1152: Equal Scales – Part 7 1152: Equal Scales – Part 7 Oliver bit his lip.
“Sothing…” He muttered to himself, unaware of the gold that was tainting his eyes, as his greed took over.
A re Captain shouldn’t have held the longing to influence the battlefield that he did, but he couldn’t help but think that he hadn’t been used as well as he ought to have been, not yet.
Who was to know his capabilities better than he?
Karstly could position him where he wished to, but no matter how much of a genius the man was, he ought not to have been able to tell how far Oliver was likely to go better than the young man himself.
Or so Oliver thought.
As the n began their retreat, Oliver’s eyes hit upon a certain gathering of n.
As was expected to happen, responses would soon coalesce.
Violet Commandants would find their n rushing to them, just as Rogue Commandants would find their n rushing in the sa direction.
Resistance accumulated, or it was destroyed.
Even in the middle of the battlefield, Oliver could see the truth of such laws, inherent in the actions of n, as he spied a gathering of nearly three thousand soldiers entrenching themselves in the middle of the Verna encampnt.
In their Verna tongue, two Rogue Commandants gave off their orders, gathering Violet Commandants beneath them.
Heavy shieldwielders, and spearwielders too, and even so archers, they all gathered, and they attempted to establish their formation.
It was far from being ready, but was as complete a bit of resistance as could be mounted in the short ti that they had to prepare.
“What are you doing, Patrick!?” Lombard said, finding Oliver standing by himself, aside on his horse, seemingly lost to the world as he simply stopped to stare in a certain direction.
“We’re leaving, boy!
We’ll be trapped if we stay any longer.” “Lombard,” Oliver said, nodding towards the n.
“…” Lombard looked in the sa direction as he, he studied all that he could, and his experienced eyes drew an imdiate and harsh conclusion.
“No,” he said with all the firmness that he could muster.
His words and his expression were like ice.
The blue uniform of the Blackwells that he wore was stained with blood.
The man seed to have already had his fill.
Any other man would have yielded there and then.
Few disobeyed Captain Lombard.
There were legends of even Colonels bowing to the man, when he delivered a particularly harsh criticism.
He was a man that held the respect of Generals, after all.
He was not of high rank – not as high as he could have been – but as far as soldiers went, there were few that could be called more perfect than him.
Now the Patrick n were returning.
It was as they were hawks, and they’d responded to the raising of Oliver’s arm.
They all flew back to him, carrying within their claws the Violet plud heads of the prey that they had slain.
“No,” Lombard said again, this ti putting his hand on Oliver’s shoulder.
“Do not.
It is not your place.
You take a risk without reason.” “There is every reason,” Oliver said.
He could feel the certainty in his chest.
What better situation could there be for an assault than this?
Against an unprepared enemy, as strong as they were?
They needed to kill every officer that they could if they wished to have a chance, and as it stood, General Karstly’s pincer attack had not accomplished nearly enough.
“We have lost our castle, Lombard.
We will have our price.” “Against our General’s orders,” Lombard said, urgency in his tone.
He gripped Oliver’s shoulder tightly enough to tear it off.
“I will slay them myself, if you are not willing,” Oliver said.
Lombard gnashed his teeth.
There was a boy barely old enough to be on the battlefield, and he was moving as if to give orders to a man so many years his superior.
The most damning part of it all, though, was the fact that Lombard found his heart swayed.
As angry as he was, and as firm in his decision as he was, he found himself influenced by Oliver’s urging.
That only made his anger all the worse.
“Damn it all,” Lombard hissed, pulling away.
He knew that he’d have to leave the boy.
There would be no changing his mind.
“There’s no one as stubborn as you in all the Stormfront.” Oliver smiled at that.
It was a familiar phrase.
It was Dominus that had first christened him with it.
He’d stated that to be the reason that he had survived Ingolsol’s curse, when no one in known history had been able to endure it.
He didn’t think it to be an insult; he thought it to be a badge of honour.
Before Lombard could push the matter any further, Oliver’s hawk returned.
His officers surrounded him in a circle.
First there ca Lady Blackthorn, in a flutter of shining black hair, carefully braided so that it was like a rope.
It ran long down her slender back, and beat a rhythm as she thought.
She nodded to him, beneath her half-mask helt.
All that could be seen were her deep black eyes, and the smallness of her nose.
Then there was Verdant Idris, as powerful as a mountain.
The man that had once been a priest, who had taken so effortlessly to the battlefield.
All the clumsiness that had haunted him in the past seed like a distant mory.
He was a terrifying man to face off against.
His sheer physical might was not that of the Second Boundary.
His expression was stoney, and serious, much like Captain Lombard himself.
The two seed like two sides of the sa coin as they passed each other to arrive at Oliver.
Verdant needed not say a word.
He just waited, the smallest of smiles on his lips.
He knew what was coming.
He could read it in Oliver’s eyes.
The gold flecks that sparkled they – they stated the boy’s wanting.
Behind him, there was Yorick, doing his best to hide his flustered state.
He was drenched in sweat, and his face was red.
The short battling that they’d endured had knocked the wind out of him.
It was not a sight that Oliver overlooked with any asure of disapproval.
He could see a new strength emanating off of Yorick, if only he had the confidence to seize it.
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Nick_Alderson Super late chapter today, sorry everyone.
The auto release didn’t work as it should have
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