A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The short amount of time that he'd already given himself before tending to his real duties was already pushing it, and with a degree of reluctance, and a certain difference in his eyes, he made his way back to camp.

He found even his vision to be changed by his want. He looked at each man as if they might hold the key, and at each horse. He saw profundity in all their actions, and he tried to add it to what he already knew, searching for ideas there that could evolve what had become stagnant.

He saw a man stretch his hand out to the side, balancing as he stooped to pick up a fallen package. He noted how the arm gave him extra balance – as mundane as it was – and he wondered if there were more extreme balance points that he could breach in combat by paying attention to such things. He wondered if it might give him access to new angles of attack, should he choose to pursue it.

Inevitably, the thread of thought that ran through each idea tended to be shallow. He would try to string them to the yarn ball of progress and knowledge that he'd already acquired, but for the most part, they would not stick. They did not add anything to what he already knew.

Still, there was a certain satisfaction in merely thinking about it that made him feel as if he was doing something worthwhile, even if from an outsider's perspective it might have seemed like mere self indulgence.

"A meeting has been called," Verdant told Oliver as he returned. "Karstly is gathering all his men, and he is gathering his leaders in particular. I fear we do not have enough time to prepare ourselves any further than that. The Blackthorns are already making their way over. If we do not hurry, we will be the last to arrive."

"Then gather the men," Oliver said, as he nodded to Lady Blackthorn, who he'd spied out of the corner of his eye. "And good morning to you, Lady Blackthorn."

"Gather my men, gather!" Karstly said. He'd found a mound in the centre of the mountain on which to stand on, and the man seemed to be in quite the excitable move. All pretense of the meek noble that he had first displayed to them was forgotten. What they saw now was the almost mad impulsive creature that described himself as a poet of the battlefield.

"Make room, stand in your ranks. Yes, let me see the lot of you," Karstly said. "Men of mine – hero men. Have you noted the magnitude of your achievement yet? Two battles, against two fearsome enemies, back to back, without a shred of rest – and here you stand, victorious!"

Karstly seemed even more excited about their victory than the men themselves. "You have done well for me," he told them. "Very well indeed. If you did not know it, then know it now. The victories that you have complied with will form the cornerstone of our invasion of the Verna. Lord Blackwell has his Battle board set just as he needs it.

We stand in the most perfect position to assist him."

He let them stew in his words, as he looked upon them with his animated eyes. In particular, he seemed to be eyeing the Captains and Colonels that he'd ordered to stand near the front of their forces. Through Samuel, he had ordered them to be stood as such, so that he might see them better.

"Very good," he said, nodding to himself. "Very good indeed. If you did not know it, then know it now already. You are the strongest army under Blackwell. You have proved that in surviving Khan. No one else had been blooded as you have.

You are veterans of this assault already. Rightly, after all you have achieved in a matter of two days, you should be sent home with enough bonus pay to see you fat. You should be given a hero's leave. Alas… As cruel as we Generals are, we still demand more from you – but not without recognizing that which you have already achieved."

Any man that listened in on Karstly could tell that he was scheming something, and only now that the top of recognition was brought up did they begin to have some idea as to quite what he was scheming.

"I plan to see those who have merited distinguished service rewarded, here and now," Karstly said. "Of course, I do not have the gold on hand to give each of you – but as soon as we make it back into Pendragon lands, you will be given what is yours. For now, we will proceed as if all the wealth is here and gathered already. Samuel, if you would."

"Very well, my Lord…" Samuel said, unfurling a scroll in front of himself, and bearing down on the list of names. "Before me, we have written the names of all who have snatched heads of significance. To the slaying of General Phalem, there goes General Karstly."

Karstly was positively beaming as he heard his name mentioned. In a dramatic gesture, as if surprised, he pointed at himself. "It was I?"

The soldiers were silent at the dramatic display. It seemed to be a performance reserved exclusively for Karstly himself – though one could say that he was certainly enjoying it. "What luck! What reward will I receive for such an achievement, Samuel?"

"The equivalent of a thousand gold pieces in treasure, from General Karstly's personal treasury," Samuel said, managing to keep his face straight.

"What luck!" Karstly said again. "I am a rich man – or at least, I remain rich."

His smile faded just as quickly as it had arrived. "There you see it," he said, suddenly adopting a serious manner once more. "For whatever heads you have gathered, and whatever achievements you might have worthy of recognition, you will be given a reward. A thousand gold pieces for a General's head will form our standard.

Two hundred and fifty gold pieces for the head of a Colonel or Rogue Commandant. Fifty gold pieces for the head of a Violet Commandant. And then the rewards for other achievements shall be distributed based on my discretion. It is rather simple, is it not?"