You look down at the ruined corpse of the old warlord. He had been a big man, standing at least ahead above you, with chestnut brown hair, shoulder length with a longer beard, now soaked in his own blood. He had a name once, but no one would remember it after today. You look at your hands, also covered in blood and grim, and smiled. Being honest with yourself, you hadn't seriously thought you'd win. Just that you had to stand against him. You look around at the crowd gathered around you. They stared in a shocked silence.

You raise your arms, and the crowd begins chanting your name. The noise is almost deafening after the solid silence, but still quiet welcome. It meant that his title was now yours, and no one would stand against you. It comes with great responsibilities concerning the welfare of your people as well as power over them and privileges among them. What should you do with your new power?