A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1910: A Timely March - Part 7

When that question was posed, that answer could not have been more obvious. Partially obscured by the fog it might have been, but the strength of that hill, so near Broadstone’s fort, that was not an easy thing to hide.

Even as Blackthorn and Verdant were seeing other men gathered for the purposes of scouting, with Gar included amongst them, Oliver was making his way towards that hill, certainty in his stride. If they were to fight anywhere, it would be here, he was sure of it. The question, however, was simply proving that the battle had taken place. There certainly hadn’t been enough snow to hide corpses...

"Ah." Oliver’s breath caught in his throat.

What he was looking for was right there, in a pile, half-powdered by snow. Blackwell surcoats he well recognized, and then a good deal of soldiers covered entirely in plate amongst them. From the way they were piled, it looked as if they had been rolled down the hill, merely to get them out of sight. And if it looked like that, and Tiberius was involved, then that almost certainly was the case.

Oliver’s heart beat faster. He found himself dwelling for far too long on the smaller details, as if trying to hide himself from drinking in all that he saw at once. He made himself take measured breaths, fighting against the rising panic.

"My Lord—" Verdant pulled in next to him, to inform him that the order had been carried out, only for his words to be caught in his throat, as he took in what Oliver saw as well.

Thousands lay dead at the bottom of that hill, Oliver was sure of that. If Blackwell had fought here, and he had won, would he have left his soldiers piled up like that? Oliver thought not. It supported the notion of a hasty retreat all the more... That part supported it anyway.

"My Lord," Verdant said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Don’t say it, Verdant," Oliver said.

"I..." Verdant, a man who always knew what to say, could not find the words. Those words that did follow came with tears, from a man that always seemed so immoveable. "Truly, truly, my Lord, I am sorry. Know that I feel your pain with you."

"We have seen many thousands die before, Verdant," Oliver said, feeling his own voice grow choked up, for reasons he did not understand. "We will endure."

"My Lord... Surely you see it too?" Verdant said, more gentle than he had ever been.

"By the Gods..." Blackthorn came by them too. She saw the look on Verdant’s face, then she drank in all that was in front of them, and she collapsed to her knees. None could have accused her of being emotionless then. Oliver saw the horror written on her face. That complete, and overwhelming distraught. A woman whose heart had been torn in two, and then snatched up once more, to be torn into a thousand pieces. He saw the look, and he found that it frightened him.

"The two of you... Don’t," Oliver pleaded. "Please, don’t look like that... You’ll make me... I don’t know what I’ll do... You’re frightening me."

The mighty General who had seen fifteen thousand men so inspired – and now the boy that had once feared the dark. And now the same boy who feared that crushing pain of loss.

The tears were in Oliver’s eyes, and he could not understand why. He’d seen many men die before. He’d had to harden his heart to it. He mourned for them, in the quiet of his own home, but not on the battlefield. To do so there would be to abandon his duty to those men that still lived.

Verdant pulled him into an embrace, dragging their two horses closer. "My Lord, truly, I am truly sorry..."

"You know, Verdant..." Oliver said, practically babbling, forgetting who he was, and what his story was, and simply remembering the pain. Those old stabbing wounds, that which he feared above everything else. "I sort of wish that I’d died back then... I really do. I’ve tried hard, I promise I have... But I’m really not sure at all if I deserve to live. I did nothing. I could do nothing. My mother, and father, they protected me... but I could not even protect her, not even my little sister, you know..."

"My Lord," Verdant begged. "Please. I require you, my Lord... Please..."

"My heart, it hurts," Oliver said. "I do not know what I can do to stop it aching. All these years, so many important people I’ve lost, because of my foolishness, my lack of strength. But really, it began then. When I lost mother, and I lost father and my little sister, and I could do nothing at all. I think... I don’t know... maybe I deserved to die after all. Sometimes I feel so strong, as if there were no man in the kingdom that could challenge me, and other times, I’m reminded of all that I have failed to protect."

"My Lord, gather yourself," Verdant said. "Gather yourself. It is done – it is already done. These men they require you. They all require you. The monster that saw this done, someone needs to defeat him."

"The monster? They were Yarmdon soldiers," Oliver said, frowning. "It was just a raid. The sort that happens all over the country, and no one thinks on it. But this one, it was my family that they slew..."

"My Lord," Verdant said. "You see them, do you not?"

The look on Verdant’s face was regretful, beyond his tears. "I am sorry my Lord. I am sorry for making you look. I am as much of a sinner as you believe yourself to be. But we require you, my Lord."

AWOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The sound of a horn blown in the distance. Then the thundering of the earth, along with the hooves of heavy cavalry. Oliver looked over his shoulder, in time to see the Emerson soldiers that he’d placed in the rear charged by a cavalry that he knew not existed.

Those banners, those dreadful things. What manner of creature was that meant to be? A dragon? A goblin? A hydra? It was difficult to tell – all that was certain was that it was an abomination.