A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Ready?" Northman rejoined them. They acknowledged him with the slightest indications of their heads. Their eyes were shining with anticipation. "So it would seem…" Northman noted as he stole a glance at Oliver. "Cormrant is doing the final checks, I expect him to give the order any minute now. Slow at first, boys, until we hit the arrow range."

Oliver ducked back to join them. Just because he was going to be the one attacking the walls didn't mean that he couldn't help push the vehicle in place. Though, if he'd insisted on it, no one would have complained. The hardest task by far was left to him.

"Forward," Cormrant said, loud enough for them to hear, but not loud enough to invoke any sort of excitement. It wasn't the true charge, after all. This was a mere attempt at repositioning. No excitement was to be had at simply repositioning.

At his words, the archers went first. They'd given fifty men bows, prioritising the tired soldiers that had attacked the woods earlier, giving them something less exerting to do. When they'd last looked – and now still – the bandits had managed to field twenty-five bowmen on top of the walls.

Whether or not that was their maximum capacity was one thing, but fifty well-trained bowmen – and all of the soldiers were trained with the bow to a degree – would keep them well and truly pinned down.

The archers set a steady rhythm across the snow. A steady march, with Cormrant in the middle, a serious expression on his face.

The infantry went next. A good forty men, armed with their spears.

In between them both, there sat the wagon that the twelve of them pushed – Oliver, Northman and Oliver's men – shuttling across the snow. They'd left the rest of their wagons next to the trees. With the bandit camp in the forest dealt with, they'd dared to do so, gambling that there wouldn't be a second attack. It was a risk to take, but a worthwhile one.

More than a few soldiers were sparing a furious glance towards the wagon. Not all of them had been informed of the plan, after all, but none of them asked questions. When it came the moment to step on a battlefield, a soldier seemed to finally learn what professionalism meant.

The wagon was much easier to push with so many men on it. It took hardly any effort for them to keep it moving now that it was going. Oliver had a sneaking suspicion that Amberlan was doing most of the work.

Rofus too seemed to be aware of that, for he'd positioned himself on Amberlan's side of the wagon and was making a great show of pretending he was exerting himself, though Oliver could see he was hardly putting any strength in at all.

"Archers!" Cormrant said, once they were in range. Oliver peaked past the side of the wagon, towards the wall. Indeed, the bandits were ready and waiting for them. They were only just outside of their bowrange now, close enough to begin to make out details of the old wooden walls, and the thick gate.

It might have been a viable strategy to burn those walls to the ground. They had the oil and the arrows for it, after all. But, they'd been instructed to capture it in working order. Skullic, apparently, had plans for it.

The archers notched their bows. Cormrant signalled with his hand, and they stepped forward together, angling their weapons upwards and unleashing a great flight of death towards the wall. Just in range, it seemed. A few thudded in the wood of the wall itself, but a great deal went reigning down on those on the ramparts.

They'd been given enough warning to duck themselves promptly out of the way, though. The arrows didn't manage to claim a single life, though they did ensure they hadn't been able to return fire.

After that initial test shot, Cormrant repositioned the men, until he was sure that they were perfect. Then he gave the nod to the Commander. "It's all yours, Northman. Claudia be with you in your recklessness."

"I'd hope you'd be with us too. The covering fire is what's going to keep us alive. Stagger the men, aye? They haven't increased their archers. Twenty-five a round should be enough," Northman said.

Cormrant looked annoyed to be told that. He twisted his face, making it clear that he'd already been about to do that. "Yes, Commander," is what he said, though, with the utmost politeness.

They fired another shot as they prepared themselves. "Give the order, if you would, Vice-Commander."

He heaved a sigh, but he did as he was told regardless. "Wagon-team," he said, "charge the walls. Ensure the breech!"

"""YES, VICE-CAPTAIN!"""

The men responded together, the very picture of discipline. Northman echoed them, seeming to enjoy playing at new recruit once again. Then, they weren't playing. They were pushing. A hard shoulder from Amberlan instilled the wagon with some momentum once more, then a vicious push from Northman added to that. When the weight of all twelve men was thrown at it, the wagon was well and truly shifting.

Then, it was time to build speed. They wanted it flat against the gates before the archers could pin them full of arrows. It was a quest of speed. The backside of the wagon was open, so that the men could jump inside as soon as it reached its destination, freeing them from the arrows that would no doubt be coming their way.

They sent it faster and faster. With the adrenaline in their veins and so many men working together at once, they managed to get it to a rather respectable speed. It certainly helped that the ground was still relatively flat.

Oliver felt the rock underfoot of the cobblestone road, marking the halfway point between themselves and the enemy. Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire

Now they could hear shouts of dismay from the wall, as the bandits only just realized what was approaching them.