A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The Commander shook his great bearded head miserably. "That's about what I expected… But it still stings to hear it laid out so plainly. The men have kept their morale by relying on you for a miracle…"

"Miracles don't happen like that," Nila said, crossing her arms. "But if we build something for him, to give Oliver a better chance, then maybe something can turn in our favour…"

"Nila, you basically said the same thing as him," Oliver said, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Nila said, holding her ground. "I agree with him on that you're the only advantage we have – but I disagree on making you do all the work yourself."

"I never said…" Northman started to protest, but a look for Nila silenced him.

"I don't think you understand," Oliver said. "I'm not an advantage we hold over them. The man they sent from the Capital is almost assuredly the same strength in melee as me, as well as a more experienced General. At best, we're even, at worst, I'm weaker."

"That's impossible," this time it was Lady Blackthorn that spoke up. The sudden presence of her quiet voice brought to a halt whatever protests Northman and Nila were about to make.

"Do you have something to add, Lady Blackthorn?" Oliver asked.

"Nothing – apart from the fact that it's impossible you'll lose," Lady Blackthorn said resolutely. "My father fights his battles in a particular way – he always goes for the enemy General's head, knowing that he cannot best him in strategy. Why, Ser Patrick, are we not assuming that you can do the same? Numbers count for little when their General is dead on the floor."

It was an awfully bone-curdling statement to hear from a girl that seemed such a quiet beauty. Her words cut more deeply for that fact.

With her statement, there came an unexpected ally, as Nila nodded approvingly. "She's right," Nila said. "I don't know anything about strategy, or whatever – but if you kill their leader, then the men fall apart, don't they? You were worried that he'd be able to reform the lines once you break them. He can't do that if he's dead, can he?"

Oliver struggled to hide his smile. In truth, it was the same plan that he himself had come up with. Or at least, the goal of the plan was the same. It was hard to call 'kill the enemy General' much of a plan, after all.

"Alright," Northman said. "There's something we can agree on. It's much easier to kill one man than five hundred men. But how do you reach him?"

"Is the more important question not how can I defeat him if I do reach him?" Oliver asked, approaching exasperation with their faith that he'd be able to defeat whatever man he encountered. He was only of the Third Boundary, after all. Whoever the enemy General was, Skullic had assumed that he would at least be of the Fourth Boundary, as most Generals were.

"With all due respect, Captain, if we assume that you can't beat that man, then we don't have a chance in hell out here," Northman said.

There were murmurs of quiet agreement at that. It was an awful lot of pressure to be put on any man. The very fact that the success of this mission – and the retention of their lives – hinged on the strength of Oliver's sword, and the strength of his leadership. Both were tasks that he would need to juggle simultaneously.

"Fine," Oliver said. "We'll make that assumption, however egregious it might be. Does anyone else have any thoughts as to how we might break that line? Jorah? What of you, Sergeants?"

"As your retainer, my Lord," Jorah began, speaking up, his voice cracking. He had to hurriedly clear his throat before he continued. "Whilst I think it is fine – and even right – to place our faith in you, it would be foolish to expect you to both break the line, and deal with the enemy General yourself.

To be in the best position of victory, you would at least need to challenge him on equal footing – if not with the advantage in your favour."

"Indeed," Oliver agreed. "If I run out of momentum merely breaking the line, the General will cut me down long before I reach him."

That line provoked more than a few frowns, but at this point, none could protest.

"How then, do we break the line?" Northman said. "Is that the basic problem here, if I were to summarize it?"

"No, not quite," Oliver said. "Breaking the line is one thing, but as we've noted before, it doesn't ensure victory. Even if I were not to be involved, and I saved my strength for the instant that we broke through, I'm unsure whether it would be enough, as we currently are… I do not think that we can achieve this in one go."

It was the same piece of advice that Volguard had given him – don't try to win in a single day. It was the urging that he use proper strategy. After all, true strategy wasn't merely charging at the foe, hoping for victory in one go. Strategy was the process by which a solid brick wall was gradually worn away by a series of waves.

"I'm in agreement, my Lord," Jorah said. "Though I do not know how we'll be able to build towards it."

"Nor do I," Oliver said. "I am certain it is what no man here wishes to hear, but I do not know how we will build such a bridge either. We've come to the conclusion that we'll need to break through their line at some point, but currently, we lack what is necessary to do so. As such, I would like to ask for an opportunity for some leeway."

"Leeway, Captain?" Northman asked, frowning.

"Indeed," Oliver said. "I do not know whether it will work or not, but I would like the opportunity to try a more strategic approach of wearing away at the enemy. I beg the need for leeway, because this is an element of battle most unfamiliar to me.

It could well be that we simply waste our time on it, and our strength, and we miss the opportunity to throw ourselves on a single suicidal charge as we've been planning to."