1023: General Karstly’s Plan – Part 9 1023: General Karstly’s Plan – Part 9 He asked that question, despite knowing the answer already for himself.
The Yorick n had been hit hardest during the first battle, and the continued march through the night had been tough on them.
They were barely able to keep on their feet.
“They’re… struggling, Captain,” Yorick said, making an effort to remain cordial, though it was clear that he was afflicted by a similar sort of exhaustion.
Even such rudintary conversation with his superior was coming as sothing of a struggle.
“You fought well in our battle with Khan, regardless,” Oliver said.
“…I do not think we fought quite as well as the other mbers of the Patrick forces,” Yorick said slowly, as if supposing that he might have walked into a trap.
“That is to be expected.
You have not been with us long, and you have not battled as often as we have.
For your first battle with us to be a battle of that size – I say you did well, despite the positions that we put you in,” Oliver said.
The Commander seed to recognize that as genuine praise, for he stood up a little straighter.
“We’re missing most of our mounts though, my Lord.
Our cavalry is only half as strong as it was.
We’re half infantry now.” “And that will make you stronger still,” Oliver said, recalling the sa words that Verdant had said to him.
“A soldier should be versatile, capable of fighting even when his main weapon is taken away,” he said, carefully concealing his bandaged hand behind his back.
It was hidden inside a large cavalry glove as well, but Oliver still found the need to hide it regardless.
“That seems to be wise, Captain,” Yorick said.
“Survive, and you’ll see them to be so,” Oliver said.
“This is the last push.
Another three hours, and your n will be resting.
Reassure them of that.
They’ve already accomplished much.
This is the last of it.” “Very well, Captain.
I shall tell them.
Thank you,” Yorick took the words with a dip of his head.
Oliver returned the gesture with a nod.
“Lasha, you ought to tell your n the sa,” Oliver said.
He noted that she was standing unsurely, looking at the ground.
She seed lost in thought.
Or she might have simply been that exhausted.
The Blackthorn soldiers that she was ant to be leading were standing ready in their formation, admirable in their discipline.
“Hm?” Lasha said, looking up.
Oliver took a step towards her, and quietened his voice, shielding their conversation as best as he could from the rest of the officers.
“Don’t get distracted,” he told her.
“What’s done is done.
Worse still might happen if you don’t concentrate.
You have more than just a sword to fight with now, Lasha.
You’ve a hundred n.
Keep them sharp.
Praise them.
Tell them how useful you found them in the battle with Khan, because you surely found them useful, did you not?” “…I did,” Lasha said.
“It was good to have that kind of reach.
I felt as if my attacks ant more.
I was sure that if I could break through, sothing would happen from it, because I had my n behind .” “Then tell them that,” Oliver said.
“Is it not too simple?” Lasha said.
“I don’t have a use for words like you do, Oliver.
I can’t inspire them.
The more I talk, the sillier I shall seem.” “Talk regardless.
They’re your n.
You can’t hide yourself from them.
Not if you wish to lead them,” Oliver said.
He said that, despite the hand that he had clasped behind his back.
Lasha seed to notice the contradiction, for she glanced in the direction of the wound, and she bit her lip.
“…If I am able to use my n better, then we are stronger, aren’t we?” Lasha said, as if to confirm sothing to herself.
It seed an awfully obvious line of questioning, but the words must have held a greater deal of aning for her.
“That’s for a certainty,” Oliver said.
“It would be of a great benefit to all the Patrick forces if we could fight together more freely.” “Then I shall try,” Lasha said.
She moved to speak to them, with a certain degree more determination than she’d had when speaking to them before.
“One would not think you were injured,” Verdant noted, as Lasha left.
“You still make ti for the n, despite your declaration that you wish to get stronger.
You’re a dutiful man, my Lord.” “That isn’t it at all, Verdant,” Oliver said.
“My n are a part of my strength now.
In speaking to them, I act in alignnt with what I’ve already said.” Verdant smiled ever so slightly.
“I suppose that is true.
Ah, but look – the call is about to co.” Though Oliver had looked in the sa direction as Verdant, he didn’t at all see the indication that Verdant seed to be pointing to.
There was no sign of movent, apart from the movent of Captains amongst their own n.
Karstly was still, patting the head of his horse, feeling its soft fur between its two upright ears.
Then, all of a sudden, the command ca from his mouth.
“If you are all quite ready, we will advance,” Karstly said.
He said it ever so casually.
The n had been relatively stiff as they waited for him.
A boisterous battlecry seed like it would have been more fitting.
But for General Karstly, apparently, it would have been out of place.
Instead, he simply sauntered forward on his horse, barely at a walk, and his retainers trailed along behind him.
The noise only began when the Colonels started to give their orders.
“ALL TROOPPPS, ADVANCE!” Colonel Gordry shouted.
Now his words seed out of place with the atmosphere that General Karstly had created.
They scorched Oliver’s ears and reminded him of just how tired he was.
That, and the mind-numbing throbbing of his broken hand, as he tried to store the pain away at the back of his awareness, so that he might deal with it at a later date.
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