A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The main bulk of the army was forced to lose its formation, for the most part, as it crept from barricade to barricade, doing what they could to get into position. There weren't enough shields for every man, after all.

Only when the army had passed halfway up the hill did the arrows begin to fly.

THWAMP, THWAMP, THWAMP.

Oliver walked with the cart men, using the safety offered by another man's shield as he went. He heard the patter of arrows, more than he saw it. His men stiffened the instant they landed, and their forward motion was stifled ever so slightly as they braced themselves. But then the storm passed, and it was clear that they could not be harmed.

They pushed forward again, with a certain amount of confidence.

Atop the wall, the Macalister men could do little but wait.

"Ought we to allow them so close, my Lord?" Gadar asked.

"They clearly have a plan in mind, Gadar. What kind of man would I be if I did not let them exercise?" Talon replied.

Gadar most certainly did not like the sound of that, but he was in no position to protest. Thus far, their battling with Oliver Patrick had played out exactly as General Talon had predicted. He had no choice but to trust that it would continue to do so.

"Those rams, though, my Lord…" Gadar said. "They seem a foolishness. They won't be able to get the power necessary to do any damage to our gate."

"I wonder about that," Talon said. "Have you not seen the mule-like men that push them? Do you not see how quickly they are advancing up the hill? Once again, it seems as if Oliver Patrick has brought some unknown quality that we were unaware of. Twelve men are doing the work of double that, and then some. I don't doubt that they'll be able to leave a mark on our gates."

"Then, ought we not to stop them?" Gadar said. "Before they can position themselves any better? Should we not sally forth?"

"The enemy is inclined to weaken themselves further, Gadar. What sort of fool would I be if I set out to interrupt them? That said, you will have the oil ready and waiting when they arrive, I trust? The best those men can hope for is a single charge," Talon said. "That will be the test of just how strong they are."

As the carts continued to roll into position, it was the men that did not yet have an active role to play that were finding it difficult. At Nila's urging, Jorah had been made to go to one of the closer battlements, and the red-haired girl was taken full advantage of the position, firing shots whenever she could, between the waves of arrow fire that were being sent their way.

Nearly every time she shot, a man fell. She'd tried to drill an arrow towards the enemy General and his attendants more than once, but her attempts had been blocked by the shield-wielding soldiers that stood nearby them. As such, she resorted to targeting the archers, whenever they came up from behind their wall to fire another shot. Already, she'd put down a handful of them.

Jorah had to gulp at her display.

He'd been made to pair with her, as part of a four-man group, but he still hardly knew how to speak to her. He was meant to be in charge, at least slightly – they were of equivalent rank, after all – but he found it immensely difficult to give her any sort of order.

More difficult than that, though, was waiting, and having nothing to do himself. He was forced to cower behind the wooden barricades, alongside another group of men, as they simply hunkered down amidst that aggressive storm of arrow fire, and hoped for an opportunity to soon show themselves.

Such was true for the majority of the army. Only Oliver Patrick and the battleram teams continued to go forward. Further men would have been a waste. They would have simply been leaving men at risk of being fired upon, without anything for them to achieve for their efforts.

Every man was in position now, aside from those carts. Cormrant waited just out of arrow range with his horsemen – they could easily close the distance when necessary, after all. Aside from them, every other man had a barricade that they were hidden behind, and they waited, and waited, praying for the opportunity to do something to offset their nerves.

"In position!" Northman's voice rang out, as Oliver's carts passed the designated line. It would not be long until they made contact with the enemy gates.

"It's now, isn't it?" Karesh confirmed, the nervousness evident in his voice. The manoeuvre that the army now needed to follow was liable to be one fraught with difficulty, Jorah knew. To attempt to coordinate a group as large as their army in a task that they'd never had the opportunity to try before in training would be a difficult thing. It was a process heavily reliant on Sergeants.

Whilst Jorah wasn't the only Sergeant stationed behind their barricade, he was most certainly the highest ranking, and he sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to speak before his nerves could get to him.

"That's the signal," he said, not shouting, but still speaking loud and clear. "On three, we will move the shield wall at once. Grasp a shield now. Those without a shield are to remain behind men that do have one, and they are to take up the stakes out of the ground, and bring them forward."

They were listening to him, a fact that still struck Jorah as strange. After all, he was still so young, yet these grown men, veterans of more battles than he could even count, were dipping their heads to him, as though he was some noble, and not just another Serving Class runt like them.

"Me as well?" Nila asked. She'd already nocked another arrow on her bow.

Jorah simply shook his head at the question. It would have been a waste to tie Nila down with the mere task of moving. She was gradually thinning the enemy numbers basically by her lonesome after all. So much so that Jorah was beginning to entertain the ambitious hope of having her halve the entirety of the enemy's force before they even engaged.