A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The Emperor swelled with glee. A complicated foe was what he'd found, and still, he'd managed to reduce him. Even before he had received his Blessing from Pandora, it was his intelligence that Tiberius had wielded like a blade, cutting through men far his elder. When Pandora could not see him all the way through, he still had that to cut with, another weapon that he might fight with.

A contradictory command. They were the most exciting to give. To retreat in order to go forward. Navigating through that chaos – that was Tiberius' privilege. Now, even a fool could see the wisdom in it. Those deflated men that he faced, so quiet and robbed of their morale, even if they now were neatly arranged in squares of thousand man battalions, with their archers at the back, and then spearmen and infantry at the front, and even some cavalry waiting off to the side. Like a battle board formation. It was about what one would expect from the Minister of Logic. Tiberius had no doubt that he was a terrifying figure when it came to strategy, but he lacked the heart of true battlefield command. He could not inspire his men, and make both strategy and spirit one. He was no General in the end, just a strategist.

And the man that Tiberius had most wished to harm with his manoeuvre was the man next to Hod, swaying in his saddle. Prince Hendrick and Fitzer looked at him oddly, noticing his pale palour, and the unfocused look in his eyes. Tiberius' smile grew wide and terrifying. Those new officers that he had to deal with balwarked to see that look on his face. He'd gathered up five Colonels to report to him, and now not a single one dared speak, as the Emperor delighted in the torment that he'd inflicted on his foe.

"Gods, is it not interesting?" Tiberius said. "What it takes to break a human heart? One might think, it would have been enough to kill those closest to him. Tssk, tskkk. In giving him a greater problem to solve, I almost allowed him something to escape towards. Another General, and that problem would have seen him crushed, but this creature… Yes, yes, he runs towards that problem as if it were a life raft. And now without it, look how broken he is."

"Minister," Fitzer spoke, given that Oliver had not yet yielded a reply. "Our Commanding General…"

"Has lost today more than you or I can imagine," Hod finished abruptly. "Forgive him if he is not his usual, attentive self. I would say, we have asked enough of him already, in seeing us through the survival of that encirclement, have we not? We can tend to the rest ourselves."

"...Quite right," Hendrick supposed, though his voice did not seem full of confidence. It was benevolence that moved him forward, and made him clear his throat, excluding Oliver from his hopes. "Yes, General Patrick has seen us through the worst of it. The rest, indeed, we ought to be able to take care of ourselves. What say you, Fitzer? Minister Hod? How are we to best this foe?"

"I propose we make a steady retreat, back to one of the fortresses," Fitzer said. At least then, we have something solid out our backs, and remove the possibility of once more being encircled."

"He'll cut us off the second we take a step back," Hod said, rebuking him. "His strongest piece is in those heavy cavalry that we command. Showing our backs and offering our flanks to that which he enjoys manoeuvring most, that would be to ask for defeat."

Fitzer blushed, in being sliced through so harshly. "...Very well, Minister. What do you propose?"

"The same thing that I would propose against any foe of Tiberius' level. A reactive strategy. One can not have a predetermined plan from the start, when our formations are still so neutral. We will feel him out, cautiously, and we will endeavour not to take a step back," Hod said. "In other words, we go slowly, we do not over commit, and we look for an opportunity to prey upon his weakness."

"...Doesn't sound that reassuring to me, Minister," Fitzer said. "Playing our men reactively against the likes of that? Tiberius will make a mess of us."

Hod acknowledged that grimly. "You are likely right."

"Then… our prospects of victory are still as dismal as they were before?" Hendrick asked, bravely enough.

"They are," Hod said bluntly.

Fitzer twisted his face. "Bloody hell. A bit of hope would be nice. The men have got to feeling as if they've accomplished something, and they've loosened up. If they're hit with a harsh charge now, they'll shatter."

"Then you begin to see the problem," Hod said. "Take position on the right wing, Fitzer. Verdant Idris will command the left."

"How capable is he?" Fitzer asked. "I hadn't heard of the Idris heir being promoted."

"Capable enough. You should know to rely on those Patrick Commanders," Hod said. "They're about the only hope we have of keeping our morale in check."

Fitzer looked along their ranks. Already, Hod had seen the officers that Oliver valued so highly well split up amongst the army. He wondered why it was that he didn't have difficulty finding them. Only some of them carried high those Patrick banners, yet even those without them seemed to draw the eye.

He squinted, and after a few moments, he realized it. They were the only creatures on the battlefield – those Patrick men – who did not seem to have given up. It was such a contrast to the half-shattered men around them that one could not help but pick up on it.

"They've kept themselves strong, throughout all this," Fitzer remarked. "Good soldiers, they are. A strong sense of belief. I ought stir up the same in my own men… but I lack the conviction, they'd see through me, knowing the state of my own heart in this. Such is the double-edged nature of Command. Your men, at times, see your heart better than you yourself."

"Then why is it that those Patrick men remain so firm?" Hendrick asked, his question already making Fitzer frown.