A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

And then he saw Lombard, carefully pulling himself through the open door after the maid. He was dressed unlike Beam had ever seen him. Beam was so used to seeing him in military attire, that the simple white shirt and black cravat that he wore with it, they only served to further his disorientation.

But then he saw the empty sleeve of Lombard's shirt, and he recalled the battle. He met Lombard's gaze, a question written on his face. Lombard nodded briefly, before speaking to the maid.

"Leave us, Marianne. I'd speak with the boy, now that's awoken," Lombard told her.

"As you wish, Ser Lombard. But don't push him too hard – the Doctor will give us both hell if you do," Marianne said, leaving a cloth next to the bowl of water, she then spoke to Beam. "Oliver, there's a bowl there, if you wish to freshen yourself up."

"He's welcome to the baths," Lombard said.

"He isn't strong enough to go to the baths," Marianne said firmly, forcing Lombard, but with the serious look on her face, he dared not argue. Though she was his servant, in certain domains he allowed her to overrule even him, lest he catch some of her way-ward discontent. She left quietly, wearing the same expression.

The two listened to her footsteps fade, before speaking.

"Oliver..?" Beam said, repeating the name that she had called him. It was impossible to disguise the anxiety in his voice. Lombard waved a hand at that.

"Aye, Oliver. You've been asleep nearly a week, it was impossible to ask your opinion on it," Lombard said, crossing the room, and drawing the curtains with a swift jerk. Sunlight poured in through the glass panes.

"I'm Beam, though..?" Beam said. It was impossible to phrase it not as a question. Lombard must have heard his tone, for he narrowed his eyes as though he'd just heard something stupid.

"Of course you are. As I said, this was merely what had to be done, since you were asleep, and there was no consulting to be done with you. Lord Blackwell arrived a few hours after dawn. It was then that I was forced to introduce you, and Oliver was the only name I could think of. Do you dislike it that badly?"

"No… It's just… Where am I?"

"Ah… Did you not hear any of it? Your master's plans for you?" Lombard's tone softened, as he seemed to understand. "I suppose this seems rather confusing to you then, does it?"

Beam nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak. The pain was beginning to grow stronger. It made it difficult to concentrate.

"He gave you his name," Lombard said. "With it, you inherit his lands and titles as his son. Not that he has any lands – the King made sure of that, years ago. But the Patrick title still remains."

"Wait, what? His son?" Beam couldn't help but grimace at that part. "Are you sure that's what Dominus said?" He pictured the man in his head. He could not imagine him ever suffering to call Beam his son. Experience new stories on empire

Lombard did not smile. His reaction only served to remind Beam that Dominus was well and truly dead. There was no joking to be done about it. With that, a hollow feeling spread throughout his body, and he shivered from it. Panic, and hollow grief. The only two emotions he had felt since waking.

He wondered if his mind was possibly the weakest it had ever been.

"The man gave you his name," Lombard said firmly. "I would not mistake that. He saw the potential in you, and he also saw an opportunity. The barrier of your birth would have kept you from many things. With his death, that was the best he could do for you. Grant you the status of nobility, and with it, the opportunities that he had."

Seeing Beam stand there, unspeaking, Lombard continued. "Is that not what you wanted? Are you dissatisfied? I suppose, awakening here, without a word for your comrades in Solgrim, that might irk you. But it had to be done. Still, if you are so against the idea, you may return from whence you came."

"No… No, it's not that," Beam said urgently, and as he did so, he found himself looking around the room. "It's just… Where am I, and truly why? I still can't understand this. A trick then, on Dominus' part, to pretend that I'm his son, to pretend that I'm nobility. But how – they'll know, they'll find out."

"They won't," Lombard said, a trace of irritation finding its way into his voice. "Your master was not stupid. Do not insult his memory with doubt. Had the circumstances been any different from what they were, then yes, the sudden appearance of a son would be called into question.

But with Dominus' history, his past, the mystery that shrouds his goings on, and with that battle, and all the strangeness in it, the mystery of your own appearance is overwritten. There could not be a more perfect time for it."

"Let me ask you a question, boy, before we proceed any further. What is it that you want? Dominus seemed to think you were of the aim of slaying the Pandora Goblin. He seemed to think that you were aiming for a warrior's greatness."

For the first time since he awoke, Beam had no doubts. The weakness had all but left his voice when he made his reply.

"I want to surpass my master," he said firmly, his eyes flickering to gold as he said it, his fist clenching. And then, after a pause, and a memory of the battle, he sucked in a deep breath, and embarrassedly admitted something else that he had begun to harbour. "…I also wish to… lead, perhaps… But Dominus was unable to teach me that.

He told me that people and strategy were two things that lay beyond him."

The one-armed commander listened, struggling to hide the approval in his eyes. With those words of Beam's, he was sure that they had not made the wrong decision. A week's worth of doubts were swiftly washed away.