“Tell me Warlord,” continued the tiger. “What form of death did you have in mind? Hanging? Perhaps have your archers use me as target practice?”

“I have a much better death planned” replied Jarall. “I have a date for you in the arena.”

“Against you?” said Hellion.

“Don’t be absurd,” laughed the warlord.

“No, I didn’t really think so,” replied Hellion. “Men like you need to stand behind others. Something keeps you from being in front. Fear I imagine.”

The crowd began murmuring as the tiger fixed Jarall with a steely stare. The Warlord looked infuriated for a moment, but he quickly allowed the politician to take over again.

“I’ve seen war,” he growled. “I’ve taken my men into battle. I am no stranger to the sword. I just have stronger priorities now. The care of a city, the safety of the people…things a brute like you would not understand.”

Hellion smiled as the warlord spoke. His eyes slowly scanned the crowd and stopped on a short man standing just a bit too close. His hand shot out, taking hold of the startled man’s collar and pulled him violently into the bars. When he let go, the man crumbled to the ground with blood streaming from his nose and a violet bruise blossoming on his forehead.

“It seems you’re not doing well in keeping your people safe Warlord,” said Hellion with a chuckle. “Let’s hope your other priorities fare better.”

                                                                    ~ an excerpt from Clans; Into the Northlands