A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 2093: The King’s First Foray - Part 4

They might have sat hunched, and half-crippled, but now in their saddles they were considerably straighter. The stern words of King Patrick evoked an easy belief in them, and a sense of readiness. Edward knew it to be Command, though he could not sense it. It was the capacity of a man who had lived the life that Oliver Patrick had. Who had overcome the battles that he had, and allowed his men time and again to bear witness to the magic that he had brought down. It was a man that it was impossible not to trust.

"This will be the first venture that we make as the Winged Unit," King Patrick said. "Understand the expectations I have for you. Lord Blackthorn holds the East, Minister Hod holds the South – but it you two thousand who shall win this war for us. You are tired. Become used to that tiredness. This is barely the start. We will strike fear into the realm. We will fly wherever our enemy presents the slightest scent of weakness, and we will attack. Right here, soldiers of the Winged Unit, is the first victory of hundreds. Through you two thousand, we shall conquer the Stormfront."

Those eyes – all could tell that he meant it. From the way he carried himself, with the crown perched on one side of his head, he seemed a slapdash man. But that iron certainty, that stared them down from the back of his monstrous white horse, none could have argued against it then. For two thousand men to hold the weight of a war in their hands, was it possible? None could doubt that it was. They made not a sound, but only a fool would not have been able to see those men stirring.

When Oliver Patrick turned around, one could already see it. The slightest spark began to smolder in two thousand men. In the way they stole glances at each other. In the way their jaws tightened. In the way they gripped their reins, and their eyes widened.

Like Claudia herself, King Patrick pushed them towards their better selves.

He led them out of the forest at a trot. The instant they left it, they knew themselves to be in Wyndon territory, so close to the border had they made camp. Here, hills were plentiful. The land was green in large part, devoid of the remnants of snow. Long grasses were plentiful, and the outcrops of many trees were too.

An army could not have moved through there too quietly without being seen by a scout, but for a unit of two thousand men, moving as swiftly as King Patrick would have them do, one could get a surprising distance into Wyndon territory without being seen.

There was a building sense of excitement. Edward felt like a tiger hiding in the long grass. They ambled their way through hills that fell down into valleys, knowing themselves to be well hidden, and knowing that they were only a short distance from their target.

Who would expect it? When all that had been said in the Emerson Capital, how swiftly could Lord Blake move to raise the armies of the scale that they feared? Who would dare to expect that, rather than waiting, Oliver Patrick would attack? Perhaps they might anticipate a full on march towards the Capital, but with what army, when both Minister Hod and General Blackthorn were seen guarding their borders?

With a mere two thousand men, Oliver Patrick was set to cause a stir. The excitement built up in a great fire. The dust of the exhaustion evaporated. As the hills began to thin, a wordless command was given by King Patrick, in the form of the pressing of his heels to Nelson’s side.

Faster, he told both his army and his mount. The white monstrosity that was Nelson lurched forward. Not quite an all out gallop yet, but his strides were long and fast, setting an impressive pace for the rest of those horses to keep up with.

An army of two thousand cavalry, all rushing at such a speed over the countryside. Edward’s heart was in his mouth. The thrill of it! The wind rushing through his hair beneath his helmet. His surcoat flapping. The sound of the beating hooves of all the men. What a feeling of power, what a feeling of grandness! They were all King Patrick’s blade now, they were all brought to slashing, in the way that his sword was in the middle of that forest.

Even the horses seemed affected by the spirit of the thing. The will for more, that startling will of Progress. Edward could practically see his Goddess right there, as a river of purple light, flowing through all of them, pushing them towards unheard of heights. They were all animated by the same spirit. Man and beast, that was King Patrick’s intention – he would see them all sharpened.

They burst out into the open, descending upon the plains once the hill ran out. These were plains that Durem Fort governed, and bore watch over, a mere ten miles from the border. A handsome garrison of a thousand men it was said to hold in times of war, though it was capable of holding upwards of ten thousand if necessary.

Four towards it had, and a set of heavy gates. Both a town and a fort. The very reason that King Patrick had targeted it. He’d poured over his maps, with Lady Nila at his side. Edward had watched the process, the instant that he had selected his target. The way he had looked at the woman he loved, almost mischievously. The look of a man that had come up with a reckless idea, and would bet his life on it.

They pounded over the plains. The heavy gates were open, allowing a constant stream of traffic from the outside world. Now that winter was over, trade would pick up again. They needed to make up for the quiet few months that they had spent holed up against the chilling snow.

A distance of a short two kilometres was all they needed to cover. The fort grew larger and larger the closer they came. Almost certainly, men atop the wall could see them, but those heavy gates did not show any signs of closing.