A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The Half-Titan made a noise that sounded halfway between a growl and a cough, and the three Gorebeasts tilted their heads as though listening. And then they walked their way to the front, taking the front line.

The Horned Goblins chattered noisily behind the general, their movements as erratic as always, as though they\'d drunk half a barrel of purple coffee. Yet, they were silenced by a growl from the Half-Titan.

They paused again, as though listening – and then they went to take their place beside the Gorebeasts. Six spear units joined the Gorebeasts, and four archers stood behind them. It was unmistakable at this point. That clearly seemed to be a battle formation.

Beam had never seen another species take proper command of the Horned Goblins. They had always seemed to be opportunistic monsters that looked out for themselves. Yet there could be no mistaking what was happening now. This was clearly a monster brand of battle strategy.

The soldiers noted it as well. Those still on duty, with bows in their hands, who had been tasked with assisting Beam, and those carrying building supplies, meant to be fortifying their defences. None of them could hide their dismay.

"What the fuck is that?" Came one especially distraught cry. "What the hell is that thing? It\'s commanding the monsters, isn\'t it? How the hell are we meant to fight against that?"

"The Vice-Captain gave his orders. He seems to think we can hold the line against it."

"We? He expects us to get up there and fight that? Come on now… It would swipe through our spear wall with a single swing! It\'s suicide!"

"Not us. Him."

Beam could feel the eyes on his back as he made his way away from their defensive line, and back towards the battlefield.

The ground was slick underfoot, from where their intensive battling had trampled the snow enough to melt it, rendering it a wet slush, complete with a slimy mud just beneath it.

The terrain, in that messy state, favoured monsters far more than man. For their claws were far more used to digging into the slippery earth than the meagre wooden treads that clung to their bootsoles.

Even with the sky clear and free of clouds, the air was deathly cold. Beam had abandoned his coat a few hours ago, and was merely in a thin blood shirt, dotted with mud and blood, that he did his battling in.

He was not able to witness it, for his eyes were already primed on battle, but the effect that his sliding from its sheath had on morale was nearly miraculous. The doubt seemed to disappear.

"Damn it! I guess we\'re doing this then!"

"Soldiers, at the ready! We need to help the boy break that defensive line! Distract their infantry!" Before they knew what was happening, the officer in charge was already giving orders. But strangely enough, these were the sort of orders that one would hear on a human battlefield. Never did they expect that they\'d need to out-strategize monsters.

With the soldiers ready to back him up, Beam took a few steps forward, merely to gauge the monster\'s reaction.

There was a growl, and arrows came whizzing Beam\'s way. He dodged them easily, and tapped one aside with the blade of his sword, as he continued to walk forwards.

The Horned-Goblins frantically reloaded, at the behest of their monstrous commander. Another order was given, and the front line began to advance.

The three Gorebeasts formed the centre, whilst there were three spear-wielding goblins on either side of each. The whole line slowly crawled forward, caution in their eyes. They seemed to realize that Beam was an enemy to fear.

As they walked, the pressure of their force could be felt. Unified as they were, they were far more threatening than they would have been alone.

Once the distance was short enough, Beam rushed in, charging head-first at the Gorebeasts in what could only be described as foolishness.

Even the soldiers that were meant to be his allies couldn\'t guess his intentions. The officer was forced to pick a target at random. "FIRE ON THE LEFT FLANK!" He ordered.

A cloud of arrows went sweeping through the air. The spear-wielding goblins made for prime targets. If they didn\'t move, they would soon be dispatched of. The Horned Goblins knew that better than anyone. They squealed and rushed back, even at the cost of ruining that defensive line that had been set up.

Beam saw the opening midcharge. Where there had once been a mere impenetrable flat line, now there was a wide-open Gorebeast flank.

The Gorebeasts attempted to move as one, as the Half-Titan behind them growled out orders. They did as they were told, but what they were told wasn\'t nearly as effective as it would have been, had they merely done what was instinctual.

Beam\'s blade tore through the leftmost Gorebeast\'s neck, severing its head in a single clean blow.

These were pack animals. They were meant to encircle their prey, using their speed, and wear it down as they bit away at it, alternating, before diving in and taking the throat once their target was weak enough. They didn\'t benefit from this uniform combat – not when they were utilised in the same way as spear infantry. It restricted them, and stopped them from showing their truest strength.

It was only when Beam dealt with the near-rigid Gorebeast that had been forced to keep its position on the left that the other two Gorebeasts seemed to realize their folly. Used in war, such creatures should have been utilised in the same way as cavalry.

Their monster commander was clearly not as adept at using his troops as he could have been. Their fear of Beam overwrote their fear of their impromptu leader, and the ranks broke.