One Year Ago
Location: Muchovan
Stunned silence reigned over the crowded field. The people’s hero, their final hope, son of
Jaguar the Great, lay on the ground defeated. Unconscious it was easier to look past his
height, muscles and fierce energy to see him for the 16 year old boy he really
was. What a sad hope.
The
loser was lifted gently, reverently, and moved to lay on the bench of shame
where the many who had previously been defeated already sat, clutching their
injuries, faces full of murderous intent and barely restrained rage as their
hateful eyes glared at their victor. He
was of unimpressive size and build, had the looks of unknown heritage and the
styling of a punk. He gave an exaggerated bow to his opponents,
making a farce of the Muchovan tradition.
One man needed restrained by his more level-headed, bleeding companion.
A tall
thin man in fine clothes strode out to stand beside the conqueror. The
appropriately called Asp, Prime Counselor of Muchovan, was now the second most
hated man in the country. He’d sponsored
the detested winner. No one knew
why. Even now as he approached his
champion faint, aristocratic distaste painted his narrow, severe face.
Asp did
what was expected, though, bowing to the winner, placing the heavy, symbolic
epaulets on his shoulders, then presenting him to the crowds. The silence broke, erupting with boos and
hisses and cursing, covering Asp’s privately spoken words.
“You
should have killed him. He’ll hate you for
winning and won’t stop until you’re brought down.” The victor gave the counselor an ironic look.
“As
opposed to my adoring public?” The distaste in Asp’s eyes grew to full-fledged
disgust, his lip involuntarily curling.
The throng’s volume rose and threatened to mob the winner’s circle,
gaining the counselor’s attention. “Aww,
are you worried about me?” His victor taunted, “That’s sweet.” Rather than responding, Asp turned sharply
from him, fully facing the sea of unhappy faces.
“Muchos,
one and all! Hear me!” The shouting fell to murmurs. One didn’t dare ignore someone with a
reputation like Asp’s. He was Prime
Counselor for a reason. “I present to
you the new leader of all Muchovan armies.
For his victory and actions here today he will henceforth be known as
General,” Asp paused to look back at him, a superior gleam in his all-seeing
beady eyes, “Cringe.”
This
name stopped the murmurs for a split instant, only to be replaced by a glee
filled laughter. No Muchovan had ever
received such an appellation, but how appropriate
for such an unworthy outsider.
The
newly dubbed Cringe, gave a half laugh, his lips twisting into a smirking smile
at the Counselor. He liked this name;
how appropriate indeed. He stepped
forward, chin raised defiantly, the smirk changing into the toothy smile of a
tiger. The laughter started dying in the
people’s throats.
With
Cringe in power, they were just now realizing, they may have a tiger by the
tail.
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