A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Another pair detached themselves from the darkness. These two – two that could not have been more unalike – had a different aura to the rest. Jok could sense it about them. Their position was higher, they commanded respect.

One stood at each of Beam's shoulders, just half a step behind him, respectfully, orderly, instinctually. You would have thought they'd practised it.

A middle-aged man with a dangerous look in his eyes. The second Jok glanced at him, he could feel the evil that dwelled inside, the despicable things that man had done. Immediately, he knew that it was that man behind those earlier snowball attempts, those earlier bits of control that he'd seen amidst the chaos.

Then… a girl, as young as the boy, with hair like a fox, a reddish brown, and a strong look in her eyes. From the bow slung over her shoulder, Jok guessed she was the archer. Competence and position went hand in hand, after all.

Seeing them like that, he had to shake his head. His giant palm reached up to cover his face, as he struggled to stifle a laugh. "Skifir ger morm…" he murmured to himself. 'The strong rise to the top.' He'd heard that phrase repeated many times throughout his life, but never did he think he'd witness it so strongly, in such a short amount of time.
Explore stories on m,v l'e-m|p y r

'So this is it then,' he thought to himself. 'Again there's been change, and now the boy adopts the role of the leader.' With his hand on his face, he thought it all through. It made his heart tremble to witness – this boy, he terrified him.

"So this is what those old bastards thought looking at me, did they?" Jok said aloud, his gaze still locked on the boy. Many of his elders had looked at him with an emotion approaching fear as Jok grew stronger at a rapid pace. Strength was largely celebrated amongst the Yarmdon, but there were still those that feared his abilities, and attempted to suppress him.

Had it not been for Gorm, then he would have had a considerably rougher road.

With that thought, it finally fell into place for Jok. This boy was no different to he, as he strove for competence, for new ability. Of course, his differences, his abilities, they were unknown to Jok – but that did not change the fact that they were the same at heart. They were merely seeking strength, and their actions, they were all the result of that.

When put as such, Jok could finally accept it. His weary heart forced such a decision on him, for the changes of the battlefield had been so extreme that he could do no different. He'd been caught inside the boy's whirlpool of growth, just as other great men had been caught inside of Jok's, and subsequently fallen.

"But that's over now," Jok decided, facing off against him. "My hundred and fifty –no… hundred and forty – against your rabble of three hundred. Do you think you stand a chance? They say a Yarmdon is worth at least three Stormfront soldiers, and you merely bring to me villagers. Do you think that in abandoning your shadows and the element of surprise that you'll still stand a chance?"

His words grew increasingly more heated as he spoke them, the anger threatening to rise to his eyes. As he spoke, his own thoughts on the matter fell into place. The difference between the two armies from the start had always been clear. It was always mere chaos that gave the Stormfront a chance. Facing off against each other like this, there was only one clear outcome by his eyes.

"Fool," he mouthed the words with a smile. Beam had stayed silent throughout Jok's entire speech, for he understood not a word of the Northern tongue. But from how Jok spoke that single word, Beam could guess what it meant. The boy couldn't help smiling.

It was a smile of innocence now, an unnerving smile, from a man who'd completely reconciled all that he was. It was more similar to a monk's smile, than to a child's. Again, Jok felt a chill. It was like the people they were facing off against weren't even human – those villagers, they were quiet too, like an army of ghouls.

Jok bashed his sword against his shield and called out a challenge to them. "TAKE IT IF YOU CAN – THIS HEAD THAT YOU'VE ALL BEEN COVETING. I'LL HELP YOU ON YOUR WAY TO HELL!"

With that, Beam gave his first order, a single, simple word, for now that they'd worked through the sea of complexities, this was due to be a simple battle.

"They're weak. Crush them," he said.

Simple, ever so simple. Those words, had he spoken them earlier, to the same villagers, in the same way as he was, they would have had no effect. But he was not the same person, and they were not the same villagers. They were one body now, one mind, as unified as any group of people could ever possibly hope to be. They responded with the same vigour as a limb would, commanded by the mind.

Without doubt, without hesitation, ordinary people, who were not soldiers, they charged with unwavering hearts.

They streamed in front of Beam, for he had yet to move. That was a leader's place – to only move when he needed to, for he was the centre of the circle.

They ran hard into that wooden shield wall of the Yarmdon, a structure that at its best was nearly as solid as a house.

THUD

A great quaking shake ran through it. Jok's eyes widened in alarm, as he saw his men take a step back.

"What manner of—" He began to curse, even an army of Yarmdon would struggle to shift a rooted shield wall. For it to collapse like this, off a single charge, with no other forces at play, it would have been a virtual impossibility.

And, it didn't collapse.

But Jok felt it come perilously close. His wooden wall felt more like a shield of glass, and he could see the cracks running through it. He grit his teeth. He felt that Shield Square as if it was his own body. Only when he noted the shift in momentum did he manage a maniac smile, as his eyes were wide and bloodshot.

"GOT IT!" He roared.

The men stepped out – a practised tactic. They'd lured the enemy in with a single step, weakening them, and now as they stepped back in, they did so with all the force of thunder. Axes, swords and spears reigned down. Men and women were slaughtered so quickly even the Dark Gods might have felt sick.

"I'VE BEEN LEADING MEN FAR LONGER THAN YOU BOY!" Jok roared. "I'LL TAKE THIS VICTORY, AND YOUR HEAD WITH IT, THE GODS HAVE NOT ABANDONED ME YET!"