A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Beam nodded. It was a feeling he'd felt for years. A feeling that might even have consumed him had he not met Dominus. "I think you'll find it."

"I hope so."

…

…

That evening, after parting with Nila, he was back in front of Greeves' house once more, with two bags full of fangs and ink sacs. Their work had taken them hours and by now it was once more dark outside.

But that wasn't the only thing that Beam had brought with him – he'd brought something that caught his eye as he scouted the eastern part of the plains on the way back.

Judas answered the door once more and helped him into Greeves' office with his bags.

Greeves wrinkled his nose at the sight of the sacks stained green all over his floor. "That's a fucking mess, Judas. What are you stupid? Don't go messing up the rug, you oaf."

"Sorry, boss," Judas said, moving to put them in the next room. But Greeves held up a hand.

"I didn't say to put them next door. I just said don't mess up the rug. How am I going to inspect the merchandise if I can't see them? Think a little, eh?" Greeves dug into him hard.

Beam almost winced. He supposed Judas didn't have it quite so easy either. Especially not when Greeves was feeling stressed out by whatever nefarious plans he'd set in place that were falling through.

"Right, boy, what have we got here?" Greeves said, nodding at the sacks.

"Spider fangs and poison sacs. A lot of them. I want two silvers," Beam said, expecting a harsh rebuke, but Greeves said nothing. He merely glanced inside one of the bags, picking up one of the fleshy poison sacs, apparently not minding the blood that coated his hands.

"Good quality stuff this… And a lot more than 10 of them," he said. He reached into his coin pouch and slid 2 silver coins and 5 coppers across the table towards Beam. "That it?"

Beam was suspicious about the ease with which the gold-fingered merchant had parted with his money, but he accepted it anyway and then reached inside his coat, placing down the charred remains of what seemed to be a flag, or at least that's what Beam guessed it to be.

Greeves grunted, accepting the piece of cloth.

"I found that scouting to the east. The village perimeter was clear everywhere except from there. Our flag is blue, isn't it? I thought it was weird seeing a black one right next to the village," Beam said.

"Mm… Yeah, that's a Yarmdon flag," Greeves said, tossing the remains over his shoulder. "So your scouting is done is it? Here's 5 more coppers."

"You're not worried about seeing a Yarmdon flag so close to the village?" Beam asked, but he took the coins anyway.

Yarmdon was a country north of the Black Mountains, where their village was situated. In the spring and summer, the Yarmdon ships commonly sailed down the Salt Sea, raiding coastal villages. None had ever been sighted this far to the east, at least not for a hundred years.

"Eh, not my problem. In all likelihood, it's nothing. Some daft merchant will have been carrying it as a souvenir. That or it blew over the mountains. There's no way any of those damn raiders will have walked this far, not from the Salt Sea. And those mountains are practically impassable as well – they won't have come through there.

Besides, it's autumn. Even those greasy bearded bastards aren't stupid enough to make such a journey so close to winter," Greeves said.

Despite his dismal, his arguments were convincing. In all likelihood, it would have been nothing. In fact, all logic pointed to the fact that it should have been nothing, yet Beam still felt uneasy despite that.

"So… You only have the corpse soldier slaying quest and another party of Goblins to clear out, and then you'll have done all that Ferdinand asked of us," Greeves said, speaking lightly, flashing Beam a false smile. That smile made him suspicious.

He sensed from the way that the merchant was conducting himself – so amiably, without strongly resisting any of his requests – that he was likely going to be asking something troublesome of him. That suspicion quickly proved to be well founded.

"And well, I hate to ask this of you, since we had a deal and all, but I'm going to have to get you to push your Hobgoblin hunting forward," Greeves said. "Such is the position I'm in at the moment."

"How far forward?" Beam asked with a frown.

"The day after tomorrow," Greeves said. "Sorry lad, but any later than that, and it'll be useless to me, for I'll have lost my profits regardless." He then turned to look at Judas, giving him a nod. The big man seemed to understand something from that nod, for he left the room, coming back a few moments later with a long parcel wrapped in cloth.

"Is that the sword, then?" Beam asked as it was set down in front of him.

"It is. A fine blade, it is. A little too fine. But with supply being limited, can't be too choosy. You just make sure you take care of the damn thing," Greeves said, untying the string around the sword and pulling the cloth off it.

Beam's eyes lit up as he looked upon the sword. It was simple, for sure, but solid. Whereas a finer sword might have decorated the hilt of the weapon and given it a fancy pommel, this sword was nothing but dark steel and a leather wrap. He gently drew it from its leather sheath, catching his reflection in the well polished blade.

The sword entranced him. He stood up despite himself, sliding both his hands on the grip and testing its weight. Indeed, being a bastard sword, it was a little shorter than the blades that other warriors wielded, more similar to his master's sword in length, but it was still very much a fearsome thing.

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