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A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

A slow burning novel. There is a sense for greatness. Some people carry it around like a bad smell. They make us stop on the street, and look their way, whether we wish to or not. Their appearance might be ordinary, but there’s something about them, something beyond the norm. Something that makes you almost wish to bend the knee to them. Our kings have likely had that something, those that came from nothing but ashes and ruin, in times of trouble and famine, where the hearts of the masses are restless, and they need a cause to bind to. What makes them choose one man over another? It is my contention that there is a true gravity to such individuals. That progress, or competence, or greatness itself carries a weight. That a man might grow greater in the dark, and whether he wishes it or not, by the sheer gravity of his existence, tigers will make their way towards his door, catching his scent in the wind. The tigers hide themselves in the forests, in villages unknown, amongst the peasantry, but sooner or later, it does seem, that they are always cast into the light. It requires an immense effort of will to keep them hidden. A man of such a gravity will see themselves risen, without will, to ranks beyond that of the norm – in times of peace, they might rise high indeed. But in times of chaos? When the world is in upheaval, when every piece in up in the air? Then a tiger from the most lowly of starts, with a competency – a density – beyond belief, as if they were a different creature entirely – they might go all the way. They might be the creature that – though a peasant themselves – the peasantry themselves kneel to. They might go further, and make the soldiery kneel, and then even the nobles after them. And a special class, beyond all others, might go even further still, and snatch a crown the head of a king, on a flurry of brilliant victories, on a story so overwhelming it almost might have seemed preordained. It is those men that we ought to fear, and it those men that we will eternally be at the mercy of. It is those men that we do the honour of addressing as our kings, and our emperors.

Nick_Alderson · Fantastique
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The Shadows - Part 6

The goblin was already quivering as Beam entered its periphery. Its lack of attention only boosted Beam's misdirection style, and in the goblin's eyes, he was a massive shadow, glaring from above, three times the size of a normal human.

It squealed in dismay, as its body fell to the floor. Beam did his best to keep it all in one piece.

As it fell, he grabbed it by the arm and flung it further into the clearing, where he would have a better chance of protecting it, as he looked to cut down the rest of the goblin's party.

A spear came at him from the side. It was much harder to see in the dark of the trees than it was in the clearing. Beam barely dodged it, but his reaction was too slow to raise his sword. Instead, he lashed out with a fist, hitting it square in the nose, not doing much damage, but managing to stun it all the same.

That was all the opening he needed, and with an increasing amount of desperation, he cut through it, knowing just how much speed was of the essence.