A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 833: The Allied Move - Part 6

"I’m not," Nila replied. "I don’t know anything about strategy. All I can do is hit people with my bow. Besides, I don’t want to spend ages wrapping up all my arrows so they won’t kill anyone."

"You can lead well enough. You know when someone is doing something stupid, even if you don’t know strategy. What do you say, fancy being a Sergeant?"

"Nope. No way," she said, shaking her head. "I’m here to help you. I’m not doing any more than that. I hate fighting."

"Good. You’ll be helping me a good deal if you even the odds for them," Oliver replied. "You’ll find your place in the army well. You know the strength of a bow. With your accuracy, you don’t need to be sending arrows from one side of the battlefield to another. You can be on the move, picking your shots."

"…" Nila pulled a face, making it quite clear how she felt about it.

"Please," Oliver said, trying his best smile.

"…Fine," Nila said eventually, though she looked none too happy about it, and she practically stomped her way to Tjorn to ask for some padded wraps for her arrows.

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Soon enough, a second battle was underway. Nila meekly joined the band opposite Verdant’s, as Judas proclaimed her coming with delight, whilst many of the slaves looked puzzled by the celebration. A single girl wasn’t enough to turn the tides of the last battle, after all. If anything, it seemed likely that they would be bested even more quickly.

"Don’t mind me," Nila said, waving their gazes away with an almost huffy expression. "I’m just here to do what is asked of me."

"Lady Felder, is it?" Jorah said politely, dipping his head to her. The youth’s introduction was far more mannerly than Judas’ slap on her shoulder. "I understand that it is a training battle, but my Lord seems to have great expectations of us. Would you be willing to listen to what I have to say?"

Nila raised an eyebrow at him, but eventually relented with a shrug. "I said I’d do the same. As long as your suggestion isn’t stupid, I’ll listen to it."

"They certainly seem to be in the heat of discussion," Northman noted to Verdant, as they watched a small group form around Nila, urgently whispering some sort of plan. "Does that bother you, Lord Idris? Should we change our formation?"

"For the purposes of my Lord’s exercise, we need not change yet," Verdant said. "Our goal is to condition the men, and hone our blades. Reacting to the unexpected will be far more profitable in that regard."

So Verdant said, but it didn’t seem inclined to put his allies at ease. They’d narrowly won the last fight, and the soldiers knew only too well what it felt like to lose to the Patrick men. They weren’t keen to do it again any time soon.

But by now, any chance for preparations was soon over. Mindful of the time, Oliver gave a quick glance down to the barricades below, to ensure that all was in order. It seemed just as quiet as it had been when he glanced minutes before. Satisfied, Oliver gave the command, and the battle began.

Once again, the battle seemed to take the same route. Firyr and Judas and their men had made a skill out of their flank-side attacks. They barrelled forward with their men sprinting after them, seeming to be just as boisterous as before. They seemed so, and yet, Oliver got the sense that they were holding back by the slightest of fractions – perhaps to allow themselves more room to move.

Once more the centre was thinned, and once more Jorah took his men towards it. Everything was playing out the exact same way it had before. Verdant’s side took the same decisions, in response to the same problems that were cast their way. After all, those solutions had brought them victory last time.

Blackthorn barrelled towards the centre, looking positively angry. Her brows had the slightest of furrows. To any that didn’t know her, they would have thought the emotion to be slight, but Blackthorn never showed the slightest hint of anything, not until her emotions were boiling over. Oliver almost felt sorry for her foes – Karesh and Kaya – as she charged towards them.

He wondered what had gotten her so riled up.

Karesh stiffened at her approach. He knew very well how easily he’d fallen before. Even the normally reckless fighter was inclined to stick closer to Kaya and Jorah, as they attempted to survive whatever the fearsome Lady was to deliver their way.

But once more, even with their tactics solidified and tighter, they simply couldn’t defend against Blackthorn’s blade. For all her slightness, she hit like a wrecking ball. She picked out Karesh again, knowing him to be slower, and within an instant, a feint from her seized the initiative. Karesh raised his guard too high, giving Blackthorn all the opening she needed.

Her blade struck out like a serpent towards his gut.

"Guh!"

This time, the noise didn’t come from Karesh, but Blackthorn herself. Her eyes widened from the pain, and she clutched at her stomach. She felt as though she’d been hit by an iron fist. The pain was unbearable.

"Crap! Are you alright?" Nila said, seeing how pained she’d left Blackthorn. Her arrow – even padded as it was – would no doubt have left a significant bruise on the girl’s stomach.

Blackthorn’s eyes flashed in annoyance as she realized what had happened. She hurried to stand up, fighting past the pain, though it was quite clear that she was favouring one leg.

"Blackthorn," Oliver’s voice rang out, cutting through the din of combat. "You’ve been defeated. Leave it."

His words were for her benefit. He didn’t want his men to fight past their pain thresholds. They’d have plenty of time to do that in a proper battle. Blackthorn was clearly having trouble standing, so he made the call, and he thought she’d have no complaints. After all, had this been a real fight, a shot to her stomach like that would have put her out for good.