TYRAM

“You sound very bitter,” J'vann said.

“Because I am,” Andry growled. “Now let me make this as clear as I possibly can. I will not be joining your little band. I will not be passing the lion regalia on to anyone else. And I don't want any of you here. All you can do is bring more trouble, and this town already has enough. Have your meeting—quickly—and go.”

“You smell bitter too,” Sasha said. “But you also smell like fear.”

“I should,” Andry said. “I'm the only sane man in town, and I have to look after these idiots. They still think Knights are something romantic. Well you're not. You're idiots with a little auram prancing around playing stupid games, and when somebody with a stronger arm and better auram comes and beats your face in with a morningstar none of it matters a damn. I don't need to hear about your codes of honor, I don't need to hear how it was before the Ruin Wars. I had enough of that from my grandfather. None of us were there, and it's all bullshekk anyway.”

“Take it back,” Rimni growled, leaning aggressively forward. “What you said about Knights.”

“Steady...” J'vann said, but the young rat knight wasn't listening.

“Take it back!” Rimni roared, leaping up on the table. From somewhere in his sleeves he produced a pair of daggers. Their edges began to glow as he filled them with auram.

“You want to go little boy?” Andry laughed. “Like I said. Children, playing silly games.”

“Was your grandfather a child playing silly games?” Tyram asked. Andry flinched as if he'd been slapped. “I assume that's who passed the Lion Regalia on to you, especially if he was the one who talked about the ruin wars.”

“Of course he was,” Andry spat the words. “How the hell do you think he ended up dead?”

Rimni was so angry he was shaking, the tips of the daggers in his hands jittering like frightened beetles.

“You're a coward,” he said finally, putting his weapons away. “My master wouldn't like if it I killed a coward.”

“Whatever,” Andry said, standing up from the table. “I don't care what you think of me. I care that...”

“People,” Fann cut him off. “Lots of them. Arriving in vehicles. Something sounds off about it.”

“Shekk,” Andry said. “Shekk. They're a day early. All of you stay here. And don't be stupid. This is our problem, not yours.”

He left the table, running out into the street.

“How could anyone pass their Regalia down to a coward like that?” Rimni grumbled,

“I do not think it is himself he is scared for,” J'vann said. “At least not in the way that you mean.”

“What do you think is going on out there?” Sasha asked. “I smell a lot of people. And they all smell like weapon fire and vermin.”

“Bandits,” Tyram said. “They said the fields were a mess because of something bandits did.”

“We were told of a farmer who died,” J'vann said. “Everyone was reluctant to tell us how.”

“Explains the tense faces around here,” Verro said.

“And the nervous pulses I've been hearing,” Fann nodded.

“Whole place smells like fear,” Sasha said. “Besides I think maybe I met a couple of them.” The group stepped out of the tavern and followed people to the town square. The town seemed to have two kinds of citizens, those who had come out to watch and those who were hiding in their homes. There were four jeeps arranged around the square, each one vomiting up a group of armed men with dirty yellow-brow uniforms and carrying rifles. They pushed the crowd back with threats of gunfire, clearing space in the middle of the square for the fifth vehicle as it rolled into town.

It was a massive sled made from rusted metal and machine parts. Spikes stuck out of the back of it in a ring. It seemed to have no engine but was being pulled by two enormous snails with spiked shells. One was red and blue, the other black and yellow, the snail's flesh covered in brightly mottled spots. Despite looking like snails the creatures pulled the sled as fast as any vehicle's engine into town, and it's occupant stood.

He was enormously fat, but his bulky arms and the ease with which he moved were a sure sign he was also strong. He wore yellow armor with metal plating from neck to toe, with a yellow helmet and goggles on his head. All that could really be seen of him was a huge mouth with startling white teeth and a beard, huge bushy and ragged.

“A regalia,” Verro said, and the other knights nodded. Tyram had also noticed the telltale auram-sheen to the bandit's armor. And it wasn't too surprising to see one on a bandit—on a backwater like Trego, the most likely people to have Regalia were police or criminals, give or take the odd trainee knight or retired soldier.

“Alright everyone,” the bandit bellowed. “You know the drill, it's tax time. There's the not having your bones broken tax. There's the not having your homes burned down tax. There's the not having to watch your family get killed tax and oh wait, wait, I'm forgetting one....right, I remember! The not having your wives and daughters all get raped tax. So where's my favorite accountant today?”

“Right here,” Andry said, stepping out of the crowd carrying a pair of enormous briefcases. “I'm right here Jarlo. I have what you want. Take it and go.”

“Awww he growls but he brings me treats,” the enormous man—Jarlo—said. “Like a good little doggy. Oh I'm sorry I forgot you're not a doggy are you? You're a kitty. A big strong lion.”

Jarlo and his soldiers laughed at their joke as Andry put the briefcases down in front of the snails. Jarlo leered down at the villager from his vantage point on the sled.

“Thought about my job offer yet Andry?” Jarlo said. “Pretty kitty's got some pretty good auram to work with. Kind of thing could keep a man comfy his whole life if he got smart about it.”

“I don't need your job Jarlo,” Andry said. “Just take your money and leave.”

“Well maybe somebody else in your family is a little smarter,” Jarlo grinned. “How about that pretty sister of yours? Maybe she'd appreciate what I have to offer.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Tyram could see Andry shaking in fury and humiliation. He wondered what the villager had had to endure all these years, that things had come to this point.

“We should do something!” Rimni said.

“It's not that simple,” Sasha said. “If we act now the villagers will be in danger.”

“Better to wait until they're gone,” Verro said. “Deal with it with more information, and the civilians out of danger. Even so...”

“Even so,” Tyram nodded, “I might not be able to hold back for very long.”

He hadn't even realized until he spoke that he was shaking too. Something about the fat bully up on his sled made his stomach boil like nothing else he'd ever seen. Maybe it was just the setup. This was just like one the old stories—the fairy tales Andry had been sneering at minutes before. Familiar evil.

“Our angry lion wants to handle this himself,” J'vann said. “This is his town. It is obviously not the first time he has done this. We cannot get involved until it becomes absolutely necessary.”

“But-!” Rimni started.

“I know,” Sasha said, clenching her fists. “I know.”

In the middle of the square, Jarlo was still leering down at Andry.

“How about it?” the bandit demanded. “Why not go and get her, and I can make her an offer? Gotta be better than hanging around this dump right?”

“Leave my sister out of this,” Andry snarled. “Just take the money and leave.”

“I don't have all my money yet,” Jarlo said. “If I'm not going home with that sweet ass I'm gonna need one more case full.”

“You son of a-”

“Watch it!” Jarlo snapped. “You can only push me so far, kitty cat. Careful or I might decide to get violent.”

Too furious to speak, Andry merely nodded and turned away, walking back towards the crowd and presumably somewhere he could gather the money to fill another case. He was stopped by Aurina, who ran out of the crowd to stand in his way.

“Brother no!” she said. “Don't!”

“Aurina it's fine,” Andry said. “We'll make it up later...”

“But we can barely pay them as it is!” she pushed past him and into the middle of the square, looking up at Jarlo. The huge bandit looked back with a leer so ugly his face almost looked no longer human, as if every lewd and perverted thought had been condensed into a single expression. “If I go with you, will you stop bothering the village?”

“Aurina, no!” Andry shouted.

“Quiet kitty cat!” Jarlo snapped, not looking away from Aurina. “The kitten's made her own choice now, and she's a lot smarter than you. Will I leave the village alone? Well kitten, it depends. I'll make that decision based on three things.” He held up three fingers and closed them into a fist one by one as he counted. “Eagerness, obedience, and stamina. Basically if you stay wet and ready I'll leave the village alone. The minute I hear you say no....”

He thrust his now closed fist out and a glowing wave of pure aurum flowed from it, blowing a chunk out of the wall across the square. A scare tactic, a trick more than a technique. It used too much auram to waste on someone without a Regalia, and on anyone with a Regalia it would be too weak to work. But so far as Tyram and the other knights knew, the only one in town with a Regalia was Andry.

Aurina took a deep breath and looked Jarlo the eye.

“Alright,” she said.

“Aurina!” Andry roared, rushing towards her. Jarlo tossed another fistful of aurum that caught him in the chest and sent him flying back into the crowd. He knocked over a few of the bandit soldiers, creating a hole in their defenses, but they just laughed and kicked Andry in the side as they stood. Aurina didn't look back. Everyone watching could feel that if she turned away she'd break and run, and never be able to come back. She walked between the snails and Jarlo helped her up beside him, crushing her against his body. Behind her Jarlo's soldiers grabbed Andry and dragged him in front of the enormous sled.

“Oooh if looks could kill I'd be a dead man,” Jarlo laughed. “But a toothless alley cat can't even kill a mouse. Settle down, kitty cat. You so much as spit in my direction I'll level the whole town. So why don't you.....”

The laser bolt bounced of Jarlo's cheek and struck the dirt with a pop and a hiss. All eyes in the square turned to an upstairs window where Chaddim sat on the sill, raising his laser rifle for another shot. It was entirely pointless. No one with aurum powerful enough to throw it, let alone with an active Regalia like the bandit wore, could be hurt with an ordinary laser. But the old man wasn't thinking about that. Anyone could see it in his purple face and mad, desperate eyes. He was the mayor of a town under the thumb of bandits. For whatever reason, they'd demanded—and gotten—Andry as the one who dealt with them, so he couldn't even put himself between the village and danger despite supposedly being their leader. And now this...he'd simply had more than he could handle.

And Rimni called Andry a coward, Tyram though. What does that make me?

Tyram was already airborne when the thought crossed his mind, and the stunned silence in the village square was broken by the cracking sound of his fist slamming into Jarlo's face. The force of the blow sent the huge bandit out of the seat of his sled and onto the ground. The bandit soldiers whirled on him, leveling their guns. Tyram stood in Jarlo's place, glaring at them all defiantly.

He activated his Regalia.

The Dragon Regalia his grandfather had passed down to him was among the most ancient and powerful. He couldn't make full use of it yet, that would take a lifetime, but it was still a force to be reckoned with and as he called on its strength glittering liquid metal flowed across his body and formed his armor. A metallic chest piece covered his simple shirt. Matching gauntlets and grieves shimmered into existence, and just over his eyes a visor bearing a dragon's snarling face. The soldiers below fired their own weapons, a mix of slug throwers and lasers. Just as useless as the laser fired at Jarlo, but Tyram turned so that his body would cover the defenseless Aurina.

“Are you alright?” he asked as the weapons fire bounced off his aurum infused body and armor.

“Uh....uhuh,” she nodded, staring up at him wide eyed.

“Okay,” Tyram said. The gunfire was slowing down, and there was a lot of commotion behind him. “Try and find someplace to hide.”

He turned back to a village square turned battlefield.

The townspeople had fallen on the bandits and swamped them like pebbles under a tidal wave. The bandits were armed, and more accustomed to violence than the villagers, but they'd been too stunned by the sudden attack on their leader to notice what has happening until the townspeople were on them. If the mob had been on its own the advantage would have been fleeting, but they weren't.

The other knights hadn't taken the time to summon their own Regalias but they mowed through the mob like a reaper's scythe all the same. Sasha and Fann had weapons drawn, stabbing and slashing at any bandit who pulled away from the mob. Verro and J'vann fought with bare hands, J'vann using brutal chops and palm strikes backed up by his corded muscles and Verro using a series of looping kicks that wheeled him through the crowd dropping unconscious enemies anywhere he passed. And Rimni had become a black blur, barely visible, appearing only for an instant and disappearing just as quickly with only deep, gushing slices in the bandit's flesh to mark his passing. Six Regalia holders had the bandit's completely outclassed.

Except for one. Jarlo was dusting himself off, apparently unconcerned. Tyram could feel he auram trembling within the huge bandit's frame, and couldn't fault him for his confidence.

“So what are you?” the bandit snarled. “Mercenaries? Did the town try and hire you to get rid of me?”

“No,” Tyram said. “You just picked the wrong day to show up, is all.”

“That so?” Jarlo grinned. “Fight's far from over, boy. Say that when you've put me down.”

Tyram clenched his fists, feeling the aurum tightening the muscles in his arms. The special power of the Dragon Regalia was to create huge reserves of auram and infuse them into the user's flesh and bones, producing incredible strength and speed. The flurry of blows Tyram unleashed was like machine gun fire, a brutal tattoo of auram-soaked fists against Regalia armor. Jarlo covered his face with crossed arms, trusting the thick armor on his belly to ward off the blows, but a strike up into his get sent the bandit reeling. He dropped his arms and Tyram slammed three more punches into Jarlo's face, sending him tumbling back against his chariot.

“Think you're pretty tough boy?” Jarlo said, spitting blood and wiping a dribble of it from his chin.

“Tougher than you,” Tyram said, reinforcing his muscles with fresh auram. “And I've got backup left, you don't. Surrender.”

“Cocky little Shekk!” Jarlo snarled. “Didn't I tell you? Fights not over.”

The big bandit reached into his chariot and pulled out a double bladed ax. It's handle was short, and while it didn't gleam with the telltale energy of an auram conjured or auram forged weapon it had a power cell between the blades like a glowing green jewel, and the blades hummed and crackled with more mundane but no less lethal power.

“I'm not afraid to fight a weapon,” Tyram said.

“Who said you get to fight?” Jarlo laughed, the antenna on his helmet pressing their tips together.

And suddenly Tyram was on the ground, clutching his head and screaming.