A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Those eyes, Commander Blackthorn," Oliver said. "I do not like them. "Is that any way to look at your fellow man that you've fought alongside? Do your soldiers not know what army they inhabit?"

Someone else might have been stung by Oliver's forceful approach, but Lasha seemed to understand the position that she had to play. She didn't allow a trace of emotion to breach her mask. She turned on her heel, and stared down the same men that Oliver had been looking upon. The Blackthorn soldiers all stiffened, straightening up, as if trying to appear taller than they were.

"Do you look down on our comrades?" Lasha asked, her voice quiet. She didn't enjoy speaking at the best of times, but it was worse now, when she could feel thousands of eyes directed towards her, with many of them being Blackthorn eyes – the same eyes that had watched her growing up.

Gordry had his arms folded, viewing the scene with undisguised aggression – something that many of the Blackthorn men mirrored. No doubt, they didn't exactly appreciate seeing their mistress spoken to as such.

She was looking at a single Sergeant-Major in particular as she asked that question. The man seemed to take it as that question being directed at her, and he gave a firm response. "No, Commander!" He said, his eyes pointed straight ahead, his gaze unwavering.

"They have achieved more than you today," Oliver said, pointing at Firyr's lot, stained in their blood, and their mismatched armour, with the Patrick surcoat over the top. "I have forgiven that fact, for you are newcomers. You do not know the Patrick ways. You can not perform as the Patricks are expected to."

The men that had made such an effort to appear proper earlier now bristled. They'd been in the thick of the fighting in the battle with General Khan. They knew that to be a truth. That the slaves and peasants would be given praise above them most certainly was not something that they could easily stomach.

It certainly didn't help that those same two hundred men were tittering their laughter, or otherwise grinning as they saw the newcomers scolded.

"You're Blackthorn men," Oliver continued. "I'd expect more. I won't hear any excuse of tiredness. General Khastly has given you an opportunity to demonstrate your might, and you will use it."

"Yes, Captain," Lasha saluted on their behalf, and the men were forced to go along with it, saluting as well.

"Commander Firyr," Oliver said. "You fought well against Khan. You secured a Colonel nearly by yourself. This honour that Khastly has given us will be partly your honour. You and your hundred men will form our centre. We will build the attack around you."

"Yes, Captain!" Firyr said, grinning wildly. He already knew this was coming, but to be given the praise in front of a crowd made him grin all the same.

"Jorah, your men performed admirably as well. I will ask that you watch carefully the developments of Firyr and his men, and take advantage of the chances that they create," Oliver said.

"Yes, Captain," Jorah said, giving a salute that was in no way inferior to that of the Blackthorn's.

"Yorick," Oliver said. "You too are new, like the Blackthorns. It would be a stretch to say that you performed as is expected of Patrick men. But I will not condemn you for it. You did not know what it meant to be a Patrick man truly until yesterday. It will take time for your conditioning to improve so that you can match us.

Nevertheless, I expect you to hold your ground."

"Yes, Captain," Yorick said. He didn't seem too chastised by the remark, given that they'd already had this conversation before.

"Very good," Oliver said. "I expect that you have already guessed it, but we will be fighting alongside comrades in the form of Lombard's men. They have granted us a favour already. If the opportunity presents itself, we will do the same for them. I expect you to fight as hard for the Lombard soldiers as you would for comrades of your own."

"""YES, CAPTAIN!""" Came the acknowledgement. Not even the Blackthorn men could possibly hold a grudge against Lombard's lot, given all that Lombard had put them through in order to come to their assistance.

"Thank the General for the opportunity," Oliver said.

"""THANK YOU, GENERAL!""" The men said. It was strange to see the likes of Firyr's men so unified even with their shout.

"Well, well," Karstly said to Samuel. "I suppose young Patrick knows how to create a scene. I wonder how many men would thank me for putting them in the vanguard, given the state that they're already in?"

"A handful," Samuel replied. "And all of them are as insane as the last. I would point out though, Karstly, it would seem you've angered our good friend Colonel Gordry."

"Oh, have I?" Karstly said, feigning regret. "Now that's something that we shall have to remedy. I would love for all our soldiers to be fighting amidst a sea of calm, after all."

"Just say you don't care, my Lord, and be done with it," Samuel said, pulling a face. "The sarcasm is unbecoming."

With Oliver at the front, the Patrick men began to march with their shields tight to their shoulders, as if to deflect the glares of the men that they passed.

Given the distance that Lasha's Blackthorns had been forced to close, it was they too that received the glares from their comrades. A matter that was no doubt doubly uncomfortable for them. Forced in so close, those that gazed upon them seemed to refuse to admit them as being apart from the Patrick army.

"Give me something to work with, Captain Patrick," General Khastly called as the men passed him. Oliver gave a small salute in response. His attention was already on the mountain in front of him, and all the five thousand men posted there.

With their four hundred men separate from the Karstly army, it was almost possible to imagine that the other thousands weren't there at all. That it was merely Oliver Patrick, and the army that he'd so carefully cultivated, facing off against five thousand.