Tiberius knew the truth of it. It was fortune, not struggle, that had found them where they were. For Tiberius alone, it was the true path of building. His own two hands, brick by brick, he'd used what he had around him to craft his way. He did not shy away from cruelty as others did. He acknowledged it to be necessary. Why ought a man to obey, if he did not fear you? What was power, without the cruelty that was to come with it?
It was that resoluteness that made him stand his ground. Him, of all people. He knew that his struggle was pointless, if he did it in the same way that they did. Where they simply stood there and swung, dead-eyed, praying to the Gods. But Tiberius did not struggle vainly, for even if the claws of the Pandora Goblin did not kill a man in an instant, they still had the poison to contend with.
