A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1029 The Lonely Mountain - Part 5

1029: The Lonely Mountain – Part 5

1029: The Lonely Mountain – Part 5

It was strange to feel so weak.

It had been so long since he’d felt a similar emotion.

He knew he wasn’t quite as strong as he could be.

He’d thought of the Fourth Boundary more than once, but had been put off by how tumultuous the entry into the Third Boundary had been.

It wasn’t as if he could ask Queen Asabel for assistance in that regard any longer.

“Tsch.

Fear is to be used on the enemy, not on ourselves,” Ingolsol said.

“You’re cursing yourself with your own thoughts.”

“I am in agreement.

You have found balance, Oliver,” Claudia said.

“Progress of the natural sort will cause you ills no longer.”

Even with their words, it was difficult to push it aside.

He felt as if there was a chain holding him back.

His heart desperately yearned to get stronger.

It was an emotion that he’d felt for over a decade, but with his sickness, he’d been forced to stifle it.

He wanted to get stronger, but of his own strength, the very chains that currently held him in place had been forged.

He gnashed his teeth.

Nila would accuse him of recklessness for what he was about to do, but he knew no other way.

He didn’t have a cunning plan fit for the occasion.

He only knew of the sort of battle that he’d learned.

Even with a broken hand, there was little change that could be done to stifle that.

Nila would tut at him, and urge him towards safety.

“But what of Asabel?” Oliver wondered.

Would she grow sick of him, when he ended up in the filth once more, after attempting to climb higher than he had the skills for?

The mere thought filled him with repulsion.

He couldn’t afford to put himself in such positions of weakness – yet he’d ended up in one, and to get out of it, he risked weakness once more.

There was nothing clean to be done.

It was only forwards, on the strength of will, to the best degree that he could.

“…My Lord, I think you might have come to this conclusion yourself,” Jorah began, interrupting Oliver’s thoughts.

“But the unbarricaded path seems to be the only way.

The enemy invites us up purposely, but I can see no other option.”

“I am of the same mind, Jorah,” Oliver said.

“It will be gruelling.

There’s no strategy to be had here.

Just a gruesome advance forward.

The worst sort of thing when our men are so tired.”

“I am sure that we can make it work all the same, my Lord,” Jorah said confidently.

“If the enemy are pinned in place – they’re pinned in place against us.

Our attacking might, even in exhaustion, is not something that any foe can afford to underestimate.”

“…Quite right,” Oliver said, quietly giving his agreement, though there was distraction interrupting a proper reply.

Something about what Jorah said had almost given birth to a new idea.

When he’d said it, Oliver had felt as if he’d remembered something – but surely he hadn’t forgotten the fact of their attacking might.

‘No… But I might have forgotten the fact that it still stands, even without me,’ Oliver thought.

Indeed.

There was something to that.

Always fighting at the front.

Always aiming for the General’s head himself.

Was his army really so weakened with him missing a hand?

Oliver wasn’t so sure.

Firyr had just ascended to the Second Boundary himself, and Oliver had already begun to instinctively create a battle plan around him.

Some part of him had recognized fundamentally the importance of that, but so much of his mind had still been occupied with the fact of his own weakness.

‘Ah, is it really so simple?’ Oliver said to himself.

‘I am compromised as a Sword, at least for now.

Or at least, I am potentially compromised.

It might be that even with my left hand, I can still perform admirably… But that is not the point.

The point is that there’s another way.

There’s Khastly’s way.

There’s Khan’s way.

There’s the path of those men who can stand up to simple physical might.

There’s the way of the General.’

That thought came with the stamping of unified feet.

It was as if the army itself had acknowledged his conclusion.

He turned his head, to see Blackthorn men moving, carrying the hundreds of shields that the Patrick men were due to need.

“I have returned, my Lord, with the shields that we require,” Verdant said.

“Have you given thought to how we will approach this attack?”

“Indeed I have,” Oliver said, meeting him with a smile.

A true smile this time, for it was an optimistic one.

He’d only just learned of a realm of Command that he’d previously been unaware of.

The new idea ought to lead to new potential.

He could feel the significance of it, and with it, his exhaustion slowly began to melt away.

“Tell the men to dismount.

We will gather all our horses towards the rear.

They do not need to be wasted here.”

Verdant paused momentarily.

He could not hide the flicker of surprise.

‘Finally,’ Oliver thought, smiling wider.

‘Finally, at least, I can stay a step ahead of those eyes, my retainer.’

“Very well,” Verdant said.

“It shall be done.

Will you wish for me to take care of Walter?”

Oliver dismounted then, and handed his loyal retainer the reins of his trusty mount.

“If you would.”

Bit by bit, the plan began to come together in his head.

The Patrick army would not be weakened by his mistake, Oliver swore to make sure of it.

Instead, it would be transformed.

As each man was given a shield, that transformation began in a physical aspect.

Just the addition of that single bit of defensive equipment transformed their appearance entirely.

They were round shields, much like the Yarmdon.

It was strange, Oliver thought, the way he was vaguely proud of that fact.

It was as if they were showing respect to the Yarmdon ways, though begrudgingly.

They could have copied the Syndran small shields, or the Verna square shields, but it was the Yarmdon that the Blackthorn men had turned to when they put in their order.

Oliver nodded approvingly, as he was given a shield of his own.

These shields had served the Yarmdon that he’d fought against well.

He swore to make just as much use of it himself.