A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 823: The Masked General’s Response - Part 3

Of course, they didn't stop at simply oil. Torches were brandished – where had they even come from? – and were tossed in an instant. Oliver's men were just beginning to shout their horror, but the torches were merciless. In an instant, three of their barricades were inflamed.

Visit freёnovelkiss.com for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience.

"Those bastards!" Karesh said hotly, stamping his foot.

The Commander most certainly didn't hear Karesh's comment, for without a shred of emotion on his face, he turned his horse around, and trotted straight back into the walls of the fort. His men went after him.

"And he runs straight away! What a coward!"

"Damn it all. We worked hard on those, and then they can get rid of them so quickly?" Northman murmured. "I suppose it isn't going to be so easy."

"Whatever are you gentlemen talking about?" Verdant said, frowning, his voice cutting through the din of noise and angry muttering. "Are we looking at the same battlefield? Do your eyes deceive you?"

"How could they, Lord Idris?" Northman said. "The fire lights up what we've lost, as plain as day."

"Ah, so your eyes do deceive you then," Verdant said. "Have you not forgotten that five other barricades still remain? Have you forgotten how little effort it took for us to put up eight yesterday? Do you not see that, in the face of a ladder of eight barricades, the enemy was only able to bite back and attack three? Our advantage is obvious."

Now they could understand the smile that Oliver wore. He didn't begrudge the loss of those barricades. They were designed to be disposable, after all, and they still had Tjorn making many more, with their pile not yet at all depleted. The General had made his move, and this was the best he'd come up with?

Oliver had been awaiting with anxious anticipation, sure that he'd missed something, but this was all the response that his actions had been given. Verdant was right, they were still very much ahead.

"That will do then, I suppose. If they are content to claim back a mere three, then we will ignore them. Northman, begin your patrol for the day. When you're down, order those guardsmen forward to the lower barricades. Have them hold their ground if the enemy appears, but only for a single volley, and then have them retreat.

Leave them with the orders that they are to re-establish those barricades when the fires die out," Oliver said.

"R-right," Northman said. "I suppose… I suppose we could just do that." He nodded to himself, as though processing what was happening. Oliver smiled. It was a peculiar psychological blindspot that many had. They saw a single step back as defeat, without acknowledging all the process that they'd already gained.

"What will your plans be for the rest of the day, my Lord?" Verdant asked. "It does seem to me that you're establishing quite the foothold. Are you intending to force something from it?"

"For now, we will continue to provoke the General. He has yet to show much of his hand. Besides, there are other sorts of work to be done. Blackthorn, Jorah, Kaya, Karesh – this afternoon I will have need of the four of you," Oliver said. He was eyeing the corner of the clearing where the mock battles were still going on. Yet again, the slaves were being beaten back, as they had been for a while now.

They seemed to be just about to lose their confidence and their motivation. It was time to step in there.

"Yes, Captain," Blackthorn said with a small salute. Oliver thought that the action lacked heart, but it was hard to tell with that woman. She was so quiet in all things other than the battlefield.

"Yes, Captain," Jorah said, echoed by Karesh and Kaya.

"What of I, my Lord?" Verdant asked.

"Keep an eye on the battlefield situation. You are aware of what I am aiming for, yes?" Oliver said.

"I am."

"Then make the required responses in my stead, should it prove necessary. If the Macalisters begin to move outside of my framework, then alert me, and we will proceed along a different line," Oliver said.

Verdant nodded deeply. The others watched the exchange. They seemed to realize the significance. Oliver, without thinking, had confidently handed over the reins of command to the Idris man, and Verdant had responded unflinchingly, despite the fact that he hadn't been designated with an official rank within the framework of their army.

"What about me?" Nila asked.

"You, be available for Verdant and I as we need you. But otherwise, rest. You've proven far too useful lately for us to risk you to overwork," Oliver said.

"…Fine, I suppose," Nila said, a hint of bashfulness in the reply. Oliver didn't notice. He'd already turned on his heel, and begun marching to the next port of call.

Indeed, he was building his ladder to assault the walls of the Macalister Fort, but what worth did that have, if he did not have with him the strength to take it? As his army was, it was still far from complete. He couldn't confidently entrust it with a difficult fight.

He arrived just in time to see Firyr throw his spear down in frustration. Another crushing defeat, it seemed. It had been closer the day before, but now the morale of the slaves was thoroughly ruined. They'd been getting beat so often that it seemed almost routine.

That wasn't to say that they were as bad as they had been on the first day – they at least had some sort of willpower in them now, but it was far from enough.

Judas was equally frustrated. He'd been in the thick of it, training with the rest of them almost tirelessly. He worked at the same pace that the slaves were being worked at, and yet he didn't seem to understand why they weren't making any forward ground.

"Take twenty minutes," Oliver said, shouting over to Cormrant rant. The Vice-Commander gave a small salute in acknowledgement and proceeded to begin dismissing his men. The slaves stood where they were, knowing the words were not meant for them.