A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

She pushed her feet to the sides of her horse, and drove it forward. She didn't want to be left along amongst the tents. She could almost see ghosts wandering from open doors, towards the fortress. It was a haunting place, and it had been made that in a matter of minutes since Tiberus' arrival. She didn't want to remain there. She shook her head, and tossed away the doubts, and pounded forward.

"Your Majesty!" Lancelot called after her. "Please wait! You mustn't ride so close to the site of battle!"

Queen Asabel had no reply. She didn't intend to go quite as far as the frontlines, but she still wanted to be there, just behind the wall of men, where the squares of infantry had just begun to form. Already, the archers were seeing their bows quickly strung, and quivers were being tossed down on the ground in front of them. The cavalry were set up just behind, as a warning to any quick charges from Tiberius, and as a protection for the gentler slope that ran as an option instead of the steeper slope that a head on charge would place Tiberius' men at.

For all their movement, all their franticness, and all that they'd managed to achieve in such a short amount of time, somehow, it did seem to Queen Asabel, that Tiberius held the upper hand. From how languidly he did approach the battlefield, it seemed as if he was declaring that he could have charged them a good while ago if he wanted to. That he could easily have surprised them if that was his intention. The fact that he hadn't was… Well, what indeed was it? Was he simply declaring that he didn't need any petty tricks to deal with them? That did seem to match the thinking of the man in front of Queen Asabel more than anything else.

The men were stiff in their movements. They were beginning to feel that suffocating feeling in the same way that Asabel was. The creature that was called Tiberius loomed far too large. He was like the monster of his sigil. He had far too many eyes. He saw far too much, and far too far ahead. He held them all in place, with a presence that only the Wyndons seemed to know how to properly deal with. His place, eternally, ought to have been in that palace prison that they'd built for him. Imprisoned could be the only place for such a monster – not the sunlit grounds of the open world. His capacity for destruction was far too immense for that.

The men noted Queen Asabel's arrival. How could they not, with Lancelot's shouting? She drew up a short distance behind them, just far away enough that she was not likely to be told off by Lord Blackwell. And indeed, General Blackwell did spare her a harsh look of his eye as well, from his position by the front, but otherwise, he said nothing.

The soldiers looked over their shoulder, sharing murmurs. That was enough to make Asabel feel as if she ought to sit more regally. When there was a duty to be carried out, she could be strong, no matter the situation. That was the power of the crown that she wore, as well as the burden of it. She straightened herself. Not as Queen Asabel, for she doubted herself whenever she wore that title. But as the Pendragon Queen. As the heir to that ancient lineage. It was truly that lineage alone that gave her the pride. The proud House that had borne Arthur, and had stood strong since the time of the First King. That was the image that the men responded to, and that was the fiery strength that saw them thawed, loosened, and inspired.

"A false Emperor," Queen Asabel said loudly. "The men of the Stormfront know how to deal with such creatures."

She said it not to invoke cries, nor even really to do anything, other than to still her rapidly beating heart. She merely spoke simply because it was the most natural thing to do. And so, when those cries did come, none was more surprised than she.

As if those men were a tinder bundle, the small spark offered by her words set them all to ignition. They glowed with fiery passion, and they bellowed at that terrifying monster that was Tiberius from across the battlefield. General Blackwell acknowledged it with a raged eyebrow, before he too joined in. He'd already surrendered to Arthur's inheritor – he was just as much a flammable piece of tinder as the rest.

They were all ignited to their passion, a massive bonfire, lit up by the current dragon Queen. From the quiet but determined Karstly and Broadstone, to the comparatively louder General Blackwell and General Skullic, and all those men beneath them.

There was a fog that Tiberius brought with him. The simple fog of his overwhelming presence. It was that, as much as anything, that blinded his enemies to his overwhelming strategies. But with a single sentence, Queen Asabel saw that fog dispersed, without truly knowing what she was doing.

With a growl, General Blackwell had to admit to himself that he was glad he'd agreed to bring Queen Asabel along with him. Without her, he did not think he would have been able to whip up such a degree of morale amongst the men. He certainly could not have risen to such a level of emotion himself. There was something important for them all to protect, and it was right behind them. They would not surrender this hill, even if they died in the process, their spirits would lift up their weapons after them, and continue the defence.

"Hoh…" Tiberius said, pausing his march just for a second. He turned to the man nearest him, a man that seemed so empty of emotion and so pale of skin beneath his silver plate armour that he might have been a ghost already. "You know, I do think it was worth coming out here after all. This lot – yes, yes, I do say, this lot, they'll do. They might even present a challenge. What fortune – and what a charming woman. That she decided to come all this way, to make our battlefield that much more exciting. What sort of Emperor would I be if I didn't greet her for her efforts?"