"Why indeed…" Fitzer said, sparing the dazed Oliver Patrick another look. His gaze must have hovered for just a moment too long, for Oliver's head turned lifelessly to look at him. Ghostly phantom eyes. Chilling enough that Fitzer did not wish to linger in them for too long.
A horn blew from the other side of the battlefield. Tiberius sent the officers of the High King's forces scampering back to take their positions. Those men were rigid for different reasons, and highly motivated. Not for a want for victory, but for the sake of fleeing from the terror that they felt. They fought, because no enemy in front of them could be as terrifying as the Emperor behind them.
And as Oliver drifted deeper into himself, the first dispatchment of soldiers were set to charging. Three thousand of the High King's infantry, charging towards Hod's centre. Hod gave the command, and brought his archers to the front, peppering them as they came.
