There he left the shadow of a creature far mightier than he, evident only for mere fractions of a moment at a time, and so easy to miss. But when a wound was indeed dealt to Germanicus, it fell by that creature's hand, not by Oliver Patrick's alone.
Germanicus found himself pressed up, still in his sea of corpses, and his men were faring no better. All that filled his ears were the cheers of those Patrick men. He'd been confident that none could match the savagery of his native Treeant comrades, and he'd always held to the certainty that, if the Treeant faction were ever pushed to a point where they were forced into rebellion, they would have no trouble taking over the realm.
