A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Lombard nodded. "Without a doubt, you and I know him to be the greatest swordsman in the history of the Stormfront. He sealed his position as that, after passing through the Sixth Boundary. But indeed, Dominus lacked the… knack for people. He scorned company, and that led to others not taking him as seriously as they should have."

"As for leadership, I could show you what I know of it. But, I am no Dominus. Just as he was the greatest swordsman to ever live, our country is host to a score of Generals far greater than I. With your newfound title, once you come of age, you will have the opportunity to fight under them," Lombard said.

Beams' heart pounded at the thought of those generals. "As great as Dominus, you say?"

Lombard nodded seriously. "In their domain of command, they are unmatched. Though less competent than he with a sword, at the head of their armies, you would not notice it. There's a different domain there, a strength only reachable by those that hold the trust of their soldiers, a domain different from the boundaries of Claudia."

"Where can I find them?" Beam asked suddenly. He wanted to fight again, even though his body ached. A fire was in him now, a fire that drowned out the hollowness of grief. Something that urged him to run forward even faster, to grasp even more.

Lombard laughed at that. It was such a startling sound coming from his mouth, and it came with hardly any warning, for his face had been as still as stone before he let it loose.

"You've such a skewed perspective of the world now boy, it's almost a danger to you. You do not merely walk up to the Great Generals and beg for their training. Nor do you simply turn up to a battlefield unannounced. No.

Your master was an eccentric – only later in life, when you see just how hard it is for others to crawl their way towards such opportunities will you realize how lucky you were," Lombard said.

"But even you, you let me fight with you," Beam pointed out.

"Again, an exception, not the norm. You merely happened to be situated in SOlgrim whilst I was making my camp there. If the Yarmdon had not come, or if Francis had not been present, we would have never crossed paths. In fact, you would be lucky to have seen a commander at any point in your life in that village.

Historically, it was one of the safest places to be in, away from the coast, and the raids, and away from the battling to the East… of course, not so much anymore," Lombard said.

"Then what do I do?" Beam asked, sounding desperate. Somehow, in his head, he had figured it would all just neatly line up, that he would be able to keep training, and keep getting stronger where he was. He hadn't stopped to consider how hard it might be to find the opportunities that he needed to prove himself.

"The Academy," Lombard said gravely. "You should have started when you were twelve, but you wouldn't be the first to join halfway through. Make your way through the Academy, and gain enough achievements to your name to be promoted officially to a knight, and then maybe, you'll have the chance at command that you seek, and the chance at battle."

"And I suppose peasants can't attend this Academy?" Beam said, thoughtfully.

"Now we get to the heart of the matter," Lombard said. "To put it simply, for you, boy, you are a mangy wolf that needs to be integrated into the pack. Your distance from true society has been immense. You need to integrate yourself, and then maybe, we can speak of these competencies that you have. There's a way of doing things.

You've come as far as you can on your own, now you must follow the order laid about by society."

"It seems stupid, to go the slower route," Beam said. "I know people have worth… I saw that in the villagers. I know that they make you stronger, when you're properly amongst them. But does this not slow me down? Do I not get held back by rules that don't have much purpose? I'm a peasant – the second they find that out, won't they just get rid of me entirely?

Then what was the point? I'll just be weak again, left alone."

"A complicated question… Something more answerable by experience, than by words. Though I can't say I'm surprised that Dominus' apprentice would be espousing such things, being how rogue the man himself was. I'll simply say this: there are privileges afforded to those in certain positions within a society that one must not take for granted.

If you aim for strength, as you proclaim to, you must acrue every advantage that you can," Lombard said. Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire

"But again, none shall find out about you. Do you have a lingering attachment to your name? For I will henceforth be calling you Oliver. I will no longer make the mistake of calling you Beam, lest someone overhears, and it sows doubts in their mind," Lombard said.

Beam shook his head. "No… I don't suppose I have any attachments to it. It's not my real name, anyway. A slaver gave it to me."

"And what is your real name?"

"It's…" He opened his mouth to speak what should have come naturally to him, but when a name did not arise to his lips as he expected, and then when a few moments more passed after that, he realized with a panic start, that he did not even know he could not even remember his own name.

That realization came with a start of pain in his head. He held a hand to his forehead, and he groaned.

"There is no need to push yourself," Lombard said. "I see my conversation has likely tired you. I will leave you now, and we will speak again in the evening, if you are feeling up to it."

Beam nodded grimly, as he watched Lombard leave. The pounding headache felt like an axe into his skull. It was several hours before it began to die down, and several hours after that when the maid came again to summon him.

…

…

It was evening when the maid finally led Beam outside into the gardens. Or perhaps it was Oliver that she led out, for now, he was dressed as well as any noble boy should have been. His trousers were narrow, and fit him well, and his socks went up the knees of them, so that they fit him even better.