Chapter 1900: After Victory – Part 3
“You make us look immodest before our new allies,” Verdant seconded, gesturing to the Treeant soldiers that now ford more than half of the Patrick army.
It was interesting to note how quickly those n had found their place. They were an order of warriors that many in the rest of the Stormfront liked to call savages for the way that they dressed, and for their fighting styles. Amongst the Patrick n, however, they did not look or even act so out of place. There was that sa gruff wildness that, within a night of drinking, seed to form a good bridge of understanding between the two of them. There were only the smallest embers of tension – an usual thing. Both on the part of the Patrick n that were quick to embrace their General’s decision of recruiting the enemy, and on the part of those Treeant n, for being open minded enough to do so in the first place.
Naturally, it would be impossible to have them fight entirely as a unified army, but they were not such a weak five thousand as they otherwise would have been, even with that obvious division amongst them – so obvious that they could be told apart rely from the clothes that they wore, and where they stood in the ranks. The Treeant soldiers, as one might expect, all stood together.
It was sothing that Oliver noted, but did not seek to find a quick resolution to. It wasn’t the sort of thing that he thought would improve by force. His n, he trusted, to do that work for him. For they were a strange lot – the likes of Firyr, and of Judas, and Karesh and Kaya, and all those ex-slave soldiers and peasants whose mouths were as foul as their appearances. When they spoke, at tis, they would win smiles from so Treeants, and the occasional snort of laughter here. rely by being as they were, it was enough. That powerful individualism that sprung up amongst the Patricks, that was their strength in monts like this. That charisma that they had.
It was a charisma that had spread even as far as the Erson prisoners. For the ti that they’d spent behind the walls, the Patrick n hadn’t entirely ignored them. For a ti, they would not even look at them, for the harshness of the wounds that army had inflicted, but as the weeks wore on, they saw the truth of it – n just like they. On more than one occasion, drinks had been shared and dice had been tossed together, all in good spirit. It was part of that which had kept the mood of the Erson soldiers away from the mutiny that it would otherwise have sprang towards.
In that regard, Prince Hendrick too had been as good as his word. After inspecting his own n, Oliver went to greet the Prince. The man had been given a horse, and his n had all been given armour fitting of them from Greeves. For the most part, it had simply been returned, and in other cases, the rchant had fetched it from elsewhere. Done with the sort of efficiency that Greeves was fad for, whenever he pursued sothing that he had a personal interest in.
One would have not have thought, from looking at them now, all clean, and organized in their formation, after a few harsh commands barked from General Fitzer, that they had spent as many weeks as they had as prisoners. They were practically bristling, full of energy. They seed to enjoy the prospect of having a duty to carry out. Even Prince Hendrick did – the man was in entirely good spirits when Oliver t with him.
“Good morning, Prince Erson,” Oliver said, greeting him with a dip of his head. “I assu your presence here ans that the outfitting of your n went smoothly enough?”
The Prince nodded. “Your rchant is worth his weight in gold. A dangerous man, he is, if put to the wrong uses.”
“Oh, he raised himself entirely with the wrong uses,” Oliver assured him. “You did not find yourselves at work too deep into the night? We’ve a good distance to cover before we can make nightfall camp.”
“You need not concern yourself with us. My n are well rested. You, it would seem, have seen to that,” Prince Hendrick said. “I will thank you once, General Patrick, for keeping them in the order that you have. Other captors would not have done half as much. And now, I will not ntion it again.”
Fitzer seized the opportunity to insert himself into the conversation. “To make matters clear, General, we are only following you in a defensive capacity, you understand? We have agreed to the escort of Queen Asabel, and nothing else. You are not to expect us to join in on your battling.”
“Indeed,” Oliver said. “I am not to expect you to join in on the fighting,” he repeated, with a slight edge to his voice.
“We shall not join in battle against you, either,” Prince Hendrick assured him. “I have already given you my word on that.”
“Then, we all have our understanding,” Oliver said.
“I don’t like it,” Fitzer grumbled. “Even with our agreents, I cannot bring myself to trust you, General Patrick. I cannot trust a man that never reveals what he is.”
“You would have bear myself on a stone altar for all to see?” Oliver said. “Allow my privacy of existence.”
“That too, I dislike. For a man you age to be speaking thus. It’s unnatural,” Fitzer said. “Dominus has raised sothing strange in you.”
“I will not dwell too rigidly on that,” Oliver said. “But if it ans anything, General, I do feel a good bit easier, knowing that I can count on your strength to see Queen Asabel protected.”
Oliver left him with those words, and a nod to Prince Hendrick, allowing them to make of the complint what they would. Before Hod arrived, he still had his own matters that he wanted to tend to – naly a word with the rchant that they’d already ntioned, though he found himself wondering quite where they’d got to.
Away from where his Patrick army was gathering, in a small group just by the gate, that looked more of rcenaries than they did of soldiers, there was a conspicuous patch of red hair, sticking out from under a fur hat that seed far too large for the lady that wore it.
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