A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Cormrant sighed, but managed to keep himself from saying anything that might have gotten his head separated from his shoulders. Lady Blackthorn was looking at him with the same sort of intensity as Verdant – it seemed a veritable attack on two sides. Seeing this, Rofus laughed. "Haha! Looks like you're the bad guy now, Sergeant Cormrant," Rofus said. "I suppose that makes you and me the same rank now?" He did a little hop, and thoroughly enjoyed himself in rubbing it in. Without a second thought, Cormrant sent a solid armoured fist clattering towards the sides of Rofus' face. Even from a soldier of ordinary strength such as himself, that was a strike that threatened to break bones. The other Sergeant dodged it long before it came to that, though. He danced nimbly out of range, laughing all the while. "Men!" Verdant thundered. "Such indignities will not be tolerated in front of you Commander. Forward – now. We have ridden a distance, and much needs to be assessed. Do not keep us waiting." Cormrant and Rofus shared warring looks, but they did no more than that. They seemed to be sensible enough to listen to the Idris man, at least, for soon enough they were leading Oliver and his party deeper into the forest, leaving Amberlain and Gamrod behind to continue guarding the perimeter. "That was troublesome," Verdant murmured, now that the old Vice-Commander was walking a distance ahead of them. "If this is the sign of things to come… I fear for it. Do they not have the sense to show you the proper amount of respect, after all you did the last you saw them?" Oliver shrugged. "I think Cormrant has always had a particular distaste for me – but he's loyal enough, from what I've seen, so I cannot fault him too heartily." "Insolent man," Lasha said – a rare harsh set of words from her. It was a good walk through the trees before they arrived at anything resembling a camp. The trees were thick here, and pine. No doubt that was one of the reasons that Skullic had chosen it for its location. There were plenty of other forests around, though many of them had lost their leaves for the winter, making them considerably easier to see through. These pine trees did not suffer from that problem. Tents had already been set up, and fires had been made, though they were careful fires, with ventilation holes dug around them, allowing the wood to burn as smokelessly as possible. Even then, they'd been positioned so that they would filter up through the branches of the larger trees, hopefully dispersing whatever remnants of the smoke might have been left. Oliver had never tried doing such things before, but he assumed from the fact that the camp was still standing that they must have been effective enough in concealing the stealth of the men. Being winter as it was, after all, it would have been difficult to go without fire. Here, they were met with a greeting that was far more to Verdant's liking. The second their horses climbed the last of the small hills, putting them in view of the camp, the men inside began to stir. They pointed fingers, and nudged the soldiers of busier men, spreading the word, and soon enough assembling a group. Northman's voice rang out loud and clear above the hustle and bustle. "Form up!" He shouted, that command cracking like a whip. By the time Oliver and his group bridged the edge of the clearing, Skullic's men were in a perfect square formation, standing to the straightest of attentions, not a single man out of place. In that regard, it was only Northman that stood out. He did not have a place amongst the common men, and so he stood at the front, in perfect centre. It almost seemed as though he was making a point, that these were his men to lead. But as Oliver drew even closer still, the man dropped to one knee, and put his fist inside his open palm with the most respectful salute that he could give – a symbol of subservience. Behind him, all the men scramble to do the same. Cormrant and Rofus – who'd been leading them – got to the ground in the same position, giving the same salute, though Cormrant didn't look at all happy about it. From their position atop their horses, the three newcomers evaluated them. Oliver had seen them before, so he'd known what to expect. He took Northman's display with a grateful nod – it made his job easier, after all. Verdant and Blackthorn seemed harder to please, as they studied the group for far longer, but eventually, both of them seemed to give their nods of approval as well. "Ser Patrick – we've received word," Northman said, speaking ceremoniously, as though he'd only just heard the news. "We're to have the honour of having you lead us. Our General Skullic puts us in your hands. We are yours, to do with as you please." "Indeed," Oliver said. "There's a hard battle ahead of us, but we've fought together before and overcome a difficulty – I would see that we do the same again." "We hope the same," Northman said, still speaking formally from his position on the ground. "The men are restless. Do you have orders for us?" "I do," Oliver said. "Temporary ones, whilst I reevaluate what we have. For now, I wish to assure the men that the command structures shall remain the same. Northman, you shall continue to lead your men as their field Commander. Cormrant, once more, shall serve as your Vice." That news seemed to surprise Cormrant more than anyone else. "And where does that place you, Ser Patrick? By what rank should we call you?" Northman asked, clearly confused. "Whatever you wish," Oliver said. "Field Commander, Captain – I care not. I shall simply be in charge of our overall battle plans. You shall remain in charge of your own men."