Chapter 2

King of the Geats

Beowulf stepped out onto the sand and grinned. His teeth were stained yellow on account that he never brushed them. They were jagged like a row of dilapidated gravestones. His eyes were hard and cold. He wore fine armor. "We must rule this land. It is God's will." Everything that Beowulf wished or went well for him was automatically considered to be the will of the Lord.

He looked around at the new civilization. It was still new. Weak.

Perfect.

And so less than a week into his stay on Spauldingopolis, Beowulf waged a holy war unto the island. His reason was (as usual) was that it was God's will.

It didn't last long, Creon's new army were still inexperienced and were plowed through by Beowulf's army like a knife through hot butter.

After only a month, Creon and his men were as good as dead. The smell of smoke was everywhere. Sights of death and carnage were all around. Dead bodies littered the street while entire villages were covered in flame.

Creon was seized for being a traitor and was to be brought to Beowulf to be dealt with personally.

Beowulf looked forward to this.

Creon was brought into Beowulf's throne room beaten and bruised. One eye was swollen shut. His lip was split open, and some of his teeth were missing. He was a man defeated.

Beowulf sat on Creon's throne and looked down at the fallen ruler. He got up and bowed respectfully. He dropped his sword in front of Creon.

"I won't need a sword." Beowulf explained. "I have the power of God on my side."

"Do you now?" Creon said in his hoarse voice.

"I can crush with you my bare hands if I so wished!" Beowulf continued as if he didn't hear.

"For a good Christian like you…" said Creon. "There are an awful lot of rumors that you made a pact with the devil for your unlimited power."

Beowulf's nostrils flared. "You will pay for such lies, infidel!"

Creon grinned. "If it is God's will for you to rule in my place, then it will also be his for your empire to fall into ruin as all tyrants do."

"You dare not mock me!" Beowulf screeched. "You don't dare!" Forgetting his boast from before, he grabbed his sword and began plunging it into Creon again and again until he was dead.

When Beowulf was done, everything around him was red with blood. Normally he would have enjoyed such a sight, but he got no satisfaction from Creon's death.

Beowulf dropped his bloody sword onto the floor and sat down on his throne with his head in his hands.

The Dark Age had begun.