A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

He tried to think back on what Khan had taught him, in the few sessions that they'd had together. Phalem had been recruited into the man's order only the year before last. He'd thought he would have more time learning under the great man, to learn all of his wise ways, and in his hubris, he'd put off a handful of teaching sessions that otherwise he should have attended.

As a man that was already a General, it was hard to reduce himself to the status of mere pupil, but the role of the teacher was something that Khan so readily adopted. He could see weakness in his subordinates, and if he could see potential beyond that weakness, he would try like a good-natured father to see the sons that he had recruited strengthened.

As he searched for an answer in the few lessons that Khan had shared with him, he came only to a single resounding condemnation. "The more strategic pieces we put on a board, the more chances we give our enemy to use them against us."

He'd illustrated the point quite eloquently, showing that when two armies were going at each other in a simple flat line, there was little opportunity for tactical innovation. Complexity had to be made, and attempts in various areas had to be carried out before they could be overturned. The existence of strategy allowed for even greater strategy. Complexity allowed for more complexity.

And it was that thudding proclamation that Phalem felt decimating his current placement.

"I refuse to believe it," he said. "For all my efforts, they cannot be useless. When I train with the sword, that same strength and effort is not used against me. I refuse to believe that the same is not true on the battlefield. For all our fortifications, and all the time we have put into planning the defence, we cannot be overcome so easily!"

And yet Khan's words continued to ring with truth. The more Phalem looked, the less he found. The very strength of his creation was the very strength that gave Karstly's position so much might. As much as he might have wished to refuse it, there was nothing he could do to deny that all his efforts had indeed been used against him.

"The frustration brews," Karstly noted. He needed not swing his sword anymore. There were enough men to take care of his foes for him. He flicked his blood from the blade, and he cast his eyes to the top of the mountain. "It will be your head next, General."

"There's nothing," Phalem realized, slamming his fist down on his strategy board. He'd begun the retrieval of the troops placed on the lower paths immediately – but he'd planned to redistribute themselves more carefully after the fact. Now he saw that there would be no redistribution.

There was only one sensible option left to them, and that was an all out retreat, all the way to the flat top of the mountain peak where Phalem himself stood. That was the only position that at least rendered them equal.

"Indeed… Indeed, we will only be equal," Phalem told himself. "I have not lost yet. If we are equal, then there is room for progress. One small blunder does not see the whole apple cart overturned. Equal still – and clever though the foe might be, he will not best my sword."

"Give the orders," he turned to his retainers. "Withdraw the last of our men to the mountaintop. Set up the barricades where we stand, and assume battle positions."

It would not be much in the way of a fortification, with only a measly few barricades to support their front rank, but it was better than making no preparations at all.

"We outnumber them," he reminded himself. That was all that he needed to know. He clenched his fist. "Not even equal. We still have the advantage. On equal footing, on the same plane, we stand above them still."

There was a glimmer of confidence in his eye now. He saw the first of his men begin to stream up the slope, beginning their preparations. There was more than enough space atop the flat top for all the thousands of them. "This will work," he said to himself again.

Their troops, for the most part, were comparatively rested, and the Stormfronters had looked exhausted since before they had assaulted the mountain. They would be even more exhausted now, Phalem was sure. This was a winning position still.

"It seems the enemy has been forced to make their choice," Verdant said.

"A single, final decisive charge to end things off," Oliver said. "Ought we not be apart from it, Captain Lombard? Our men are useless here on the lower slopes."

"We will advance at least to the point that we can receive further commands," Lombard said, making the decision quickly. "The enemy have already begun their retreat. There will not come a situation where we will find ourselves in accidental combat…"

He looked down on the wagons below. "I think that the few hundred men that Karstly left behind to protect them will see them sorted, Captain," Oliver said. "I do not think he truly expects an assault on them. It was more for the reassurance of the supply train, and the soldiers battling above, than it was for any real strategic reason."

"I am aware of that," Lombard said. "But our own standing here offers the same reassurance, and it gives more options. Nevertheless, I believe we will be more useful higher up, even if it is to come at a slight cost."

Oliver nodded his agreement, and soon enough, his officers were gathering their men. They'd had a good deal of time to rest. Though that rest had only consisted of having the opportunity to stand. Rather than rest, it might have been more appropriate to say that they'd managed to catch their breaths, for the exhaustion still sat with them, as well as the blood on the armour.

"Well, well," Karstly said. "I suppose we can send the rest of our men the long way around. Some of them are struggling with the handholds in this slick rock, after all."