A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 812: Victory’s Skeletons - Part 6

Within moments, the camp was still, and Oliver had their complete attention. Northman had stopped as well. He'd just been about to set off. "You can go, Northman. This is for the remaining men."

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The man nodded, and urged his horse out of camp, bringing his men with him. Another mark of a good soldier was recognizing when he was in the way, just as much as when he was needed. Northman had that skill down to a fine art.

With the Commander gone, Oliver spoke again. "There is still work to be done on the encampment. The trees will be processed, and over the next few days, we shall add stakes to our perimeter. A team of twenty will be assigned to that task. For now, twenty of you Skullic men will be taking on that duty.

As for the rest of you, there's another task that I would ask your help with." He turned his attention to the gathering of slaves, and the attention of the rest of the camp turned with him.

"There's some good fighting men amongst them, believe it or not," Oliver said. "Crude though they might have been, when they were given a chance to let loose, they performed. That being said, the rest of them are far from ready. To sharpen them, I would have you Skullic boys mock battle against them. Pad your blades and rid the chance of serious injury, but otherwise, don't hold back."

Whatever they might have expected him to say when he called together the camp's attention, the staging of a mock battle was certainly not it. The pronouncement came with a good few frowns. More from the Skullic men than from the burly slaves, for most of them, didn't understand anything about the military ways. Oliver guessed that if not for yesterday's victory, they might even have refused to do it.

With it, though, Oliver had created some breathing room for himself. He was allowed to be a little odd.

"What are you standing around for?" Verdant barked. "You heard the Captain! Hurry to it! Wrap your weapons and form up for battle! Who will command both sides, my Lord?"

"Cormrant, you've already been told your position. Judas, I want you and Nila to do what you can with the rest of them," Oliver said.

"What? Why not me?" Firyr said. "I thought I proved my worth yesterday, didn't I? I hit the charge head-on."

"And now you've proved your stupidity as well," Verdant said. "Silence soldier – follow your orders."

Firyr frowned, a dark look passing over his face. He'd been thrown into slavery for killing an officer very much like Verdant, though Oliver didn't think that now was the time to mention that.

"When I see how you fight as a group, positions will be reevaluated," Oliver said.

"Move now, come on!" Verdant shouted. By now Cormrant was joining in, urging his men into position. At the very least, the man had his pride. He would not be outdone in discipline by some group of ex-slaves.

It was not long before Skullic's men were ready, a good fifty of them, their weapons wrapped, standing in five ranks of ten. Cormrant stood at the back, waiting, as his position as Commander dictated. It took Judas and Nila a while longer to get the slaves into position, enough that Firyr angrily started giving orders as well, jabbing them with his padded spear, quickening them up.

Oliver kept an extra eye out for those men who had been blooded yesterday. They weren't hard to find. Out of the whole pack of slaves, they were some of the few with a bit of life left in their eyes.

"Do you have need of us, my Lord?" Jorah asked. He'd been standing patiently waiting. By now, Blackthorn had joined them as well.

"Watch, and tell me what you think," Oliver replied. "You as well, Blackthorn. You're not sick, are you?"

Blackthorn shook her head, but otherwise said nothing.

"Begin!" Oliver said, when the groups were finally facing off against each other. He noticed that those who had been tasked with improving their defences had ceased their work to watch. They thought they were being sneaky about it, but Oliver didn't chastise them. In truth, he didn't expect much from the efforts to improve their defences. It was merely a measure for morale.

"Forward!" Judas said. He was full of energy. He had a sword wrapped in a pad. If he'd wielded his usual mace, then he would have done a considerable amount of damage, wrapped or not. He seemed to want to make up for his lack of presence in yesterday's battle.

The slaves didn't exactly give him an enthusiastic response, but they'd obey nonetheless. Judas sprinted forward, and Firyr went with him, though he seemed to have his own ideas about where they'd be heading. Judas ran fearlessly into the spear wall, knowing that the weapons couldn't hope to harm him. He swatted the spear points out the way with a great swing, and tried to get in closer.

It was a valiant effort, but with no one eager to follow up behind him, it went to waste.

Firyr ducked in himself, closing the distance so that he could use his short Syndran spear. He wielded the weapon with both one hand and with two, depending on what range he wanted. The weapon danced in his grip, far more complex in his manoeuvring than one would expect from a typical Stormfront spearman.

He managed to ram the point of his spear into a man's chest, winding him and knocking him off his feet.

A few men followed behind Firyr, trying to build something from what he'd gained, but there was a distinct lack of teamwork. Judas and Firyr were soon set upon by multiple spear points and jabbed back, without anything coming of the holes that they'd created.

"Forward," Cormrant called to his men calmly. The Skullic men began to march forward, slow and steady, their spear points extended. The charge of Oliver's men had been stopped already, and now the momentum was reversed. They couldn't hold their ground, for they didn't know how to overcome the range of the spears, and they didn't have enough aggression to bridge that gap.