A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Surprisingly, though, Blackthorn stood her ground, not budging. From the venom in her eyes, Oliver thought she was going to run at Nila there and then. A tense standoff, spanning nearly five seconds, before Blackthorn cooled off enough to step away.

Nila raised an eyebrow at Oliver as she watched her go. She seemed apologetic, but Oliver didn't think she had a reason to be. From the off, she'd gone lightly, by choosing to place the arrow at her stomach rather than at her face.

Of course, she'd found the gap between the plate, and Blackthorn wasn't wearing chainmail on account of its weight, so it ended up being painful enough regardless, even with the arrow padded.

With Blackthorn taken care of, the flow of the battle changed entirely. There was no one to stop Jorah and his men. He seized control of the centre, and bulled straight through. Nila's well-placed arrows took care of any resistance before it could truly mount, buoying both the charge of the right and left flank at the same time.

Both Judas and Firyr shattered through the line. Verdant stood central with a wry smile on his face. He seemed to realize that he'd been defeated, but for the sake of training, he chose not to give up quite yet.

His circular formation would have no use when his entire line was shattered, so instead, he drew the majority of his men back, and at the same time, charged forth towards the left with a party of his own, intending to narrow down the volatile elements while he could.

Judas' charge slowed as Verdant loomed into view, but Jorah urged him forward, as he and his men sought to attack Verdant from the other side.

Judas clashed first, but did so timidly, without committing entirely. He was well aware of Verdant's destructive might by now. Judas' men washed past him, crippling Verdant's instead. When Jorah's men arrived, they did the same, smashing into their sides, getting rid of them all at once.

Soon enough, Verdant was the last man standing, amongst a sea of nearly thirty, with four of them being strong men. Meanwhile, Firyr was charging towards Northman on the right flank, looking for overall victory.

Every time Verdant's spear flashed, a man went down. The fact that he wasn't instantly defeated, despite being surrounded by so many capable men, was a commendable thing. A true demonstration of the strength of the Second Boundary, or perhaps simply the strength of the Blessing of Bohemothia.

Jorah micromanaged the men, suffocated Verdant gradually, bit by bit, attempting to take the range away from his spear. It was to his credit that he didn't panic, even as his own men were tossed so far. To Oliver, it was interesting seeing Judas heed these orders just as much as the rest of them.

When Kaya was able to close the range, the fight changed. Nila allowed the opportunity, sending an arrow towards Verdant's neck, of the sort that he couldn't ignore. As the clumsy man ducked, and used the helmet of his head to deflect the wrapped projectile, Kaya stepped in, and began to unleash strikes to his side in rapid succession.

They didn't manage to rock Verdant, not a single one, but unlike the other strikes Verdant had dealt with, these were strikes that he was forced to brace in order to endure. They locked him in place, and bit by bit, the other men were able to get in close, until they all but smothered him.

Eventually, Verdant was beaten to his knees, and the Patrick men secured victory for themselves this time.

Oliver applauded the spectacle, and Verdant humbly acknowledged his defeat, praising the slaves as though they were equal. They seemed bashful from the praise, which proved to be a rather amusing spectacle from men as big and burly as they.

"Very well done, Lady Felder," Verdant said as well. More than a few slaves were offered the little red headed Lady such praise. Every time a person called her 'Lady Felder' her scowl grew.

"Thank you…" Nila said uncertainly. She'd already chewed Judas out for his lavish praise, but she hesitated to do the same to Verdant, and for good reason. To her, no doubt, her archery skills didn't seem that big a deal, but when each side was as balanced as they were, Nila Felder held in her bow enough power to make the difference.

Oliver nodded to himself, pleased by the progress. Finally, the army that he'd been granted seemed to be making a lick of progress. He dared to hold out hope for victory.

The hopes were quickly dashed a mere two hours later.

"They fell for it, my Lord," Gadar said. As ever, he was impressed by the distance of his General's predictions. He'd dared to doubt his General's commitment, but as soon as Talon had wished it, he'd created a comfortable situation for himself, and was ready to snatch back the momentum in the Macalister's favour.

"They did…" General Talon said from behind his mask. He seemed almost saddened by the prospect. "It is a most unfortunate thing that he was granted so few men. I would have liked to savour this contest more."

"That is not something that you need to bemoan, my Lord. You had no control over such things," Gadar said.

"Indeed, indeed," Talon agreed, "but I still think it a shame nonetheless. Honoured man that Dominus was, I feel more than a little cheap holding such odds over his son."

"Be that what it is, my Lord, I think it's time that we see this matter tended to. The High King will use the length of our stay here as yet another blow against us. No doubt he'll use it as a jab against your competence," Gadar said. It was a position where, no matter what they did, it did not seem like they could win. Well, at least not in the court.

On the battlefield, for General Talon, there was little to be done.