A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

After the last clash, Beam realized that he wouldn't last long relying on dodging. Though he had resolved not to hit the opponents back, he figured he could at least redirect their strikes.

As the sword came bearing down towards him, he shot out a hand and grabbed the man's wrist, before pulling him in towards his shoulder and sending him stumbling off to the side.

The front opened up now. Like that, the cage was broken, and it was as though he'd taken in a deep gulp of air. The next two strikes were easily dodged. The one at his torso he merely twisted to avoid, and the other he merely stepped into his newly conquered space to avoid.

The leader of the party scrambled back to his feet, having nearly lost his balance after Beam's push.

There was true fury in his eyes now.

"I'm going to make you suffer, boy," he spat.

"We should have brought our spears," the thin man said. "He wouldn't stand a chance against those. Nor would this noisy damn crowd."

There was a clear hint of anxiety to his voice, as he nervously glanced over his shoulder, sensing that tensions were building up and that his time was running out.

Beam, for his part, looking as calm as he had when the conflict had first started, even as blood ran down his arm and flowed off his wrist.

"Beam…." Nila murmured from behind him, the worry clear in her voice.

He would have moved to reassure her. But from the look in the soldiers' eyes, he figured he wouldn't get a chance. They moved in without orders this time, their strikes filled with rage, as each of them foregoing their normal group fighting tactics, of attacking different parts of his body, and they all merely aimed to kill.

The blows came in slightly quicker after that, but it didn't cause any issues for Beam. He merely took two light steps back, and avoided the flurry of blows at once. When the first strike had ended, he moved in to reclaim his space, by nudging the other two strikes aside with quick motions on both swordsmen's wrists.

They ended up stumbling behind him, just as the leader of the party had before. This time they didn't let up. As they got behind him, they came at him again, charging recklessly, truly surrounding him now.

Beam wasn't so good when it came to that kind of awareness. There had been improvements, of course, but he would still much prefer to have his enemies in his vision where he could comfortably deal with them.

Because of the change in circumstances, Beam was forced to move. Just as the leader of the party to the front of him was raising his sword up once more, Beam lunged in, using the man's momentum to throw him backwards, before he swiftly dealt with the two soldiers behind him.

The first strike to his back came for overhead, and so he ducked, and tripped the man's feet out from underneath him. For the other man, he closed the distance between them before he could even bring his sword down, and he struck at the fingers of his sword hand, forcing the man to drop his weapon.

Beam noted that his movements were growing increasingly violent. Before he'd been able to just defend, but now he was forced to offer strikes back of his own, though they were strikes of the most minor level.

The crowd roared in delight. "GET THEM, BOY!" They screamed.

The soldiers only grew angrier. They noted Judas and Nila stood behind him. Looking for Judas to Beam, they couldn't decide who was stronger. It made sense to try for a weaker target, but with Judas looking as intimidating as he did, they weren't quick to try that.

Instead, their eyes wandered to Nila. Devilish looks of understanding were shared between the two men, as they thought they had found a weakpoint.

But like a gust of wind, there were more murmurs sweeping through the crowd. The soldiers hadn't noticed yet, but Beam thought he did. He squinted towards the source of the commotion, and began to relax.

The soldiers dove in once again, just in time to put their antics on full display for their commanding officer.

Beam did his best to look as innocent as possible. He kept his hands up defensively, but did not curl his fingers into fists, making it clear that he was merely intent on warding off the blows.

A strike came slashing down from above. Greeves and Lombard broke the wall of the crowd, and Beam made eye contact with the Captain. The man clearly grimaced.

"LOWELY, ANGRITH, BARTHA, STAND DOWN!" He bellowed. Somehow the voice of a single man managed to make the roars of the crowd from earlier seem quiet.

The men jolted as though hit by an electric shock, and immediately stiffened up to attention. Years of training overrode their every instinct, and hearing their Captain's voice, they acted before their mind could process what was happening. They had to – any hesitation in the military would be accordingly punished.

Only after they were standing to attention, with their arms by their sides, and their chins high, waiting for orders, did they stop to realize that their Captain had arrived. Clear looks of worry flashed across their faces.

"Yes, I do think that's the right expression," Lombard said gravely.

Greeves was walking along meekly beside him, looking like a whipped dog, a defeated look on his face. He glanced at Beam with a scowl and shook his head.

"I see your dogs are causing yet more trouble," Lombard commented, eyeing the man. "It seems to me that you are at the centre of everything that wrongs me as of late. Any comments on that?"

"…I have none," Greeves said in an exhausted tone, apparently sick of defending himself. The irritation that he glanced towards Beam with was palatable though, and Beam was inclined to feel a little bit sorry for him.

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