The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Stiger did not know what to say.

  I wanted to meet you, the spirit said, to wish you well, before I join my wife in eternal rest. That is why I have waited, lingered in this pleasant place, this refuge, all these long years, to see the fulfillment of my work.

  “Is that all?” Marcus asked. “Is that the only reason you waited?”

  No, the spirit admitted and held out a hand toward the altar, while his gaze shifted to Stiger. I give you a gift of Rome, something personal.

  “You are giving me your armor?” Stiger guessed.

  I am, the specter said. You are a warrior, a leader of men in battle. Now, you must become a warrior emperor, a leader of the empire and her people. The specter’s gaze slipped back to the lorica. This armor served me well. Wearing it will mostly be symbolic, something to help solidify your rule in the minds of the people. And yet, it is also so much more.

  Stiger did not know what to say. He shared a look with his father.

  The gnomes promised to keep it safe and care for it until the day you came. I am pleased by their faith and that they have kept their word, for some of their race cannot and should not be trusted.

  “You will bear the first emperor’s own armor, my son,” Marcus breathed. “There is no greater honor.”

  And that is where you are wrong, Marcus Stiger, the spirit said. There are greater honors. Well, you should know. Being a father is such a one. You have sacrificed much for a destiny not of your choosing, nor your offspring’s. Now is the time to make amends for that, to repair the rift that has grown, to mend things before the end.

  Marcus had gone still. He glanced over at his son and gave a nod filled with emotion. “I will make amends the best way I am able—to both of my children.”

  The specter turned his ethereal gaze back to Stiger. Wear this armor with pride and know that, at the end, when all seems lost, I will be with you in spirit and more importantly—will. Do this and you will please me greatly.

  “I will take up your armor,” Stiger replied. “I will wear it with pride. Thank you for this fine gift.”

  It is but little, the spirit said. In truth, I grieve, and terribly so. You bear a heavy burden and curse not of your making. The specter’s tone hardened. And yet, as my descendent, Roman blood flows through your veins, and with it comes strength. Use that strength, the will you have been given, and complete the work I began. Give our people what they so deserve, an empire without end.

  “I will,” Stiger said.

  Support your son, the spirit said to Marcus, for he will need your help as he walks the lonely path ahead.

  “It shall be done,” Marcus said. “I shall be the father I wanted to be, but could not.”

  The spirit seemed pleased by the answer, for he gave a nod, then shifted his attention back to Stiger. Watch Rarokan, for he will do all in his power to meet his own end. If he succeeds, all we have worked toward will not come to pass. The spirit began to fade before their eyes. And now, finally, I go to cross the great river. I go to rest—with my beloved. Good fortune to you both—you will need it.

  And then the spirit was gone. They were left alone. Stiger offered up a prayer to the High Father, asking that the crossing of the great river be an easy one for Karus.

  Prayer complete, he rubbed his jaw as he regarded the armor for several heartbeats. The gift was, in Stiger’s estimation, priceless. He untied the strap to his helmet and placed the heavy thing upon the stone altar. He began hastily unbuckling and untying his armor. As he did it, he looked over at his father.

  “You can have mine,” Stiger said. “It was Delvaris’s, from the Thirteenth Legion. It may be a little big, but we’re going into a fight. I think you will find its protection welcome.”

  “Really?” Marcus said, intrigued. “How did you find it?”

  “In his tomb,” Stiger said as he continued to untie the straps that held the armor in place.

  “You robbed his tomb?” Marcus seemed shocked.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Stiger said. “The armor was a gift. Everything we knew about him was wrong. He knowingly sacrificed so much so that we could have a chance. When we have some time, I will tell you what I know.”

  “There is a lot to tell, then?” Marcus asked.

  “You have no idea.” Stiger shrugged out of his armor and found himself hesitating. He had worn this armor so long he was reluctant to part with it. Still, it was time. He handed it over to his father. In a way, it felt like he was losing an old friend. Then again, he would be wearing armor that the first emperor wore, Karus’s own. He felt incredibly honored by it. He picked the lorica up and found it lighter than expected. He examined the interior. The leather pads and straps all seemed new. Someone had replaced them, likely the gnomes.

  Slipping it on, he began the tedious job of lacing it up, tying each strap tight. It was only then he noticed the phalera, the distinguished honors the previous wearer had won for bravery. One even had the face of the High Father emblazoned on it. He did a double take, for he thought the face was glowing. He attributed it to a trick of the candlelight.

  Carefully, Stiger untied each and removed them. He left the phalera on the stone altar. It would not be right to wear the honors of another. Besides, he felt they belonged here in this forgotten and hidden temple. Once they were removed, he continued putting the armor on. Within a short time, he had it secured, pulling the last of the laces tight and tying them off into knots that would not come loose.

  He shrugged his shoulders about, settling the leather pads into place. It was a surprisingly good fit. He glanced over at his father as he slung his sword harness over his shoulder and settled Rarokan into place. Marcus had finished putting on Delvaris’s armor. Stiger picked up his helmet.

  “Are you almost ready?” Stiger asked. He placed the helmet upon his head and tied the strap tight, to the point where it pulled painfully at the skin on his neck.

  “I am,” Marcus said. He glanced down at himself. “Not bad—a little loose. I can have it adjusted later.”

  “There’s no need,” Stiger said. “That armor is enchanted. Give it some time. It will fit you like it was made for you.”

  “Enchanted, you say?” Marcus looked down at the armor again, marveling. After a moment, Marcus looked up at him. “Shall we go kill Lears and win you an empire?”

  Stiger clipped his ragged and tattered blue cape onto the rings set into the armor. He pulled on the bearskin cloak next.

  “Right now, that sounds like an excellent idea.” Stiger started for the exit and stopped at the doorway. He glanced back at the empty altar. He had a flash of Delvaris’s tomb. “Rest easy and thank you.”

  There was no answer. He had not really expected one. Having crossed the great river, Karus’s specter was gone, no longer to haunt this temple. He was with his wife, the High Priestess, in eternal rest. For a moment, he felt a flicker of envy. Stiger glanced around and spotted Dog. The animal was sitting in the spot where he’d greeted Karus.

  “Dog,” Stiger called, “come.”

  He turned away and stepped back outside. Dog emerged a moment later. The gnome was nowhere to be seen. Stiger wondered where the little creature had gone.

  He made his way rapidly back up the path and to the gate. His father followed after. As Stiger stepped through the gate, the temple district materialized around them. With it, the cold of winter was a harsh slap in the face. He found Ruga, Eli, and Therik waiting for them. So too was Restus. They looked immensely relieved as he appeared with his father.

  “I see you found the first emperor’s temple,” Restus said, “and his armor too. It was meant for you.”

  “Karus gave it to me himself,” Stiger said, tapping the armor with his knuckles. “Well, his spirit anyway.” He looked around. The column was still halted.

  “You spoke with the spirit of the first emperor?” Eli asked.

  “Really, sir?” Ruga asked.

  “He did,” Marcus said. “It was the first emperor and that, I
can attest, is Karus’s armor.”

  “And I missed it.” Eli seemed crestfallen.

  “Amazing, sir,” Ruga said. “You are truly gods blessed.”

  “Some days,” Stiger said, “it seems too much so.”

  “You can never be too blessed,” Ruga said.

  “You could have taken me along,” Eli said. “I would have loved to see Karus’s ghost.”

  “Is the temple guard ready?” Stiger asked Restus. He was eager to be off.

  “They are,” Restus said, “what’s left of them at any rate.”

  “What do you mean?” Stiger asked, warning bells sounding in his head.

  “The High Priest took most of the guard with him.” Restus clenched a fist. “When I get my hands on him, there will be a reckoning.”

  “He did what?” Stiger asked.

  “He’s gone,” Marcus said. “You mean he fled?”

  “Yes,” Restus said.

  “He probably joined Lears in the palace,” Marcus said.

  “We can only hope,” Stiger said, “for given the chance, I intend to have a word with him as well.”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” Restus said. “He took the temple’s treasury with him. The priests he left behind confirmed that. They also had the impression he was intending on leaving the city.”

  The temple treasury was effectively the empire’s treasury. Guarding it was the temple guard’s primary mission. That it was gone was a catastrophe, especially if he could not get it back.

  “Well,” Marcus said, “if they went to the palace, it won’t matter much. We just need to break the men Lears has and simply take it back.”

  “And if they didn’t?” Eli asked. “What if they fled the city, like the paladin said?”

  “In that case,” Marcus said, “after we deal with Lears, we won’t be able to pay the army.”

  “That’s a big problem,” Max said. “You can’t run an empire without money, something with which to grease the wheels.”

  “They will have to be hunted down then,” Therik said. “It’s a shame Hux isn’t with us, along with several troops of cavalry.”

  “I don’t even want to think about that right now,” Stiger said. This was yet another problem to work on later. “There are too many problems before us. We focus on one at a time. The immediate problem is Lears. He comes first.” Stiger turned back to Restus. “How many of the guard did you manage to round up?”

  “Less than twenty,” Restus said unhappily.

  “Out of a complement of four hundred?” Stiger felt a stab of frustration. His gaze went to Fortuna’s temple. She was screwing with him again. That was for certain.

  “Any paladins?” Stiger asked, hopefully.

  Restus shook his head. “Just me. The rest must be on quest.”

  “So be it.” Stiger glanced up and down the column of men. He had over seven hundred men of good quality. Yes, they were outnumbered, but they were legionaries, and he was confident in their quality. He told himself it would be enough. They had to be, for he did not want to contemplate them not being sufficient.

  “Seven Levels,” Ruga exclaimed. “Seven bloody Levels. It just can’t be.”

  Stiger turned and saw the centurion staring back toward where the first emperor’s temple was located. Led by the priest, gnomes were emerging in single file from the gate. They wore what looked like miniature legionary armor, much like Karus’s. Each had a white cloak. They were armed with a shield and a small sword. Stiger could not believe what he was seeing. Gnome legionaries? Could the little bastards have taught themselves discipline and formation tactics? Was such a thing possible?

  “This day is just getting more interesting by the moment,” Eli said.

  “I don’t know if I would call it that,” Therik said quietly.

  The priest marched right up to Stiger.

  “Champion.” The priest looked up at Stiger, black eyes glittering under the sunlight. “We come to fight. We kill enemies together, yes?”

  A gnome officer, denoted by his centurion’s crest, began shouting at the gnome legionaries in their own language, with the clear intention of forming them up into a column alongside Ruga’s men. The legionaries who had been standing about looked on in fascination.

  “How many gnomes are there?” Stiger asked, looking at the growing formation, who were jumping to follow their officer’s orders without complaint. Coming from them, it was a surprising show of alacrity and discipline.

  “Three hundred,” the priest said. “They good fighters. Give enemy hard time.”

  “And all follow the High Father’s teachings?” Stiger asked. “They all worship our god?”

  “We are of Anderri,” the priest said, with a fierce pride. The name meant nothing to Stiger. “We follow High Father.”

  “The army already includes gnomes. They do not follow the High Father. Will this present a problem for you and your boys?” Stiger could already imagine how Cragg would respond to these gnomes and a priest with power and the will to use it.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” the gnome said with a shrug of its tiny shoulders. “We shall see. Not big problem in my eyes. No problem at all.”

  Stiger wasn’t so sure about that.

  “You can trust them,” Restus said to Stiger. “Their faith is true.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Therik said with a horrified tinge to his voice. “More gnomes?”

  The priest turned its gaze to the orc and simply stared at him before slowly smiling. It was a smile devoid of warmth.

  “It is the High Father’s will,” Stiger said, eyeing Therik, whose hand had found the hilt of his sword as he returned the priest’s gaze.

  “Yes, it is,” the priest said. “We fight along you and allies, including him.” The gnome pointed at Therik. “We fight with your pet orc.”

  “Pet?” Therik growled.

  “Very well,” Stiger said, wondering what other future problems this arrangement might cause. “You are welcome to join us.”

  “We kill enemies, yes?” the priest said.

  “Yes, we will,” Stiger said.

  Stiger looked up the column of march. He could see Lepidus at the front, gazing back at him. Stiger raised his hand and pointed it forward in an exaggerated manner that could not be misunderstood. Lepidus got the message.

  “Fall in,” Lepidus shouted. That call was taken up by the officers of the entire column. “Tenth Company, fall in. Hurry now.”

  “What is your name?” Stiger asked the priest.

  “Sehet, Champion,” the priest said. “I am called Sehet.”

  “Forward,” came the shout from Lepidus at the front of the column, “march.”

  Lepidus’s company began moving out. Stiger watched as the Tenth continued up the street toward the High Father’s temple in the direction of the emperor’s palace.

  “March,” Spatz shouted a few moments later, and his company began moving, with a gap of ten yards between the Tenth.

  Stiger started forward, moving along the column, as Ruga snapped an order and his century stepped off. Eli fell in at Stiger’s side, as did Dog. Marcus started walking with Max at his side. The two quickly fell into conversation about what had just occurred in the first emperor’s temple.

  “Found some more friends, I see,” Eli commented dryly, drawing Stiger’s attention.

  “It seems that way,” Stiger said as he spotted Dog nosing around the gate to the first emperor’s temple. The gate had been closed.

  “I wonder what the rest of our gnomes will think of your new friends,” Eli said.

  “That’s what I am afraid of,” Stiger said, sharing a long look with Eli. He turned his gaze forward as the palace came into view ahead of them and up the hill. It was time to focus on the job at hand. “Dog, come.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What do you think?” Stiger asked Lepidus and Spatz as a cold wind blew by, fluttering cloaks. Eli, Therik, Marcus, Spatz, and Ikuus stood gathered around him on the street. Snow
had been shoveled to the side and off the paving stones.

  The snowbanks rose three feet to either side. Restus was there too, along with Sehet and the officer who commanded the company of gnomes. His name was Wast, and from what Stiger had learned already, his personality was intense and focused, almost single-mindedly so. As if he had something to prove, Wast took his job incredibly seriously.

  The column had once again come to a halt. This time, thankfully, they were finally on the edge of the palace district. A small arched gate stood before them. It was open. The plastered wall that surrounded the palace grounds was decorative and had never been meant to defend against a determined force. Ivy had grown up over portions of the wall and most of the gate.

  At best, both the wall and gate were meant to keep the curious out. The Praetorian Guard had been the real deterrent, and they, for the most part, no longer existed. Most of the guard had died with Tioclesion, and Stiger had disbanded the rest in Lorium. Corus’s company had been the only one Lears had made into new praetorians. At least, according to Lepidus and Spatz.

  The entry gate into the palace grounds stood about twelve feet in height and the wall eight. Under the ivy, the stone face of the gate was intricately carved with a relief of the story of Karus. It told the legend surrounding how the Ninth Legion had come to this world and, more importantly, how Karus had led them to their new home.

  Under the mass of ivy, which had yet to fully lose its leaves, the carvings could hardly be seen. The leaves, for the most part, had turned a reddish brown. Like much of ancient imperial history, in a way, the story of Karus had been lost to the mists of time.

  The events surrounding the Ninth and the founding of the empire were now considered by most imperials to be simply legend and myth. And in truth, Stiger had never really given it much thought. But now, he found himself looking at it differently, for he knew the tale of Karus was anything but fanciful storytelling. Karus had been real and so too had the Ninth Roman Legion.

  There was around twenty yards of open space between the wall and the nearest residential buildings. Stiger recalled that cut grass normally grew in the cleared space. It was now covered in a layer of fresh snow crisscrossed by numerous footprints. There was even a snowman some children had made.