"He should have sent East," Talon said. "Blackwell could have done with the aid. We could have finally pushed them back."
"You know he does not value the Eastern conflict. It wins the crown very little coin," Gadar replied.
"True enough…" Talons said, going silent for a ti. "How is the morale amongst the Macalister n?"
"They are impatient, my Lord. There are more than a few rumours going around about the Masked Bastard. So even claim that you might be an imposter," Gadar said.
"An imposter? That's nonsense!" Talon said, with mock drama. The two shared a wry smile. "Well, I suppose, it is about ti I secure them under my command for good. We'll give them sothing to bite on."
"Are you giving the order then?" Gadar asked. "Who will you send?"
It was Rivera who'd been given the honour of burning the barricades last ti. Gadar itched for sothing to do. Unlike his General, the three attendants that Talon had brought with him neglected to wear a mask. The High King, after all, had only ordered that Talon stay hidden, and unknown. He hadn't said the sa of his n.
It was one of Talon's many subtle little hits back at the High King, but so far, it seed as if the Macalister n did not recognize a single one of three. That wasn't especially surprising.
"Rivera again, I do think," Talon said. "It's important to be consistent. Give the order now, so that it may be done in the light of day. Bring the n to the wall to witness it, if you would."
"As you will, my Lord," Gadar said, not letting a single lick of his disappointnt shine through.
…
…
Oliver reduced the amount that his n would battle for the rest of that day and he planned to keep it low in the days that followed. He was pleased enough with their progress that he didn't think further battling would gain them all that much.
The n were beginning to understand each other's strengths and weaknesses, and the slaves were consistently able to perform at a high enough level to be useful.
He made sure that he didn't grow content with such agre progress though. Already, a good few days had passed after all. Right now, they ought to have been sitting down doing classes in the Academy, but there seed to be little chance of that any ti soon.
His n did their best not to show their anxiety as one day followed the next, but no doubt they were beginning to feel it. Extended days in the field, dealing with the pressure of impending violence was a difficult thing for any man to deal with, and his retainers didn't share the experience of soldiers.
Oliver knew that sohow, he needed to go further than he had, and secure so sort of aningful advantage against the General. Sothing that he could build on. He'd managed his score against the cavalry, but there seed to be no way forward after that.
Of course, he'd set up his barricades, so they could actually make it to the walls now, but a straight-on fort-storm would be ill-favoured when they had so few n. Sieges, Volguard said, should always be conducted with at least two tis the n of the defenders. Lacking such n, Oliver had to play carefully.
As if to answer his questions, a shout from the n brought his attention snapping back towards the Macalister Fort. He'd been watching it from his post for a good few hours now, but it was only with barely an hour of daylight left to spare that there was so sign of activity.
As he watched, the giant gates creaked open, and the sa handso, an almost womanly man that he had seen earlier made his appearance. They'd thrown oil jars on the barricades before, and from the jars that those thirty-sothing n carried, they seed to be about to do the exact sa this ti.
"Hm? What's that?" Nila said from his side. She'd heard the commotion, and she'd co wandering over like a curious cat.
"The sa as earlier. This is the little ga we seem to be playing now, I suppose," Oliver said.
"A very silly little ga indeed," Nila agreed. "Do they not see the mountain of wooden shields that we've built up? They might run out of oil, but it seems unlikely that we'll ever run out of wood."
"It seems to that they're likely aiming for sothing else," Oliver guessed. "Even if it achieves little, to see the enemy fortifications burn must bring so amount of satisfaction."
"If you're right, then they're easily pleased, I expect," Nila said. "Besides, you've moved the guardsn forward, haven't you? Those barricades are well in their range. I wouldn't be surprised if they miss out on their task entirely."
"True enough," Oliver said. He'd figured that they would not co at all since his moving of the guardsn. He knew that they would be able to see the guarding soldiers from their posts on the wall. It seed a futile effort.
As they watched, the long-haired officer and his n walked casually into range, their oil jars sitting in their hands almost provocatively. They clearly wanted the soldiers to watch what they were doing, and given that Oliver's n were on break, that was exactly what they were doing.
A steady stream of them were gathering at the edge of the clearing, looking down from their hill and through the trees. More seed to be coming, unable to resist the commotion.
"Ah, action, my Lord?" Verdant said, joining them.
"Indeed," Oliver replied. "Or perhaps a lack of it."
The Macalister n were just about to co to a stop. The womanly man with his long black hair gave them a quiet whisper of an order. He stood still, ever so calmly, right on the edge of the archer's range.
"If he would walk forward by just a single hand, they'd get him…" Nila said, her voice tense with expectation."
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