Read Online Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) by Marc Alan Edelheit - Free Book Online
Authors: Marc Alan Edelheit
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taught to handle a knife by one particular sergeant, a real mean, dirty son of a bitch. The kind that never fights fair.
“‘Stiger,’ he said to me, ‘when it gets to knives … there is you and him … better him go than you. How him dies matters little, as long as it’s him.’”
A chuckle ran through the crowd. They had heard similar statements from training sergeants and had not expected to hear such from an officer.
“That training has saved my life on more than one occasion,” Stiger said meaningfully, looking from man to man. He paused a moment to let that sink in. They were not stupid. No matter what fiction he had just presented to them, they understood that Bennet had just tried to kill their captain. Bennet, clearly a respected man, had failed. Amongst the legions, strength and fighting prowess were respected above all else. It was becoming apparent their captain was not some pampered fop who had purchased his commission to impress the ladies.
“We,” Stiger gestured at the two sergeants, “are going to teach you how to fight and fight dirty, so that if it comes to knives and fists … the other poor bastard is the one who ends up fodder for the crows.”
Stiger took a quick breath. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. Caught up in the moment, the men did not notice. He saw Eli, who had most likely just returned from hunting and evaluating the scouts, at the back of the crowd. The elf’s youthful face was an unreadable mask, concealing any emotions. Eli simply nodded in greeting, though Stiger thought he could read a slight note of disapproval in his friend’s eyes.
“I moved us out of the main encampment because it is rife with disease,” Stiger continued. “Within a few weeks’ time, had we remained, many of you would have become sick and died. Today … well, today we clean up. We set up a proper camp, a clean camp.”
Stiger casually took a few steps to his left, moving away from Bennet, allowing his words to sink in. Several of the men nodded. He had wanted the men to understand why he had moved them. He also intended to clearly lay out his expectations. If the men knew what he wanted and why he wanted it that particular way, things would go easier.
“I don’t know about you, but I am sick and tired of salt pork,” Stiger said, gesturing toward Eli at the back of the crowd. The men turned to look. “I sent Lieutenant Eli’Far and the scouts last night on a little hunting expedition. Lieutenant, tell us what you bagged?”
“Two large bucks,” Eli responded, his elven voice ringing clearly on the crisp morning air. It came across somewhat alien to human ears. Many found it uncomfortable and more than a little unnatural. The men did not seem bothered by it. They were hungry, and Stiger could tell the news was more than welcome, even if it came from an elf. In time, they would learn to trust Eli, as he did. Grins broke out, followed by a ragged cheer.
“As I said, today we clean up, set a proper camp and feast. Tomorrow we begin work, and I mean hard work. We have a job to do, and as long as we have a job to do, we stay out of that disease-infested mud pit of an encampment.” Stiger paused a moment. He was not below using the men’s bellies to begin winning their respect. “I will make you a promise. I will turn you into proper legionnaires. I will care for you. I will work to keep you alive, and when possible, well-fed. All I ask in return is that you do your utmost and perform your duty. I expect all of you to honor the empire and fight for your family, for the company.”
“If we get fresh meat,” one legionary called from the back, “I will fight for you, sir!”
A cheer went up at that. Stiger smiled in reply. The scar on his cheek turned the smile into a slight sneer.
“Lieutenant,” Stiger said loudly, looking over at Ikely. At some point, the lieutenant, sensing the danger had passed, had sheathed his
“‘Stiger,’ he said to me, ‘when it gets to knives … there is you and him … better him go than you. How him dies matters little, as long as it’s him.’”
A chuckle ran through the crowd. They had heard similar statements from training sergeants and had not expected to hear such from an officer.
“That training has saved my life on more than one occasion,” Stiger said meaningfully, looking from man to man. He paused a moment to let that sink in. They were not stupid. No matter what fiction he had just presented to them, they understood that Bennet had just tried to kill their captain. Bennet, clearly a respected man, had failed. Amongst the legions, strength and fighting prowess were respected above all else. It was becoming apparent their captain was not some pampered fop who had purchased his commission to impress the ladies.
“We,” Stiger gestured at the two sergeants, “are going to teach you how to fight and fight dirty, so that if it comes to knives and fists … the other poor bastard is the one who ends up fodder for the crows.”
Stiger took a quick breath. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. Caught up in the moment, the men did not notice. He saw Eli, who had most likely just returned from hunting and evaluating the scouts, at the back of the crowd. The elf’s youthful face was an unreadable mask, concealing any emotions. Eli simply nodded in greeting, though Stiger thought he could read a slight note of disapproval in his friend’s eyes.
“I moved us out of the main encampment because it is rife with disease,” Stiger continued. “Within a few weeks’ time, had we remained, many of you would have become sick and died. Today … well, today we clean up. We set up a proper camp, a clean camp.”
Stiger casually took a few steps to his left, moving away from Bennet, allowing his words to sink in. Several of the men nodded. He had wanted the men to understand why he had moved them. He also intended to clearly lay out his expectations. If the men knew what he wanted and why he wanted it that particular way, things would go easier.
“I don’t know about you, but I am sick and tired of salt pork,” Stiger said, gesturing toward Eli at the back of the crowd. The men turned to look. “I sent Lieutenant Eli’Far and the scouts last night on a little hunting expedition. Lieutenant, tell us what you bagged?”
“Two large bucks,” Eli responded, his elven voice ringing clearly on the crisp morning air. It came across somewhat alien to human ears. Many found it uncomfortable and more than a little unnatural. The men did not seem bothered by it. They were hungry, and Stiger could tell the news was more than welcome, even if it came from an elf. In time, they would learn to trust Eli, as he did. Grins broke out, followed by a ragged cheer.
“As I said, today we clean up, set a proper camp and feast. Tomorrow we begin work, and I mean hard work. We have a job to do, and as long as we have a job to do, we stay out of that disease-infested mud pit of an encampment.” Stiger paused a moment. He was not below using the men’s bellies to begin winning their respect. “I will make you a promise. I will turn you into proper legionnaires. I will care for you. I will work to keep you alive, and when possible, well-fed. All I ask in return is that you do your utmost and perform your duty. I expect all of you to honor the empire and fight for your family, for the company.”
“If we get fresh meat,” one legionary called from the back, “I will fight for you, sir!”
A cheer went up at that. Stiger smiled in reply. The scar on his cheek turned the smile into a slight sneer.
“Lieutenant,” Stiger said loudly, looking over at Ikely. At some point, the lieutenant, sensing the danger had passed, had sheathed his
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