A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The generosity of his offer was made evident by the cheers of the men. There were only two thousand of Karstly's men present, with the others still guarding the Lonely Mountain, but from the noise of them, an observer would have thought there to be five times that number.

"For General Rainheart's men, who, with their brave charge, secured us another few important rungs on the ladder that led to our victory, you are awarded the sum of three months' extra pay," General Blackwell said.

The cheers came, but there was a degree of disappointment in them now, as they looked enviously at General Karstly's troops, and compared the rewards that they had received compared to what they had been given.

"For my own troops, who served me and General Karstly in the latter stages of the battle, I give you the same sum of three months' extra pay," General Blackwell said. "You fought where the fighting was thickest, and against a foe of the most dangerous sort. Your bravery is owed such a reward."

Those men seemed pleased enough with that. Perhaps they had supposed that their own achievements would not be weighed as highly as Rainheart's had, given that he had managed to decisively snatch victory on his own battlefield by his lonesome, for their cheers were almost as excited as those of Karstly's men.

"For General Broadstone and his soldiers, the Gods did not see it fit to give you an opportunity to appropriately demonstrate your valour. Nevertheless, you held your castle well, under the command of your General, and it was because of your continued prevailing that we were given another outpost to harbour our troops and our supplies in when my own castle fell.

You are awarded the sum of two months' extra pay."

Oliver's eyebrow twitched. He thought that to be a generous reward, when compared to the previous ones. He'd expected, at most, for Broadstone's men to be awarded a single month, given the quietness of their battlefield. Perhaps the men themselves had expected the same, for their cheers were genuine ones.

"Now we move to the valour of the individual," Blackwell said. "On the recommendations of your Captains, I have a list of men who are in need of the honour of a promotion to Sergeant. The harshness of the fighting has taken many of our officers. We put the hopes for the future of the army within you new bloods.

If the footsoldier is the meat of the army, then the Sergeants are the first glimpses of bone. Know the significance of your role."

He began to unwind a scroll long enough that it trailed from his chest all the way down to the bottoms of his legs. One might have thought to hear a groan go out across the army, seeing such a long list, and knowing that a good while of announcements would surely await them.

But that groan would have only been carried by those that were a higher rank than Sergeants themselves, and with so few to give it voice, it was not heard. The unranked foot soldiers were all eagerly rapt, waiting for their names to be read.

'There's belief in all their faces,' Oliver noted, as he looked around. Even if a man thought it to be an impossibility, he could not dare hope. The pay rise that came with rising up to the rank of Sergeant was certainly not one to be taken lightly by any of the Serving Class men.

It was the difference between a monthly wage that barely made ends meet, and one that could have been classed as comfortable.

Each time a man's name was read out, he positively beamed. His chest was puffed out in pride, and he walked all the way up to General Blackwell himself, in front of all those thousands of men. General Blackwell took the time to shake each of their hands. His attention was focused entirely on them for the few short moments that they were there.

He gave them the golden tag that would indicate their rank once it was sown into the breast of their uniform, and then he offered each of them a few words of encouragement.

Looking upon it, Oliver could not deny that such an image was that of a good General. And yet it was a General that he had his own doubts with, after seeing the methods that he had employed to further his victory. The two notions didn't knit together neatly in his mind, and he found himself increasingly troubled by that fact.

A handful of Patrick men were called up, after Oliver had put their names forth. When one of them belonged to Firyr, the Commander was unable to help his loud words of encouragement.

When the list of Sergeants was finally read, General Blackwell began on a considerably shorter list that promoted men to Commanders.

"The position of Commander is not one easily given," Blackwell told them. "For it to be given, with no new men brought to the army, a man must be replaced. These Commanders that I have named take the place of dead men – men who fought and died honourably for our cause. They are given a weighty mantle to carry.

Their position comes with the responsibility to bear the expectations of those that had held their rank before them. To honour their memory with performances that the dead would not scorn."

There were no such new Commanders to be had in the Patrick army. Oliver supposed he had to be grateful for that. He saw the sombre looks on the faces of other men, from other forces, as they went to receive that position. The joy that the new Sergeants had shown seemed a distant memory in comparison. These were men with eyes still recalling the faces of dead men.

When it came time to name new Captains, Oliver's own mood began to grow sombre. He knew exactly which dead men would be in need of replacement there – for he had been responsible for two of them.