't needed. The second he walked to the centre of the encampment, eyes were following him. He rarely strode with such purpose, so it likely made sense, especially given the events of yesterday.

As soon as they heard Oliver, the Sergeants kicked into gear, rushing to bring the men to attention. Jorah came trotting over with Karesh and Kaya at his heels, standing guard behind Oliver on the off chance that he might be needed. Verdant emerged as well, taking his position on the other side, whilst Nila and Judas hurried to get the slave men ready.