Part three of  exatron's commission! We're one away from the big finale, and the big cheetah keeps getting bigger. Again, DO NOT READ if you don't want the ending of a main story to Strength of a Thousand Men spoiled.

<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>

Daniel is ©  exatron
Story is © Moi

---

Daniel blinked. He could barely believe what the Centurion, Maximus, was saying. The man that had invaded Daniel's village was now declaring him an Exarch of the Palamani Dominion. “Wait, what?”

“That’s how the Dominion works. The strongest lead.” Maximus glanced over at the unconscious Claudius. “Clearly, you were stronger…” He frowned, as it took four soldiers to push the gryphon’s body off the column, and then drag him through the open door, in which the gryphon got stuck. “...if not the bigger.”

“But… hold on, I’m not… how can I? I don’t know anything about running a city or a province!” Daniel sputtered. “I’m not Palamani!”

“You’ve protected Kabir Al-Fahd for centuries, and you’re stronger than dozens of men. Trust me, you qualify for the Palamani.” Maximus grinned. “You might be better suited than Claudius, at any rate.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Daniel challenged, glaring down at Maximus.

One of Claudius’ administration approached, clearing her voice. “I’m afraid you may not have much of a choice.”

Daniel turned to face a sturdily built vixen. She was probably the most conservatively dressed Palamani he had yet seen, with a heavy shawl draped over her broad shoulders and a long, flowing robe. She bowed to the cheetah. “I am Victoria, of the Diviners.”

“The Diviners?”

“Priests,” Maximus supplied. “Founded by Valentulus himself. Their order was to divine the return of the God of the Strong; now they serve as his priests.”

Victoria nodded. “I am afraid that it may have been my doing that drew Claudius’ ire to your village.”

Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Diviners have interpreted the meaning of Valentulus’ writings for as long as the Dominion has stood. One such prophecy is one of revival; that the God of the Strong will call upon Avatars of Strength to cleanse the Palamani of corruption and weakness. Claudius believed he was this supposed Avatar. He drank Jidou by the barrel-full, and did nothing but eat to become ever larger. When he heard about this eternally strong guardian in some distant village, he feared he had competition.” Victoria gave Daniel’s muscular body an appraising look. “He was right.”

Daniel’s tail swished in an agitated fashion. “I don’t want to be Roland’s Avatar, or whatever. I want to go home.”

Victoria looked the cheetah in the eye. “Valentulus III thinks he was supposed to be the Avatar, as well; the Diviners in the Temple of the Strong in Virtus are all sycophants and tell him so. With the Centratus Sea in their way, it will take weeks for messengers to reach the Imperator’s ear, but when it does, he will send wave after wave of Legions to destroy you.”

Daniel sighed. “And Kabir Al-Fahd.”

The Diviner nodded.

The cheetah threw up his arms. “Great, then. So I need to take down another like Claudius?”

“Valentulus is even bigger; and knows how to handle his size.”

“I’ll need to get bigger then, too.” Daniel said, his jaw set. “You said Claudius drunk your Jidou juice by the barrel, right?”

“Water. Jidou water.” Maximus muttered.

Daniel shook his head. “Whatever. Does he still have a stockpile of it?”

Victoria scoffed. “Enough to fill a lake. It’s in the kitchens.”

“Right. I’m going to need all of it.” Daniel started for the door, then looked back at Victoria. “Why are you helping me, anyways?”

The Diviner shrugged. “The choices for the Avatar of Strength were you, Claudius, and Valentulus III. I’ve barely met you and I can tell you that you’re a better man than them, though that’s no small feat.”

Daniel nodded. The Exarch’s former staff, mostly slaves, were quickly informed of the new change in management, and quickly scraped and bowed as Daniel passed. He faced no opposition as he flung open the doors of a cellar in the kitchens, a collection of low, dimly lit rooms he had to bend down in, but there in the cellar, even he was taken aback.

Wall-to-wall, stacked in great piles that scraped the ceiling, with barely enough room for a Palamani to squeeze by in between the piles, were great casks, filled to the brim with Jidou water.

“You weren’t kidding,” Daniel said to Victoria. “There’s enough of your water in here to flood a house.”

“The Exarch was known for his ability to gather resources,” the Diviner responded mildly.

With a near negligent slash of his claws, Daniel tore off the lid of one of the casks standing up-right, and tipped his claw in the liquid. Sampling it, he immediately snarled, and spit it out. “This isn’t right.”

Victoria frowned. “Whatever do you mean?” The Priestess moved to the cask, and sampled it herself. A look of dreadful realization fell across her face as she spat it out.

“You taste it too.”

Victoria nodded. “Though very few would be able to.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It was a hundred years ago… when Roland deposed the false God Edathan. Part of the Stranger’s plot was to poison the Jidou water and… corrupt it. No wonder Claudius was as monstrous as he was. This is troubling, to say the least. Because I know where this Jidou came from.”

“Where?”

Victoria looked up at Daniel. “The Imperator. Claudius has been stealing from Valentulus III’s stockpile. They were rivals; Claudius sought to level the playing field by drinking the same quality the Imperator did.”

Daniel frowned. “So the leader of your nation is… corrupted?”

Victoria nodded. “If he’s drinking this, undoubtedly. I only have one question; how did you know this Jidou was corrupted? The difference in taste and smell are very slight. Most would not be able to tell them apart, until it is far too late. Diviners are trained to spot the differences… but as far as I know, you had no such training.”

“I just… know.” Daniel said.

“You’ve been touched by him, haven’t you? Roland has come to you!”

“No!” Daniel protested. “Even if, IF he did, I…” Daniel sighed. “I’ve seen him. In my dreams.”

“Is this why you’ve been in that small village all this time? You’re afraid of facing your destiny?”

“I’m not afraid. I resent it.” Daniel looked down at the Jidou. “I know about Roland. He came to me when I was thirteen years old, and, boom, suddenly I’m the village freak. I was ostracized for centuries. And for what? So Roland as a god could reach out to me three centuries before his own birth to keep as a back-up? At least Kabir Al-Fahd appreciates me.”

Victoria tapped the side of the barrel for a moment. “Then you must do this for Kabir Al-Fahd. The village will never be safe so long as Valentulus III knows you draw breath. Is it really so bad if you save a nation and fulfill a prophecy in the mix as well?”

Daniel sighed. “No. I suppose not. At least this Jidou isn’t going to go to waste… it’ll be foul, but I can handle it.”

“What? No!” Victoria put herself between Daniel and the Jidou. “You don’t understand. It’ll poison your mind.”

“No, not mine.” Daniel tapped his forehead. “My divine acquaintance has given me… an instinct. I know when things will threaten people, and when they’ll threaten me. That’s what makes me such a good guardian for Kabir Al-Fahd.” He gently brushed Victoria aside, placing both hands on the cask. “It’ll taste like death and give me a nasty case of indigestion, but it won’t corrupt my mind. And it’ll make me stronger.”

“You really are the Avatar of Strength, then.” Victoria murmured in a breath of wonder.

“Certainly seems that way.” Daniel grumbled, before sticking his head into the cask and drinking deeply.

It was an hour before Daniel returned, gorged on Claudius’ Jidou. Though there was not any change in his already huge build, he moved with more energy and vigor, with three casks under his tensed arms. As he threw open the doors to the throne room, he pointed a clawed finger at Maximus. “Maxy!”

The eagle looked up from his perch, a window ledge overlooking the gardens of the Caliph’s Palace. “Exarch?”

“No, not me. You.”

“What? But…”

Daniel held up his hand. “You know the Palamani politics better than me, and you probably know Al-Barrad better than me, too; at least, the Al-Barrad of the past two hundred years. You want to look the part, though, say no more.” Daniel slammed the casks down on the floor. “This is the only clean Jidou I found in Claudius’ stockpile, all high-grade, straight from the Imperator, apparently. The rest was corrupted.”

“Wait, wait. Corrupted? The Imperator’s?” The Centurion’s beak was agape.

Daniel nodded. “I’m afraid this got more complicated. I’m going after Valentulus III.”

“And… and what, take over the Dominion?” Maximus sputtered.

“Haven’t gotten that far yet. I’ll let you know after I win. Can I trust you not to go back on your word over Kabir Al-Fahd?” Daniel loomed over Maximus. “You’ve done a lot to improve my opinion of you, Maxy. I’d hate to see that go away.”

“I… of course. I gave my word.” Maximus feathers rustled at the very idea he would break a promise.

“Then we’re good.” Daniel grinned. “Drink up, get big, and relax. You’ll probably make a good Exarch.” He winked. “Maybe your new position means you can send for your girl and get her out of Vetus Remera, right?”

Maximus blinked. “I… I certainly hope so. Ah, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I haven’t actually done anything, not yet,” the cheetah turned to Victoria. “Are you going to be coming along? I could use an expert in Roland to tell me what my next step ought to be… like, where I should go from here.”

Victoria stroked her chin, crossing her arms. “It wouldn’t hurt to try to contact Roland directly. Virtus is out of the question, with the Imperator so well-entrenched in the capital. Nova Remera’s too far away…” she snapped her fingers. “We’ll go to Sarrant. Roland’s birthplace. There’s a shrine at the house he was born in that is of particular importance. If you can commune with him anywhere, it would be there.”

Daniel looked from Victoria to a slightly bewildered Maximus before taking a deep breath. “Then Sarrant it is.”

Getting out of Ras-Almal wasn’t difficult. Regardless if Daniel or Maximus was the Exarch, anything in the city would be given to the cheetah without question. Chartering a barge large enough to accommodate the muscular cheetah and his newly acquired supply of Jidou with room to grow on the long voyage was a simple, if lengthy process. As their ship was prepared, Daniel and Victoria joined Maximus for at least one night in the palace with comfortable amenities. The city of Ras-Almal responded to the overthrow of Exarch Claudius relatively quiet; the locals were on edge, but the Palamani were used to the handing over of power in such a fashion. The strongest had prevailed, and the Palamani system continued to work as intended.

Daniel managed to slip out of Ras-Almal without much fanfare; Maximus and a small compliment of guards led him to the sprawling, low-lying barge sitting in the harbor. The single, large sail that dominated the top deck was red and sported a massive Palamani sigil. It was triangular, as well, used more for steering and maneuvering than speed; that fell on the three tiers of rowers, and the eighty tree-sized oars half-way in the water.

“Try not to sink the ship.” Maximus said as he followed Daniel up the gangplank. “And if you would? A small favor.” He produced a scroll with a red seal on it. “Just take this to the first post office you see in Dominion territory. It’ll get to Remera just fine from there. It’s for my daughter.”

Daniel gave Maximus a light punch in the arm; it still sent the muscular eagle stumbling. “Try to bulk up a bit while I’m gone. And again, one bad thing in Kabir Al-Fahd…”

“I know, I know, you’ll crush me.” Maximus cleared his throat. “Try to avoid dying, too.”
“Are you worried about me, Maxy?”

The eagle scoffed. “As if I would care for some savage that lived in a cave.”

“Perish the thought.” Daniel grinned.

The next week at sea was surprisingly more gruelling than traversing across the arid savannah. Victoria, it turned out, was a harsh taskmistress, and despite the size difference between her and the cheetah that towered over everyone on board, Daniel never once considered saying no to her. If he was not fighting back the urge to gag on the foul Jidou water or eating vast amounts of meat, fish, eggs, nuts, and vegetables, he was lifting whatever strained him. When rigging the sail on his own wasn’t enough, he was lifting the anchor, and in the final leg of the voyage, he was forced to swim alongside the ship, his powerful arms and legs propelling him along and keeping his overly dense body above water as long as possible. The Jidou, corrupted and foul though it was, was also extremely potent, and alongside Victoria’s punishing regime of constant movement, discipline, and exercise, the cheetah’s body was growing in the best possible way. He wasn’t becoming lopsided or oversized like Claudius, but a true work of art to the Palamani crew that watched him grow.

When the gangplank finally touched the harbor of Sarrant, it nearly splintered under Daniel’s weight. The cheetah was at a truly monumental size, every part of his body roped with colossal mounds of bulging muscle. His head was the peak of a great mountain, sitting atop shoulders swollen to such a size that they devoured his neck, and were very close to brushing against his cheek. This lofty summit was buttressed by a sheer cliff-face of a chest, jutting out far beyond the cheetah’s muzzle and curving out with the sheer mass of muscle packed into it. His slightest breath sent strong tendons straining and flexing all across his vast torso, with a canyon-like cleft between his pecs. Arms thicker than the ship’s mast, thicker than most Palamani’s waists, framed his torso, so heavy with muscle they sat on an angle, propped up by biceps great as boulders, grinding against his pecs and pushing back against the vast foundation of his triceps. Abs large as bricks, packed tightly like a strong wall against each other, tapered down to vast legs. The cheetah’s thighs alone were as wide and vast as the kegs of Jidou water that had fed them, bulging and flexing with tremendous power with every step, and tapered down to calves as spherical as globes.

Victoria, standing behind the cheetah, could only marvel as his back blotted out the sun. It was a sprawling topography of hills, canyons, and peaks of muscle, littered with warped spots and sun-kissed fur stretched taut over the mammoth expanse. If nothing else, Daniel looked more Palamani, if begrudgingly so. His loincloth simply couldn’t keep up with the growth of his legs and waist, and finally snapped; a new kilt had to be made out of spare red cloth from the sail, and a massive leather belt with a great, gilded buckle left behind from Claudius kept the kilt wrapped around his waist. Another strap of cloth made a sash, that somehow managed to traverse the arduous trek across the cheetah’s gargantuan torso.

There were only two parts left unchanged; Daniel’s spectacles remained perched on his muzzle, seeming almost comically small compared to the muscle surrounding it, and his long brown hair, now tied back into a ponytail. Adjusting his spectacles, Daniel stepped on to the stone pier and looked over the port of Sarrant.