Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) by Marc Alan Edelheit

were now in the process of brushing the animals down. The mules and officers’ horses munched happily on hay and oats as the men worked.
    Stiger went to Nomad and removed the saddle, setting it on a broken pen railing. Taking out a well-worn brush from a saddlebag, he began the process of carefully brushing down his mount. Many officers chose to use their men as servants, frequently having them carry out their grunt work. Even though he had been raised with servants tending to his every need, for Stiger, having his legionaries do his work just seemed … somehow wrong. These were fighting men, not slaves. Besides, Stiger preferred to get his hands dirty. Grunt work gave him the chance to think, process the day, and prepare for the next. More importantly, he knew it was important to set a good example. He wanted his men to see that their new captain was not above some manual work. If he attended to the smallest details, hopefully his men would do the same.
    Eli began working silently and meticulously on his own mount, Wind Runner. The elf’s horse, smaller in stature than Stiger’s, was a rare forest breed, highly prized amongst horse traders for their intelligence and sure-footedness. The two worked away, aware that the men in the barn were watching their every move. It was hardly unexpected.
    The men were afraid. They were frightened of what being commanded by a Stiger would mean. They wondered if they were to be ultimately sacrificed for the next generation of Stiger prestige and glory. The captain could read the doubt and fear in their eyes. The reality was much simpler than they imagined. He wasn’t interested in glory or fame. Stiger was simply intent on doing his duty to the empire. With duty came honor. To Ben Stiger, nothing was more important.
    He would need to work hard to gain their trust. To that end, the men would first need to once again believe in themselves. That would come after a lot of hard work. Hate and fear him they might; yet in the end they would become his men and he would become their captain.

Four
    Stiger had completed his morning toilet. It had included a badly needed shave conducted while seated on a large rock, alongside the stream. He ran a hand across his freshly shaved face with some satisfaction, as he checked his work with a small hand held mirror. Shaving in the field was a near art, especially if done well, which he had. He returned the mirror to his small toiletry bag and then filled his two canteens. He sat back on the rock and took a deep breath. He enjoyed the feeling of the crisp, cool morning air. The pervasive rain and humidity that had plagued the region for the past few days had moved on. Fall was nearly at hand, and this morning one could tell. Though winters in the South were mild compared to the North, there was a sense that the seasons were changing.
    Stiger looked up at the sky. The sun was nearly up and would soon begin making her daily climb, warming the land far below. He loved the quiet and tranquility of the early morning; it was why each day he made a point of rising early. The peacefulness would soon be shattered. It would end when the sergeants began waking the company.
    The captain stood, turned, and started walking back to the rundown farmhouse, where he had spent the previous night. He held the straps of his canteens and toiletry bag loosely with his right hand, swinging them slightly as he went. Today was his first real opportunity to begin getting the men into shape, and he felt a renewed sense of purpose as he approached the farmhouse. The day ahead promised to be a busy one. It would be hard work; a real challenge.
    He reached the back edge of the dilapidated farmhouse, running through in his mind what he needed to accomplish before starting work with the men. His sword needed oiling and his armor, which he had left next to his bedroll, needed some work as well. He also needed to put some time into his saddle for—
    The attack came without warning as he