The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Ben.” Eli pointed. “Look.”

  Stiger followed Eli’s finger. He saw Handi behind the two auxiliary formations with another officer, a legionary. Both were studying the action. Ten legionaries stood guard around the tribune and officer. Stiger felt his anger return in a heated rush.

  “Can you hit him from here?” Stiger asked.

  Eli shook his head. His bow was strapped across his back. “I am out of arrows.”

  Frustrated, Stiger could see no easy way to get to the tribune. That pissed him off, and fiercely too. He had to win the battle. That was the only way to get to Handi. He looked around again. Spatz was fully engaged with the auxiliaries. So too were the gnomes, but he did not have a good sense for how that struggle was going. Lepidus’s men were now disorganized. He moved his gaze away and spied Ruga’s men, with the centurion, coming around the stables in battle formation. Ruga walked before his battle line. They were late to the party, but more than a welcome sight. He now had reinforcements to feed into the fight.

  Stiger jogged over, with Therik and Eli following.

  “Ruga,” Stiger said.

  “Sir?”

  “Drive into the side of the formation Spatz is fighting. Kindly roll them up, if you would.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ruga said.

  Stiger stood back as the centurion led his men by. Shouting orders, Ruga adjusted his line of attack, maneuvering it into the optimal position. Incredibly, the enemy officer commanding the auxiliary cohort seemed oblivious to the approaching threat. He made no move whatsoever to counter it. This might have been because his men were beginning to give ground at an increased pace and he was struggling to check that, for it meant the cohort was close to breaking. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, there were already stragglers streaming back and away from the fight, along with some wounded.

  The dead and injured were also beginning to add up. The trampled snow had been stained burgundy. Bodies, both friend and foe, littered the ground, more so of the later. It tore at Stiger to see the men on both sides injured or lying dead on the snow. In a way, they were all his boys now that he was emperor.

  Ruga’s men closed to ten feet, five, then his line struck home, hammering into the side of the enemy cohort. The intensity of the fight immediately increased. Ruga’s men continued to push their way forward, driving into the side of the cohort’s formation. The fight lasted no more than a sixty count before the auxiliary formation, under incredible pressure from two sides, began to crumble. It was not an immediate collapse, and that, Stiger thought, was a testament to their discipline and training.

  “Fall back!” an officer began shouting. “Fall back. Maintain formation. Fall back.”

  “Break them, boys!” Spatz shouted. “Push ’em. They’re breaking. Keep on them.”

  Spatz’s men redoubled their efforts and, a heartbeat later, the enemy formation completely and thoroughly fell apart. It was suddenly a mass of confusion as both Spatz’s and Ruga’s men surged forward, cutting down, without any thought to mercy, whoever they caught. As they rushed after the fleeing auxiliaries, Stiger could finally see the gnome formation.

  The gnomes, holding their shields at an upward angle, pressed forward against the cohort they faced. The auxiliaries had to awkwardly angle their rounded shields downward, as the gnomes were striking at exposed legs and feet. It seemed they were having difficulty handling their smaller foes.

  Shockingly, the gnomes were driving the cohort before them, forcing them back, one rugged step at a time. Already the little bastards had taken out dozens of auxiliaries, who lay in the bloodied snow twenty yards behind the fight. That was how far the gnomes had driven the auxiliaries, and the pace was accelerating by the moment.

  There was a high-pitched whistle. The front rank of the gnome company stepped back as the second rank moved forward and brought their shields up. They immediately went into the attack and, like regular legionaries, they used their shields for cover as they stabbed with proper technique at their enemy. Stiger was impressed with the change in ranks. It had been done efficiently, in a practiced manner that demonstrated the gnomes’ training and professionalism. They were indeed legionaries.

  The auxiliaries, seeing their fellow cohort fleeing the field in disorder and pressed tightly by the gnomes, suddenly seemed to lose heart, for the formation fell apart. Like angry ants, the gnomes swarmed after them, slaughtering with apparent glee all they managed to catch.

  Stiger felt an immense wave of relief. All three of the enemy cohorts that had been engaged had been broken, and rapidly too. Despite being outnumbered, he was master of this field of battle.

  Stiger looked for Handi. Amongst the confusion, it took a moment to find him. Handi had moved and was with the last formation of men, the one by the palace. That cohort had been advancing to engage. Now, they were withdrawing toward the palace in good order. He spotted a man with Handi and his blood ran cold. Stiger felt an intense wave of disgust roll over him.

  “Veers,” Stiger breathed.

  “What?” Eli asked. “Where?”

  “The dark paladin?” Therik asked, following Stiger’s gaze.

  “There.” Stiger pointed. “He’s with Handi.”

  Veers suddenly came to a stop and turned, as if he sensed Stiger looking at him. Handi stopped too. Absurdly, Veers raised a hand in greeting and waved at Stiger before starting up the dozens of marble steps toward the palace.

  Give him to me, the sword hissed. I want Veers.

  “You can have him when we catch him,” Stiger said. “Both parts of his soul.”

  “Did you see him?” Restus came up and pointed toward the palace where Veers had disappeared with Handi. “The dark paladin. Did you see him?”

  “I did,” Stiger said. “His name is Veers and he’s a paladin of Valoor.”

  “This is not good that he’s here,” Therik said, “not good.”

  “I agree,” Stiger said and then looked around. They had to not only secure the grounds but seal off the palace. “We’re going in after them.” He paused and raised his voice. “Spatz, Lepidus, Wast, Ruga, reform. Reform your boys. We’ve got more work to do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The palace towered over Stiger and the men, in parts rising to a height of five stories. Even by imperial standards, Stiger felt the building lacked any semblance of grace or elegance. He had always thought it ugly, unworthy of the grandeur of the empire, and yet the people loved it no less.

  Stiger doubted that any real thought or preplanning had gone into the palace’s construction, at least past whatever the original structure had been. It was also doubtful that anyone, even the historians, knew what the original layout of the palace had looked like.

  This was the result of successive emperors, each adding to the building in their own way, so that the additions and renovations looked almost discordant, perhaps even incompatible with one another. Gazing upon the palace, Stiger thought it was as if an architect, in a fit, had gone thoroughly mad.

  Despite all that, the emperor’s palace was a terribly imposing structure, so much so that standing in its shadow made one seem small and insignificant, perhaps even a little humble. The only other structure in the empire that was larger, besides the High Father’s temple, was the colosseum down in the city.

  On the south side of the palace, where the family residence was located, there were covered walkways that led out to the palace gardens and grounds. These were lined with intricately shaped and carved columns. Each column reportedly came from a different part of the empire. They had been installed by Tioclesion’s father, who had also renovated the palace grounds. The walkways were covered with arched and tiled roofs. Benches had been strategically placed at points for those enjoying the views of not only the city, but of the grounds too.

  Stiger considered that the imperial palace was not just the emperor’s home and personal residence but the administrative center for the empire. It represented the beating heart, and as the empire had grown, so too ha
d the palace to meet the needs of the bureaucracy.

  On the north side, where he was standing now, there were administrative offices of all types. It was there that much of the bureaucracy worked to keep the gears of the empire functioning and well-lubricated. Without those people, the bureaucrats and administrators, the empire simply would not function. They could be inefficient, sometimes incompetent, but they were a necessity.

  Slave and servant quarters, guestrooms and suites, kitchens, receiving and banquet rooms were spread throughout the rest of the palace. The throne room, with the curule chair, was at the heart of it all.

  The portion of the palace the emperor and his family occupied was quite small by way of comparison to the rest of the palace. If Stiger recalled correctly, it was perhaps even smaller than his own family home.

  Stiger gazed on the palace with a sour feeling. He had always disliked the palace and now more so. It struck him not just as ugly, but also as cold, sterile, and thoroughly unwelcoming. With Lears and Handi in possession of the place, as well as Veers, he felt the irrational desire to tear it down to the ground, just as he had done with Castor’s temple in Forkham’s Valley.

  He pulled his gaze from the palace and looked around. His men had thoroughly surrounded the building. Almost an hour had been consumed searching and clearing the buildings within the palace grounds, along with bringing Ikuus and Seventh Company up and getting them positioned. The rest of Spatz’s men had rejoined their company as well.

  Stiger and his officers had surveyed the outside of the building, studying it. A conference had followed and a plan of assault, which struck at multiple points simultaneously, had been worked out. Shortly thereafter, each unit had begun moving into their jump-off positions for an assault. That was what he was waiting for now, the last of the units settling into position. Then, the hard work could begin: the assault and clearing of the palace.

  Across the gardens and behind him, the dead and wounded littered the grounds. No serious effort had been made to care for the injured or even collect them. That, sadly, included friendlies. Only a handful of men, walking wounded mostly, had been assigned to the task. It tore at his heart, delaying care, but he had to focus on the task at hand, successfully storming the palace and limiting further casualties. Stiger was mindful that Lears had sent for reinforcements from the army. It was only a matter of time until they arrived, which left him impatient to get things going. But Stiger had long since learned that to do something right took time. And so, he outwardly remained patient.

  “Imperator,” Lepidus said, coming up. The captain of Tenth Company saluted. “My company is in position.”

  Stiger returned the salute. He considered Lepidus not only a friend, but an equal. He was not sure he would ever get used to being saluted by the man. With Lepidus was Stiger’s father. The Tenth had been the last unit to report their readiness. Stiger had sent his father to check the positioning of each company and confirm all was in readiness. Eli and Therik stood a few feet away, discussing something amongst themselves. Dog was sitting patiently by Stiger’s side.

  “I believe the assault is ready, sir,” Lepidus said.

  “I agree,” Marcus said. “We await your order, Imperator.”

  Stiger looked at his father and resisted a scowl. He considered replying, but instead gave a nod, accepting the report. He was not looking forward to this next part. Not in the slightest. The fighting would be hard, brutal, as he expected the defenders to prove not only stubborn but determined.

  Inside the palace, Stiger knew there were at least an entire cohort of auxiliaries and a light company of legionaries. There might even be more. Perhaps as many as five or six hundred defenders waited.

  “We’ve been friends for what, ten years?” Lepidus asked. “It seems like just yesterday you took command of Seventh Company.”

  Stiger looked over at the captain of the Tenth, wondering what was coming. Lepidus appeared somewhat uncomfortable.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Stiger said. “I value our friendship too.”

  “Then, may I offer the emperor some advice?” Lepidus asked.

  “You know your advice is always welcome,” Stiger said. “Don’t stop speaking your mind now.”

  His gaze tracking to the palace, Lepidus gave a nod. He hesitated before he spoke, then looked back over at Stiger.

  “Hang back for this next part,” Lepidus said. “You are now our emperor. There is no need to put your safety at risk.”

  “He’s right, my son. You should not risk yourself unduly,” Marcus said.

  Stiger did not say anything as his gaze shifted back to the palace as well. He sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. The breath steamed on the cold air. He found it a difficult thing letting others do the dirty work for him. It never got easier, whether that be in command of an army on the battlefield or here, when he was so close to taking his throne.

  They wanted him to remain away from the fighting, safe and protected. Only, as the High Father’s Champion, he knew he could not do that, not completely. Risks had to be taken, danger faced, and Stiger suspected in the near future he would be putting himself once again in harm’s way. He was the High Father’s weapon—and weapons were meant to be used.

  “I can’t talk you out of this?” Lepidus said. “Can I?”

  “Staying out of the assault?” Stiger looked back over.

  Lepidus gave a nod.

  “No,” Stiger said. “But I will hang back, allow the men to go in before me. However, if it comes to it and the need is there, I will fight. Sometimes, examples need to be set for others to follow, hearts need to be hardened and courage reinforced.”

  “I still don’t like it, though,” Lepidus said. “We can handle what’s to come. You well know that.”

  “How can you ask me to let others do all the fighting?” Stiger asked them, looking between Lepidus and his father. Now he understood why Lepidus had come to report personally the readiness of his company. The two had talked beforehand. “You’d have me stand back and simply watch? You both understand how tough the fighting in there is going to get, the casualties we are likely to take. I have experience with this sort of thing.”

  “And so too do your officers, for the most part,” Lepidus said.

  “Were something to happen to you,” Marcus said, “and Lears survive, each one of the officers supporting you would be summarily put to death, perhaps even the men themselves. At the very least, examples would be made. Risking your own skin needlessly is selfish.”

  Stiger eyed his father for a long moment. He knew his father’s point was fair—more than fair, actually. Marcus was right. His time of fighting in the line was over. Going forward, he understood, he would have to be more careful. Though he well knew there were battles ahead only he would be able to fight.

  “There are some things I must do for myself,” Stiger said simply, “and you both can rest easy. I will not risk my life needlessly. I care for it too much. Besides, the High Father gave me a task to complete, a job to do. I intend to see that through to the end.”

  A legionary jogged up to Stiger, ending the conversation, to Stiger’s relief. He came to attention and offered Stiger a salute.

  “Captain Spatz requests your presence, Imperator,” the legionary said. “There is a delegation that wishes to talk at the south entrance. My captain would like to speak with you before accepting their offer to talk.”

  “Tell Captain Spatz I will be right there,” Stiger said.

  “Yes, sir.” The legionary saluted, turned, and jogged off the way he’d come.

  “This is an interesting development,” Lepidus remarked. “I wonder what they want to talk about.”

  “Whatever it is,” Marcus said, “I seriously doubt they want to surrender.”

  Stiger agreed. He turned to Lepidus. “I will hear them out. When they’re done, I intend to give the order for the assault to commence. Be prepared for it when it arrives.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lepidus saluted and lef
t, working his way through the snow and back to his company.

  Stiger looked over at his father. “Would you care to join me for this?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Marcus said. “Shall we go?”

  With that, Stiger, along with his father, began moving toward the south side of the palace. His escort of four legionaries assigned by Ruga moved with him. They had created a small bubble of protection. Dog stood, shook himself, and padded along behind them.

  They passed men positioned in assault groups, prepared to make the final attack. They had been permitted to relax. Some sat on the ground in the snow and rested while they waited. Others leaned upon their shields. Though they had just been through a fight, they looked more than ready for another. Legionaries were a tough breed and Stiger loved them. As he passed close, the men stood and came to a position of attention. A few even offered salutes. Stiger returned them whenever they were offered.

  He found Spatz standing a short distance from one of the covered walkways that was lined with columns. Ten of the captain’s men stood behind him in a line. They had been permitted to stand at ease but were clearly ready for action. A few yards away, under the nearest walkway, stood a legionary officer, a lieutenant. He was not one of Stiger’s men.

  “Sir,” Spatz said as Stiger came up to him. The captain offered a salute, then gestured at the lieutenant. “He wants to talk, or really Lears’s representative does. They sent him out to arrange terms to speak. I don’t think there is much of a chance they will surrender, and he pretty much admitted it to me.”

  “He did?” Stiger asked, wondering what Lears’s game was.

  “Sir,” Spatz said, “I don’t think he is too happy to be in there, either. Do you want to speak with their representative? It seems like a waste of time to me.”

  Stiger agreed with that assessment and considered refusing the offer to talk. But after he glanced about at Spatz’s men, who had already given him so much this day, he knew he had to make the effort. If there was even a remote chance of a negotiated deal ending things, he had to give it a shot. The alternative was more blood, a currency Stiger did not wish to spend, unless he had to.