A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"You're up, Cormrant," Northman had said upon their return, to which Cormrant had given a crisp salute. "We didn't bother to question any of the men, so we're unsure how much they number inside the fort, but perhaps we'll assume the same of a hundred."

Cormrant stiffened at that. He'd still been keeping to the original number of fifty in his head. To take out a hundred fortified men, especially when they had so many archers with them… that wouldn't be easygoing.

"Worry not. They're going to be expecting reinforcements. That'll make them weak," Northman said. "Or so Ser Patrick here reckons, and I'm inclined to agree. They'll be focusing part of their attention on the arrival of their allies and we'll be able to take advantage of that."

"I reckon I'm ready for round two now," Rofus said in the background. Cormrant glanced back at him.

"You're not sending the men for a second fight, are you?" Cormrant asked cautiously.

Northman just shrugged. "Only those that want to. Which happens to be over half."

"Half?" Cormrant repeated incredulously. "Half? This lot? They complain about mere guard duty. Since when have they volunteered for extra work?"

"Since we got us a new sword, I suppose," Northman said, pointing a thumb at Patrick. "The young noble there made our life a considerably bit easier. He's volunteered to help you with driving the nail in the coffin with the fort. I'm sure you'll have a use for him."

"He has?" Cormrant said. He didn't sound particularly excited, Oliver noted. "Wait, does that mean you're giving command for this attack to me?"

"Sure," Northman said, "but I'll be joining in. I'll leave the manoeuvrings to you and I'll look to get my sword a bit wetter. I wasted a good few kills back there just watching."

"…That's out of character," Cormrant said, eyeing Oliver oddly, as though it was his fault. "Fine."

He'd adopted a certain seriousness the second he was guaranteed full command for the assault. Even the way he walked had changed. He strutted about their impromptu camp like a peacock, readying the front line in front of the wagons and planning their strategy.

"A wagon to get to the gates," Northman said. "Or so Ser Patrick suggested."

"And then what?" Cormrant asked over his shoulder, as though the suggestion was ridiculous and not worthy of his attention. "There's still a gate there. We'd have to get through that before it has any use."

"If you'd give me an opening I can deal with the men atop the walls," Oliver said.

"All of them? There's twenty-five men up there?" Cormrant said, pausing his task to give the two of them his full attention. "You agreed with this, Northman?"

The Commander shrugged. "It's a sound plan. He doesn't mean to do it himself entirely. Have our men fire arrows from just out of range to keep them on their toes and then he deals the finishing blow. It seems solid enough to me. We dealt with that lot in the forest without losing a single man, Cormrant.

We can get the whole thing done, if we use the Patrick boy properly."

"That's insane," Cormrant said. "You're usually a logical man, Commander. You gave the command to me. We can't take a fort like that without losing a few men – and if we do things your way, we'll have a noble's death on our hands as well as the ordinary men."

"Cormrant," Northman said coolly. "That wasn't a suggestion. I'm in agreement. A fort like that doesn't fall easily. You will use Ser Patrick, or I'll be retaking command of this."

"…Fine," Cormrant said, as the Commander stared him down. "Though I question, what worth is the command you supposedly gave me, if you're going to decide on the plan yourself?"

"You'll command the men during battle," Northman said, "it's simple enough."

"Whatever you say, Northman," came the response, though it was clear even to an outsider like Oliver that the man was far from happy. He was obeying, but begrudgingly. His fingers caught on his sword belt as he struggled to tighten it, pulling an unhappy face all the while. "You still haven't said how you plan to get the gate open."

Northman shared a look with Oliver. The Vice-Commander had already protested the earlier part, it seemed unlikely that he would give the green light on this one. "…Why don't you just leave that part to us, eh? Just make sure the wagon's empty and you can bring it close."

"Empty the wagon and put it next to the wall and expect magic to happen? Right you are. I've got it," Cormrant said, waving his hands in the air in exasperation. "Is there anything else you want from me, Captain? Perhaps you'd have me sacrifice a few of those goats to Varsharn before we start, as though I were some Yarmdon savage?" Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire

"No, leave the goats," Northman said. "They're for the villagers."

Cormrant tutted loudly and stormed off.

"I thought you said he'd be fine with it," Oliver said quietly once the man was out of earshot.

"Well, I didn't expect him to be fine with it… Though I knew he would agree in the end," Northman said. "He's got a temper to him, but he's still the most loyal man I've got. He'll do what we've asked and he'll do it well."

Northman's words proved to be true enough. Though he did it begrudgingly, Cormrant still made sure the tasks were completed. The rations and the tent poles were offloaded from the wagon and stored temporarily on the ground.

Their little tool was left waiting for them, horse and everything detached. Northman gave it a test shove with his shoulder. The heavy cart moved slightly, on its giant wooden wheels. Not much, but it was enough of a budge that it could work up quite a speed if they got ten men on it.

"Ten men pushing from the back. The archers will pepper the walls whilst we run it, making it near-impossible for them to get a shot off on us, and then we'll hop inside it whilst we're waiting for you to open the gates. Sound right enough?" Northman said, running through the plan in his head.