A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor
Ever since Beam’s family was killed, and he was sold into slavery, he’d been affected by a certain sensation in his chest. A dark gnawing. As if there was someone else inside his body, cackling at his struggles. Even as he wields his pickaxe deep within the slave mines, he feels the grip of another hand, trying to guide his own. Something dark, something ominous and powerful, wanted everything that he had left. He could feel its want. In the place of despair, he felt rage, and he resisted it. Years later, it still remains. He trains to try and silence it. Every day, for hours on end. In the pouring rain, and in the freezing snow. Naturally, after so many years, someone – or something, finds him in such a state. With the lightning flashing, he is discovered by a creature of vaguely human shape, but with a left arm so purple it looked like it should have been rotten to dust long ago. “If you’re going to do it, do it properly,” the monster sneers, slapping the stick out of Beam’s hand, and putting a sword in its place. “Swing it,” the creature commands. Only when he begins to train with the creature does Beam begin to notice changes. The voice is louder now – angrier. But there’s also something else along with it. A yearning to go with the gnawing. It’s a warm feeling, as if it was a woman’s hand on his shoulder. It stays with him, and only continues to grow in intensity. Two voices speak their mind, and they grow louder. With them, Beam’s desire to grow stronger grows– and finally, true progress begins to come his way, along with a strength that few can believe. Months pass, and once more, Beam’s world changes. The villagers that had once avoided him begin to show interest in the boy. There’s something mysterious about him, and something that seems to be almost incredible. That fact is sealed for them, when one day he turns up with the corpse of an impossibly strong Hobgoblin. He almost seems too big for the village. Tragedy occurs, and once more, Beam’s name is taken. The hands of the powerful look his way. They see strength, and they include it in their games. Under the guise of immense secrecy, his past is hidden away, and he is given a new name, that of Oliver Patrick, and he is given a new place amongst minor nobility. Join Beam - and later Oliver Patrick – as he fights against his fate, and claws his way up out of the mud that he was born into, and begins his war against the powerful men of the Stormfront.
The Price of Power - Part 2
And so Dominus continued to tease him. He grew ever more casual as he found different ways to call the peasant boy trash. Halfway through, he even began to enjoy it.
Beam endured these tests as best he could, but with the sheer amount of them, even he was beginning to grow impatient.
Swordplay, strength, endurance, strategy. He'd tested those rather thoroughly, from what Beam understood, and he'd thrown in more tests besides. Tests that he wasn't quite sure what they tested, like this cold water swim in the dark of morning.
"What are we doing this for?" Beam said again as he climbed underneath the waterfall beside Dominus, having to make a considerable effort to keep his voice level despite the roaring water and the cold force battering him.
"A test of worth," Dominus said again, his eyes closed as he sat cross-legged in meditation.
Beam sighed and went quiet, knowing that he'd likely not be getting another response now. He was growing used to the old man's habits. For now, he merely closed his eyes and crossed his legs like he'd seen Dominus do, and he drifted into the idle thoughts of his mind, trying to ignore the cold.
That didn't last particularly long either. After five minutes of sitting like that, his body could bear it no longer, and an overwhelming urge to get out hit him, one that he could no longer control.
He jumped back into the water and flailed ungracefully towards the shore, where he pulled himself out shivering and went in search of his clothes. "Damn it! It's so cold!" He shouted.
"Mmph," from his groan, Dominus sounded annoyed, as he blinked open his eyes owlishly, and used his one-good arm to somehow gracefully get back in the water and similarly swim the shore.
He cast Beam a sharp glance before he went in search of his clothes, making the boy flinch.
Now that he knew just what Dominus was capable of, Beam was feeling understandably cautious around him. To have invited his ire was something he would have rather avoided. Almost timidly, he made sure he was well out of Dominus' way.
And then Dominus spoke, as he slipped into a dry pair of his wide trousers and slid on his sandals. "Mm… As expected, your ability to endure discomfort for long periods of time stands out above everything else."
Beam's eyes shot open in surprise. He was sure he'd get another comment telling him how trash he was. Another dig into his already faltering pride. And instead, he'd gotten something that sounded suspiciously close to being a compliment.
"Don't get me wrong, you're still trash though," Dominus added, and Bream's shoulders slumped. "So far, there's been absolutely nothing you're good at. Your strength is average, maybe slightly above average for your age. Your endurance is the same. Your speed too. They're all slightly above what the average is for your age, but in the wider scope of the world, they're trash. All of it. Not to mention your martial skill. It's none existent."
"I'm faster than all the other kids though, and stronger too," Beam murmured. "But why are you testing me like this? How does this test the curse that you were talking about?"
Dominus shrugged. "I'm merely weighing up how much worth there is in keeping you alive – and so far there isn't much."
Beam shuddered, as he was once again reminded just how close to death he was. In a single blink, whenever he decided to, Dominus could cut him down.
"C'mon then, let's head back and get on with the rest of the day. There are many more tests to be had," Dominus said.
The sun was coming up over the horizon. The start of another long day.
Beam enjoyed the quiet walk back – a chance to finally rest his mind from the relentless tests. But before he could relax too much, they arrived back at Dominus' hut. A small shelter, with dry thatch for a roof, mud walls, and a stone circle fire pit out front. There was barely enough room for one bed, so Beam had been made to sleep outside the past two nights that he'd stayed there. He was lucky that it had not yet rained. But the skies today did not look so forgiving.
"Go on then, the same as yesterday," Dominus said, gesturing toward a mound of stones that lay a little ways away from where the house stood.
"Again?" Bream asked. His body was still ice cold from the river. His legs had only just begun to warm up from their short walk, but he felt that if he were to exert them fully with how cold they were, something would be liable to snap.
"Yes, again," Dominus said impatiently, "chop chop. You're under my command, are you not? Do as your senior tells you."
He said all this as lowered himself back onto his bed of spring reeds and animal furs, reaching for some dried wood with which to revive the fire from its embers. "I'll make you some tea if you do well," he said. But he'd said that the day before too. And Beam hadn't done well the day before. Not by Dominus' standards.
"Alright…" He dragged himself over to where the stones were. Just in front of that mound of mountain rubble were the stones that they were using. Five stones of incrementally larger size and weight. The smallest of which was about the size of Beam's head, and the largest of which was the size of his torso. He had only previously managed to lift all the stones up to the middle stone, which was about half the size of his torso.
He began lifting the smallest of the five. Scooping it up to his knees, letting it rest there a moment as he regained his posture, then lifting it up onto his chest, as though he were attempting to put it on a platform that was about as high up as his neck. But since there was no platform there, he simply let it drop.