Gradually, bit by bit, battle after battle, every Patrick man had found his place. They worked together as a single tool, capable of solving any problem that Oliver threw at them. Through his Commanders, he accessed the minds of his n.
If there were enemies of cunning, Oliver would send Jorah out first and have him set the battlefield's pace. If they were enemies of strength, or enemies that seed likely to cower, he would send Firyr. And if there were enemies where Oliver himself needed to be on the frontline to exert himself, he would have Verdant take command.
The only current missing piece in that puzzle were the new cavalryn, and their Commander Yorick. He was very much the model of a Serving Class man, humble and mild-mannered, hiding his true emotions behind a mask. His years put him in his mid-thirties, but his face still retained the softness of youth.
There was still too much unknown about him. The man's lack of reactivity made probing him even harder. Even when t with the strangeness of the Patricks, he hardly faltered in his steadfast politeness, and rely continued to present himself consistently.
Yorick glanced back over his shoulder, sensing Oliver's gaze on him. The two locked eyes for a second, before Yorick dipped his head, and returned his eyes to the floor.
Soon enough, they heard the clomping of hooves, as Verdant led Blackthorn's horseback by the reins, with a hundred bloodthirsty Blackthorn n trailing behind them.
Oliver's smile widened seeing them. 'Of course, there are the Blackthorn n too that we need to get to know.' It didn't take an adept military eye to see that those n would be of so significant use.
"I am late, apologies," Lasha announced.
"If you hadn't said it like that, I might have accepted your apology," Oliver replied. "Are you ready?"
"I am," Lasha said.
"Have you collected everything that you need to?" Oliver pressed. He directed the question not to Lady Blackthorn, but to her two female retainers that had rushed along after her.
"Our supplies are in order," Alia said, a little breathlessly. Even she seed to be able to get serious when the situation demanded it, and the position they were in was nothing if not of the most grave seriousness.
Oliver grunted. That would be the hardest part about this plan. The supplies that they brought with them. If anything, it seed to be a fatal flaw. They would make for good targets of weakness as they attempted to flee from the enemy. But General Karstly had expressed no concern about them.
Oliver hoped that he had a good plan.
"And our supplies are in order too, my Lord," Verdant said, his eyes betraying a glint of understanding, as if he saw through Oliver's concerns. "It will be enough to keep us supplied for a month, with what we currently have. I do not imagine Lord Blackwell we need to take advantage of our position for much longer than that – he will surely be able to grasp the rewards far sooner."
"Indeed," Oliver responded, though he was not yet convinced. The weaknesses of a supply train – to think that he would have to deal with it already, with his very first battle. "Then, if we are ready, all units shall depart."
He hefted himself up on his horse, and made a motion with his hand. The Blackthorn n moved to overtake him, but Lady Blackthorn herself remained rigidly still. She was accustod to following along behind Oliver. She made no intentions of changing that custom obvious. The n were forced to gnash their teeth, and wait behind their mistress.
Theirs were not the only force yet preparing to leave. All the units belonging to Lord Karstly were heading south of the castle in preparation for departure. More than a few thousand were gathered there already, along with their supply carts.
"Interesting," Verdant said, evaluating them from a distance.
"You've noticed sothing?" Oliver pressed.
"All the carts and carriages are drawn by horse," Verdant said.
"Ah," Oliver's mind flashed with imdiate understanding. "They've switched out the oxen and the mules, then…"
On the way here, those carts had been drawn by all manner of beasts, but now it was only horses that they could see. Oliver felt no small asure of relief in acknowledging that.
"Indeed. It seems that General Karstly has already begun to elevate the problem that we were so worried about," Verdant said.
Oliver nodded. Well-balanced horse-drawn carriages would prove far more malleable in a field of intense battle. They'd be just as fast, if not faster than the infantry. As long as they were kept protected, there would be no danger of them falling behind.
Now that he was looking, Oliver saw too that there were likely more carts and carriages than they ought to have for the amount of supplies that they were taking. That again seed to show General Karstly's intentions of keeping his supply carts light and keeping them fast.
"I suppose this is one of the benefits of being in an army so large," Verdant comnted. "No doubt it was Lord Blackwell's remaining n that he was able to swag steeds with, and procure more carriages from."
"True enough. Given the magnitude of our task, I imagine Lord Blackwell has been more than accommodating in any wants that Lord Karstly had," Oliver replied.
As they drew up closer to the gathering of n, a pair of soldiers on horseback ca out to greet them. "Ser Patrick! Lord Idris! Lady Blackthorn!" They said, saluting. Their eyes were on the high-ranking nobles for but a second, before they drifted towards the supply units behind them and began evaluating them, revealing their true intentions.
"We have been tasked by Lord Karstly with ensuring that your supply wagons are fit for speed and battle," one of the soldiers explained as his partner continued to carry out his duty. "I see that all your wagons are drawn by horses. That is good. Are any more overburdened than you would like?"
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