A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

There was a change that did not need to be announced. If it was ever to be debated whether a man held a presence, that debate would have been ended then, if any manner of man had stood on that battlefield.

From the soldiers in their chariots doing war just a distance away, to the Stormfront men under General Rainheart, and the Verna army under Commandant Torn to the very other end of the plains, all those battlefields away, where the greatest Generals that both sides had to offer were doing their battling.

They could feel the change and the void that came with the loss of a man of such magnitude and they were all forced to look up.

"…Who snuck ahead of us?" Karstly tutted, vague annoyance in his voice.

General Blackwell's response was that of narrowed eyes, as he tried to breach the problem of distance through sheer effort, to ascertain the truth of the matter himself.

For General Khan, however, it was an instantaneous decision that came. The very last throw of a very weighty dice.

All at once, nearly a hundred thousand men were set to charging. The greatest defensive General that the Verna had to offer was put firmly on the attack. He knew that General Zilan had fallen, and he knew it without question. He could not spare a moment of hesitation in the void that came with his death.

He knew that a loss brought it potential. Different forces would fight to fill that gap. The longer he left it, the more advantageous it would be for the Stormfront forces. Only when the dust settled, could the advantage be said to firmly be on their side.

So it was, all the men that they'd set to attacking the walls were halted. All those men that operated their siege weapons were halted too. The great square formation was shifted away from the camps, in a decision as reckless as it was necessary. It put at great risk all the civilians that they had brought with them, but it was a necessary risk nonetheless.

Karstly had been doing war near those camps, and Blackwell had been doing his war near the castle itself. They settled back into that pattern, after the initial upset earlier, with Karstly throwing their strategy out of the window for the sake of upsetting their foe.

If Khan were to attack, he would attack in one direction. If he truly wanted victory, he would throw all his pieces onto a single obstacle, and pray that they crush them. Both Karstly and Blackwell were worthy of such considerations in their competence, but there was only one man amongst them whose death would mean total victory.

'Even if we have lost a General, it means nothing, if we slay your Commanding General,' Khan thought to himself.

He was climbing down that tower of his, dedicating himself entirely to the attack. Every piece needed to be played, and that included himself. All near hundred thousand of those men aimed themselves towards General Blackwell and his five thousand.

From chariots, to spearmen, to archers, to sword infantry, to the heavy shieldwielders that the Verna had found so effective, to a few hundred of the more traditional cavalry, of almost an identical Stormfront style. They were all pieces with their different strengths, and all of them wanted to see the death of General Blackwell.

Against a hoard of that many, General Khan had to respect the look on General Blackwell's face. No – more than that, he had to fear it. What man, when faced with such a wave of violence, would wear the smile that he now wore?

Through their battling, General Khan had come to understand Blackwell as a rather serious man on the battlefield. He showed his age, and his wisdom. And only at times did he show the teeth of something lurking beneath the surface. That uncanny instinct he had, that he wove in with his strategy, and that made him such a hard opponent to face.

Now that beast was firmly on the surface. He let it loose. His glaive was in the air, and to his men, he gave a bellow. They weren't words, it was more a howl than anything else. A declaration of war.

When those Verna men came charging for him, looking for his head, General Blackwell raised up his weapon, and he charged back at them in turn. His men fell into an arrowhead behind him, and just like General Khan had, he committed all the pieces that he had to the board.

He knew that the only way to climb over the massive wall that was an army of a hundred thousand was to pierce straight through it, and so he did.

At the rear of the Verna army, Karstly was left snubbed. Only General Phalem remained in order to entertain him.

The smile that Karstly wore was very much unlike Blackwell's. This was an angry smile. The want of a man that had striven for years to prove his worth of the field of battle. Now that he was finally here, and he'd had his opportunity, and he'd ended up being overlooked.

"A dullard like Phalem – you dare to put him against the likes of me?" Karstly said. He knew that his words dripped with arrogance, but he cared not. There was no use pretending he was not who he was anymore.

He well understood the gambit that Khan had played. The war would be decided here and now. If Blackwell fell, it didn't matter what gains they managed to seize, there would be no one of the Great General's standing to see their army unified together.

He needed aid. And the only form of aid Karstly knew how to truly administer was through the form of pressure. General Khan had turned his back on him, and left him to the likes of Phalem, believing that in the short window of opening, there would be little for Karstly to do.

As General Blackwell charged, Karstly gave the angry order to charge with him, daring to challenge General Khan's predictions, he rode with his five thousand men straight towards General Phalem and his encirclement of bodyguards, and he looked to see the Battleboard entirely upset.