A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Up ahead, they saw two shadows, one taller than the other. And beyond that, amidst the moonlight, there danced two figures, engaged in a vicious battle.

The crow let out a victory cry as they grew nearer and sped into the sky, escaping. Greeves reached to slash it with his knife, but the bird was long gone, apparently having achieved its objective.

"Well, this is fucking ominous," Greeves muttered to himself. But since they were here anyway, he dared to approach those figures. There was nothing to fear regardless, not when Judas was by his side – there wasn't a man for miles around that could best him. Apparently sensing that there was danger in the air, Judas unhooked his axe from his hip and carried it low by his side.

As they neared, the two figures turned, showering them in animosity.

The smaller of the figures took a step back, hiding behind the first, in his straw hat.

"Merchant…" Came an irritated whisper. "To think you'd come as well."

"And who might you be?" Greeves asked as he neared. Then he noticed a flash of red hair behind the figure, as he stood there menacingly. "Ah, who's that? That's pretty little Nila, isn't it? Well, good evening to you, sweetheart. Whatcha doing out here this late at night?

Taking a stroll? Mm?" It was only then that he could make out the figures doing battle a short distance away. The first thing he noticed was the sword – what was once his merchandise. Then he noticed a boy, then he noticed a monstrous Hobgoblin.

"From the look on your face, now you understand. If you're here, you'll stand there quietly. Distract the boy and I will kill you both," the man said threateningly.

Judas stepped forward, his axe in hand. "Watch how you speak to the boss, old man," he warned.

But there was a flash and the axe head fell to the floor, having been severed from the shaft. Judas stared at the wooden handle that he was left gripping dumbly, wondering where his weapon had gone.

"Another word and that will be your head," the man warned. "I do not have the time to be dealing with you. There are far more important things at stake."

Greeves flinched, seeing the overwhelming display of strength. Judas bristled as though angered, about to attack, but Greeves held his hand up. "Now, now, Judas. There's no need to start a fight. As it happens, I have just as much interest in what's going on over there as everyone else. There's a lot of money riding on it, after all."

Nila shot him a furious glare at his words, but Dominus put a firm hand on her head to stop her from speaking and merely pointed to the battle that was unfolding a distance away.

Beam stood, without even the strength to hold up his sword point anymore. His breathing came in ragged breaths. He was already covered in blood. None of the wounds were especially deep, but they were draining.

The Hobgoblin ran forward again, wielding its sharp greatsword, making full use of its vicious reach. Beam just barely managed to dodge, feeling the full weight of his lack of speed in that moment. But even after he dodged, the creature barrelled into him with his shoulder, sending him flying.

"Gods… He's hopelessly outmatched," Greeves muttered in alarm. "Well, at least I'm here to collect my sword back, I suppose."

"Merchant…" Dominus said icily, his tone exasperated. From that distance, Beam couldn't hear what they were saying, nor had he even noticed that they had arrived.

He pushed himself back to his feet, his breathing growing worse by the second as the Hobgoblin refused to let the attack up. It moved with a restless anger, an infinite energy. All it wanted to do was tear him to pieces, by whatever means necessary.

Once more, it sent him flying, this time with a kick. Beam bounced off the ground as he flew through the air, just barely managed to stay clinging to his sword.

"This isn't good…" Nila murmured, her voice cracking. "Are you really going to leave him like this?"

Dominus frowned, a troubled look on his face. "I swore I wouldn't interfere… I will keep my word."

Beam grunted as he shifted out of the way, barely dodging the sword of the Hobgoblin as it swung at him. It slammed into the ground, causing a tremor.

Fear permeated every cell in his body. His whole being screamed out in fear of the impending death. Pain wracked his leg, as he forced it far beyond what he was currently capable of, in a desperate bid to stay alive.

They'd been at it for five minutes already, a desperate struggle, far longer than any such intense fight was want to go on for – especially when one side was so dominant.

But, surprising even himself, Beam was holding on. He lacked his strength; he lacked his speed and yet, somehow, even as blow after blow clattered into his body and blood poured from his busted lip and swollen eye, he still managed to defend.

In that sea of fear, in that atmosphere of overwhelming pressure, he felt the same floating darkness of void as he had in the river. Well, not quite the same – but there was a similarity to it. His fear came tainted with a heavy nostalgia that seemed to slow time itself, as though this here, these moments so close to death, as though he'd been here before.

And in truth, he had, though he hadn't felt it with his previous encounters with the other Hobgoblins. Perhaps, because some part of his being still had clung to hope then – a hope that Dominus would arrive and save his life the moment it became clear that he could not win.

Now there was nothing like that. There was no salvation. There were only red eyes, bulging green muscles and a massive swinging blade. The creature sought to split him in two this time. Beam eyed it carefully through his uninjured eye. It seemed slower than before – only slightly though.

Perhaps the Hobgoblin was tiring, or perhaps Beam was finally growing accustomed to movements.