1099: Movents of the Battle Board – Part 2 1099: Movents of the Battle Board – Part 2 “Relax,” Karstly said, tutting.
“That is no cause for concern.
They can throw numbers, but it ans nothing if we have the strategist advance.
You see, Captain Hawthorn, this is an invasion.
The value of this Lonely Mountain extends beyond simply repelling Khan’s initial attack.
It is a thorn in their side that will sit there, and that we can make use of when we inevitably decide to make our counterattack.” “I-I see,” Captain Hawthorn said, bowing his head.
“It seems that I have been quite foolish, forgive General.” Still, it seed as if General Karstly was not quite done with his explanation yet.
“There’s still the other problems with your understanding, Hawthorn.
A single attack to Khan’s rear is not the fullest of our use.
What we can achieve with a re two thousand n applying constant pressure is beyond what we could achieve with a single all out charge.
Against so many n, a battle of attrition is surely one that General Blackwell will insist on fighting.
With crows and the distance between us and our fortress behind us undefended, we will be able to stay in communication with our n, and ensure a regular changing of the guard.
In other words…” Karstly went quiet, as he held up his finger.
“This is a pressure that we can keep up near infinitely.” He leaned back in his chair, letting the weight of his words sink in.
For a detachnt to be able to do what they could, deep into enemy territory… That was nigh on unheard of.
Karstly laid it out so that even the most strategy illiterate of their Captains could understand.
Their advantage would be in a battle of attrition.
“Of course, that is provided that Blackwell’s walls are not breached in a single day,” Karstly said with a small chuckle – a chuckle that the other n didn’t share, since it very much seed like a real possibility.
“The Verna have their siege engines, after all.
Their weapons of war are not to be underestimated… But I say, nor is Lord Blackwell.
That man won those castles in the first place, under just as harsh conditions.
And that begs the question, just how did he manage it?” He laid out two victory conditions in quick succession, willing the n back to their silence.
“The Battle board favours us, gentlen.
Keep your calm, and we will seize our victory, and you will seize the glory.
Our pressure on Khan’s army begins from tomorrow.
Those that wish to volunteer to be amongst the departing armies will need to raise their hands, and we shall pick from amongst them.” Of course, Oliver’s hand went straight into the air.
Beside him, Verdant did the sa, to give their cause more weight.
Captain Lombard and Vice-Captain Tolsey too raised their hands, as did all five of the Blackthorn Colonels, and more than three quarters of the Captains.
“Good, that is to be expected,” Karstly said, nodding at the majority show of hands in the room.
“Those of you that have not volunteered, I can only hope it is because you judged your n to be too wounded for an imdiate fight, and not that it was cowardice.” The way he delivered that line seed more like a threat than it was an acknowledgent.
“Very well, since the raising of hands has hardly solved any problems for us, we will begin by eliminating potential candidates.
Captain Hawthorn, you ought put your hand down.
Your forces need rest, or so Samuel has told .” Slowly, with a degree of embarrassnt – possibly at having been signalled out more than once during their eting – Captain Hawthorn put his hand back down, without a word of protest.
“You, Captain Patrick, better lower that hand as well,” General Karstly said.
“You’ve already broken your sword hand.
Are you trying to incur more wounds?
Rest, you fool.” “With respect, General, my hand is not broken,” Oliver said, holding up his bandaged right hand for the man to see, and making a show of wiggling his fingers.
They weren’t nearly as stiff as they had been in the days before.
The chances of them being fully healed before the end of the week were seeming increasingly high.
For once, Karstly’s surprise seed genuine.
He stood up out of his seat, and strode over, grasping Oliver’s hand by the wrist a degree too roughly.
“Move them,” he demanded again.
Oliver did as he was told.
“By the Gods… I could have sworn…” He fell into thought.
“Very well, I will acknowledge that they are not broken.
But the fact that you still wear a bandage and move them so stiffly is evidence of the fact that they are not in good order.
You will not be brought along on this first ranging.
Rest, with your n.
I will hear no complaints.” It was a frustrating order to be given to a man in Oliver’s current state of mind, but a part of him viewed it as an inevitability.
He had, after all, succumbed to weakness.
His breaking of his hand was a result of that weakness.
That he could even raise his hand here, and show that his fingers did indeed work, and protest against the decision, that was an act of power that should not have been afforded to him.
He knew himself to be in a situation of privilege.
Normal people didn’t get second chances after making a blunder as huge as his.
By the Gods’ intervention – and by Asabel’s – he had that second chance.
Knowing thus, he was able to dip his head with a ekness that even Karstly did not expect.
“…Very well,” he said carefully.
“But I hope that you will not forget my want to take part in these patrols, General.
I can only be patient for so long.” “You threaten , Captain Patrick?” Karstly said, hiding his amusent by a mask that was most intimidating in its seriousness.
“Not a threat, General,” Oliver said.
“I could not make one to a man of your calibre.
Just an expression of a reality that I know to be true.
And a warning, I suppose, with a recomndation on how to make best use of .” Karstly’s mask broke ever so slightly into the smallest of smiles.
“After being reprimanded for your insubordinance, you still seem to be walking quite boldly, Captain.”
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