Huuuge commission for  exatron! He wanted his beeftastic cheetah doing as he do and taking over the Palamani Dominion. WARNING: This story takes place AFTER my story. Strength of a Thousand Men is completed, but I won't be posting it until I've got the last illustrations. So DO NOT READ THIS if you don't want the ending spoiled. Besides that, enjoy!

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Story © Me
Daniel ©  exatron

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A hundred years into the Fourth Age, also known as the Age of the Strong, and the Palamani Dominion stood dominant over all. With the ascension of their new God of the Strong a century ago, the Dominion stretched across the Western lands, and now, even the Eagle and Falcon lords of the Southern arid lands of the Al-Barrad Caliphate bowed to the Red Banner of United Strength. There were still some hold-outs; rebellious weaklings that were under the delusion that they could stand up to the Palamani. But the village of Kabir Al-Fahd refused to give quarter to the Legions, refused to swear allegiance to Imperator Valentulus III, and refused to fly the Red Banner. There was only one answer; the Dominion’s appointed ruler of the Al-Barrad lands, Exarch Claudius, had to send soldiers to put down the rebellious village.

Centurion Maximus was the obvious man for the job; a veteran of two campaigns, Maximus was certain he could handle anything these weak barbarians could throw at him. He was the type of soldier the Dominion loved to send to newly conquered provinces. An eagle with Al-Barrad ancestry, Maximus was tall and imposing, with a muscular build that was nearly bursting out of his armor with a top-heavy body that emphasized burgeoning flanks, a back that spread out wide as wings, and arms thick as boulders. When he marched his men to the savannah river plain that the village sprawled across, Maximus was certain this would be nothing more than a footnote in an illustrious career.

Thankfully for their newly conquered territories, the Palamani Dominion had changed; their new god was quite clear that strength was shown in a variety of ways, and the path to peace was not always the path of weakness. Thus, Maximus was open to a parlay with the village elders. If only a show of strength is necessary, all the better; the village would be much more of an asset to the Dominion alive and whole. Riding a huge warhorse, he marched his soldiers through Kabir Al-Fahd’s narrow streets, the soldiers’ immensely broad shoulders grinding against the mud-brick walls, their armor shining in the mid-day sun, and their red banners flapping in the warm breeze. Maximus led his troops to the village square, dominated by a rather striking temple; it was far more lavish than the rest of the village, framed by tall, graceful minarets, covered in blue tiles and adorned with mosaics of a behemoth of a cat.

Maximus gave it a curious glance before sliding off his horse. Then, the Village Elders emerged; numbering half a dozen, all of them were feeble old men. Still, when they stood before the muscular soldiers that positively dwarfed them, they showed no sign of fear.

The eagle’s feathers rustled slightly out of annoyance at the petulant Elders, but he let it pass. Rolling his impressive shoulders and letting his chest puff up, grinding against metal plate, he cleared his throat and spoke in a deep, booming voice. “People of Kabir Al-Fahd! Your weak Al-Barrad Lords have fallen; your Caliph is in Virtus, kissing the feet of Valentulus III, our mighty Imperator. Like your Caliph, you are weak, but in the Dominion, we can make you strong! Join us, and know the strength of empire!” Maximus flexed his arms, letting his powerful biceps swell and snap the leather cords that held his elbow guards in place.

“As we told Exarch Claudius, we have no interest in joining the Dominion.” One of the Elders said, completely unfazed by Maximus’ show of strength. “We are aware that the Palamani Dominion is an impressive empire, but we were never part of the Al-Barrad Caliphate, therefore, not part of your Dominion’s conquest. When the Caliph surrendered, he did not speak for us.”

Maximus frowned. “My family personally knew the former ruler of these lands, Emir Fahd. He claimed this as part of his province.”

The Elder gave a glib smile. “Emir Fahd claimed Kabir Al-Fahd, presumably because of the name, but he never received a single copper of tribute or tax money, and his soldiers never dared come here.”

Maximus arched a brow, crossing his arms over his vast chest. “And why is that?”

The Elder pointed to the mosaics adorning the temple. “Our guardian,” the others murmured their agreement. “He has protected this village for as long as anyone can remember. He was bigger and stronger than the Emir’s soldiers, and he is bigger and stronger than you.”

Maximus snorted with derisive laughter, flexing his arms again as he leered at the Elder. “Ha! Where is your guardian, then? Call on him. I have the strength of a dozen men. I am the Champion of the Siege of Ras-Almal, and I tore through the Caliph’s bronze gates with my bare hands.”

The Elder nodded, unconvinced. “I’m sure your stories are impressive, soldier, but our guardian is greater still.”

Maximus squat down on his bulging haunches, his beak hovering an inch from the Elder’s face. “Bring him here,” he growled.

“We don’t call on him. He knows when the village is threatened… and clearly, he doesn’t consider you a threat.”

Maximus stood back to his full height. His feathers were ruffled, making him look even larger. “Then tell me where he is,” he snarled.

The Elder pointed past the village limits, to a rocky outcrop under the shade of a massive acacia tree. “He lives in the den, under that tree. Go at your own peril, soldier. If you go, show respect. He will not appreciate rudeness from an unworthy foe.”

Maximus was visibly twitching out of irritation as he snapped his fingers, signalling his men to march. “We will see about that,” he hissed through a clenched beak. “And when we return to bring this village to heel, the first thing to go will be those mosaics! The God of the Strong will need a temple of his own, and he won’t suffer ‘an unworthy foe!’”

It was a short march to the Guardian’s Den; the dry, hot lands of Al-Barrad were punishing to the Palamani, used to short summers and harsh winters, and they were only too happy to remove their helmets, loosen their armor, and let their burly bodies cool off in the shade of the great tree that dominated the den.

Maximus, still blustering, snatched a Palamani banner from one of the standard bearer’s, and drove it into the rocky slope of the guardian’s den, stomping his foot. “Guardian! Get out here! The Palamani have come!”

The only answer he got was the wind rushing through the tree branches.

Maximus stalked over to the gaping entrance of the den; it was the size of a decent house, and all the eagle could see was darkness inside. He picked up a pebble, and threw it in. “Guardian! Face me!”

There was a long, groaning sigh, and then the sound of claws lightly scraping against stone, but nothing emerged from the cave.

Maximus, turning red under his motley plumage, hefted a boulder nearly as tall as he was over his head. He was groaning under the weight, and shaking visibly from the feat. “GUARDIAN!” He roared, and hurled the boulder with all his might.

The boulder was thrown back. Maximus gasped, and leapt out of the way just before the boulder landed, splintering into dozens of stone shards from the force of the impact.

As Maximus scrambled to his feet and unsheathed his sword, his jaw dropped.

Emerging from the cave was the single biggest figure Maximus had ever seen. Though he had never seen Imperator Valentulus III in person, this is what he thought an Imperator would look like. Wearing only a threadbare loincloth, the figure’s titanic body was on full display. Sun-kissed fur with brown spots was stretched tight over legs thicker than the acacia tree’s trunk, thighs bulging and rolling off of each other. They supported a body that dwarfed Maximus, with spots warped over a torso almost as wide as two of the Centurion’s soldiers, pecs as solid and vast as the rocky outcrop that was his home, arms roped with muscle so heavy, biceps, forearms, and triceps were actively jostling each other for room, and burgeoning shoulders that were eating at a neck nearly as thick as Maximus’ waist.

His feline face glanced over his traps, just barely, as his ears twitched at a far-off sound, giving Maximus a glimpse at a back as sprawling as the savannah plains around them. As he turned back, his face framed by a mane of rich brown hair, Maximus noticed the odd pair of spectacles resting on his broad muzzle, something he hadn’t seen outside the Western Provinces.

The guardian’s whiskers twitched, and he took a single powerful stride to close the gap between him and Maximus. He placed a meaty hand on the eagle’s shoulder, nearly enveloping it, as he squatted down to look the eagle in the eye.

“You called for me?” he growled.

For the first time in his esteemed career, Maximus was utterly speechless.

The mammoth cheetah frowned deeper as he spotted Maximus’ sword. He plucked the weapon out of the stunned soldier’s hand and, grasping it in his paws, twisted it into a metal knot before tossing it over his shoulder.

“Th-that was a gift from the Imperator!” Maximus protested. His feathers rustling again, he glared up at the Guardian. “MEN! Spear, now!”

A timid soldier quickly passed Maximus a spear before darting back out of the Guardian’s reach. The incensed Centurion, snorting like an angry bull, glared down the Guardian and dropped into a fighting stance.

“...Really?” The Guardian shrugged. “Alright. You’re braver than most, I’ll give you that.” The cheetah hunched over, his claws extended.

Maximus drew closer, and his bigger opponent started circling him. The Guardian moved like a predator, with more fluid, agile steps than could be expected from a behemoth like him. Maximus struck first, yelling as he charged head-on, thrusting his spear forward. Maximus began the fight in good spirits; he was faster than the Guardian’s reactions, and his spear struck, grazing the cheetah’s beefy flank.

Maximus frowned as he saw the wound was superficial; he was barely bleeding.

“No one would blame you from backing down.” The Guardian almost smirked at Maximus.

The eagle stared daggers at the cheetah, and, catching his breath, charged again, but this time, the Guardian side-stepped the attack. Maximus drove at him again, and the Guardian snatched him in his arm, the cheetah’s massive bicep grinding into the eagle’s armor, making the metal groan. Feeling his arms strapped to his side and closed in on all sides by muscle, Maximus squirmed like mad. The Guardian wrapped his second arm around Maximus, pressing the Centurion up against his heaving pecs, nearly burying his face in the cleft down his chest.

“Give up?” The Guardian asked.

Maximus snarled, still trying to break free.

The Guardian sighed, and slammed Maximus to the ground, smothering the Centurion. “Ow!” The Guardian jumped up, but still kept the fallen Palamani in place by planting his knee on the eagle’s chest, flexing his trunk of a thigh to impress on his opponent that the battle was lost. “You bit me?”

“Palamani never give up!” Maximus grunted, still trying to take a swing at the Guardian.

“Evidently,” he turned to Maximus’ soldiers. The entire cohort were keep their distance, their weapons drawn. “Any of you want to fight?”

The Palamani fervently shook their heads.

“COWARDS!” Maximus roared under the Guardian’s knee.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to restrain your little bird of prey here, we are going to march back to the village, and we’re going to have a nice conversation. Understood?”

The soldiers complied, collecting their Centurion. It took three of his soldiers to hold the eagle back. The march back was tense, with Maximus screaming his rage while the soldiers watched the Guardian with trepidation. When they reached Kabir Al-Fahd, the villagers rejoiced as they saw their Guardian. The cheetah was showered with adulation; women threw out rose petals, and the butchers and grocers threw him scraps of meat and pieces of fruit, which the Guardian caught in his mouth, with a wink to the villagers and a roar of applause. As they reached the square outside the temple, the village elders appeared, bowing low to the Guardian.

Maximus glared at the Elder that he had spoken to before, daring him to speak.

“You found our Guardian, Centurion,” the Elder said, trying to hide a smile.

“There are more where these came from, aren’t there?” The Guardian asked.

“Yes! Two legions, the Tenth and the Thirteenth, are on their way! Thousands are gathering at Ras-Almal, to bring strength and order to Al-Barrad,” Maximus declared, “and that includes this village!”

The announcement rung throughout the village. There was panicked murmuring rolling through the assembled villagers, and the elders looked troubled. All eyes turned toward the Guardian.

“Guardian… can you defend against legions?” The Elder asked.

For the first time, the cheetah was robbed of words, his face frozen in stunned silence. After a moment to collect his thoughts, he shook his head. “No. This group, roving bandits, Al-Barrad patrols… sure. But thousands? I can’t get that many before they get the village.”

“What are we going to do?” A villager in the crowd demanded.

The Guardian hesitated, but then held up his huge arms. “Kabir Al-Fahd! I’ve been here for you for as long as I can remember, but things have changed. These Palamani aren’t going to be so easily dislodged, and with thousands coming, I can’t just beat them back.”

“Guardian,” an Elder grabbed the cheetah’s arm. “What are you suggesting?”

The Guardian bit his lip. “We join the Dominion.”

The villagers howled their outrage. There were cries of “Traitor!” and “Coward!” thrown at their champion’s feet.

“Listen! LISTEN!” The cheetah stomped his foot, pounding the ground and shouting over the roar of the crowd. “We are not surrendering! We’re going to join them on our terms.”

“The Palamani don’t offer the conquered terms!” Maximus growled indignantly.

“They’ll do it for me.” The Guardian announced, flexing his arm. His bicep inflated in size, casting Maximus in its shadow. “I’m going to Ras-Almal, and knock as many heads together as I need to until they give Kabir Al-Fahd what this village deserves!”

There was a smattering of approval, but most of the villagers remained silent.

“Guardian…” The Elder looked uneasy. “Are you certain? You’ve not left Kabir Al-Fahd… ever.”

The Guardian sighed. “I don’t see any other way.”

“What will we do for protection?” A villager demanded.

“The Palamani are able.” The Guardian looked them over. “Maxy? Who’s your second-in-command?”

Maximus glared at the Guardian with daggers in his eyes. “Evocati Antonius! Front and center!” The eagle barked.

A hawk only slightly thinner than Maximus hurried up. The Guardian loomed over him, then hunched down on his legs so they were face to face. Antonius didn’t back down and looked the cheetah in the eye, but he was stiff as a post, going wide-eyed as the cheetah unsheathed the soldier’s sword.

“See this?” The Guardian asked.

Antonius nodded.

“I’m trusting you and your men to protect this village. If a single one of them complains about you all, or gives me one report of abuse…” the cheetah bent the sword into another knot, just as he had done to Maximus’ sword. “I’ll get mad. And I take out my anger on others. Understand?”

Antonius’ feathers were ruffled, and he stared at his twisted sword lying on the ground. He nodded vigorously.

The Guardian smirked, and then stood to his full height before patting Antonius on the cheek. “Good man.” He glanced down at Maximus. “And you’re going to take me to Ras-Almal.”

“And why would I do that?” Maximus spat.

The Guardian arched his brow. “Do you need me to lie on top of you a second time?”

The eagle glowered. “Fine.”

Preparations were quick to be made. A humbled Maximus gave his soldiers curt orders to behave themselves in the village while the villagers and Elders prepared supplies that could keep their massive Guardian fed.

Soon, Maximus was on his warhorse again, and the Guardian had a massive pack slung over his tremendous shoulder. The entire village came out to wish the Guardian well; their shouts of goodbye and well-wishes were carried on the wind long after the two left the village.