Assessment

The day after my encounter with the bull, we started to rebuild. The tribe that we found the Freemen residing with praised us for our quick arrival. Of my personal century’s casualties, twelve were injured and eight were slain. As for the Freemen, the sustained heavy casualties. Of the original group of slaves that fled Akari, only a small handful survived. Less than a fraction of what I hoped. The tribe that they had found took them with friendship in their hearts and were cut down as a result. It appeared that the Bull and his warband had discovered the village accidently. I don’t know if I had made an impression during our first battle in the canyon, but after that recent battle, I was all too sure that he would remember me in the future.

I did not go unscathed in the battle of course. My body was bruised, battered and beaten. Despite my body wanting to fail, I refused to use any type of crutch. I wouldn’t let myself waste away in some bed like uneaten fruit in a bowl. I would be bold as a lion and just as defiant. None would see me in my weakened state. For all anyone ever knew, I was alright. Though my anger towards the Bull only grew from there. It laid within my heart, entangling and choking it like some weed strangling the life out of a plant. At the mere thought of facing the bull again I felt like I had to repay every bruised rib; every slash from his sword, every single offense he gave me.

Do not mistake me. It wasn’t fear that gripped at my heart and caused me to think about that barbarian nonstop. I didn’t fear him. It was a quiet rage. A consuming thirst for revenge that hounded me. I would get my revenge, and I’d refuse to let myself be humiliated like that ever again. But that was the future. At that time, I had to assess what I had lost. After the dead were buried, I made my way to the chieftain of the tribe that took in the Freeman in their hour of need. The old chieftain was killed by the bull in battle. His son was now the head of the tribe. He was a young man who barely had any idea of what leadership was truly like. One surviving elder as old as the dirt and stone under his feet gave him guidance. I was flanked by two Ophidian guards.

When I entered the new chieftain’s hut, he was praying to his idol that was made of wood. Ever more apparent was the fact that the buildings themselves —though damaged— were still newer compared to the chieftain’s hut. The Freemen were responsible for things like the windmill and the new architecture of the village. The main resource those primitives had was themselves; manpower above all else.

Next to the young chieftain was the elder who coddled him and comforted him. He petted the young man’s back with a withered gnarled limb that looked less like a body part and more like the branch of a dead tree. I gave them a few moments before I let my presence be known to them. The young man dried his eyes and turned to me. He tried to form the words in our common tongue together, though he spoke with low confidence.

“Never… got chance. Me thank. You…” He trailed off, having gotten lost in his words for a moment. He snapped his fingers and found it. “Hero. You hero.”

I crossed my arms behind my back and looked around the hut. I admired the ancient wood carvings of this ancestral hut. It was a primitive display of talent, but a display nonetheless. Though it pained me, I walked towards the young chieftain, but the elder stood between us. The young chieftain looked down at the ground sheepishly. I had a good look at the chieftain. He was no man. Despite his age, I saw no man standing before me. Only a child. A boy who was a pale imitation of a nobler man. That boy was no warrior. The only spear he chucked or club he swung was at imaginary enemies and his teachers. When the chieftain looked back up at me, I could see his eyes. He hadn’t even killed a man. He must have been hiding some place. But the boy could learn. He had to.

The elder spoke to me in his native tongue. I couldn’t understand it. It was like the jibberings of some drunken old fool. This man was more of a scarecrow rather than a fighter. He might have been mighty back in his prime, but those days were long dead. Now the man that stood before me seemed far more helpless and frail than I had ever been. My ribs were bruised and even standing still I could feel a dull pain in my body, and yet even in my current state all that I would need to do was gently sneeze on the old man and he’d fall down like a lame horse freshly put out of its misery.

The chieftain tried to translate.

“Nuuru blame outsiders. Nuuru say you go.”

I shook my head in denial. This “Nuuru” was wanting to blame everyone and everything since the culprits fled, and I was the only one who could have a finger or two pointed at them.

“The Bull would have come forth and slaughtered you all anyway. It's because of my warriors that you’re all still able to breathe. Because of me, you’re all able to see another sunrise tomorrow. You should be thanking me.”

Nuuru the elder just continued to blather up a storm. He continued to yell and chant and scream everything he could into my ear. Even if he had been speaking my language he would still be difficult to understand over how fast the old man spoke. Finally, the young chieftain cleared his throat.

“People belong you save us. Nuuru says you leave. No come back.”

I looked at the old man and glared at him. He needed to be careful. His rage could cost him very dearly. I sighed through my nose, trying to contain my own rage. I had not survived my hard fought battle just to be nagged at by some old codger. I let my frustration out in a sigh and then looked at the chieftain, not even interested in talking to the old man.

“Your people will die without me. Worse than dying, in fact. Without my protection, the bull will return and will lay this village to waste. Your women will be dragged by their hair and defiled while your children are forced into slavery and what's left of your men slaughtered like sacrificial lambs.”

After I put the fear into the young chief, he gulped hard as if he were swallowing stones. He came closer to me and looked deep into my eyes.

“What you do? What we do? How you help?”

“Simple.” I stated in a simple matter of fact tone. My lip curled in a little smile. “Serve me. I will uplift your people to staggering heights. This tribe will be no more. From the ashes of this village, a new city will emerge. A new empire.”

“And what will happen to our people then? Hm?” The old man sneered at me, finally speaking in the common tongue.

“Ah!” I said as I turned to the withered goat. “So you can speak. I was beginning to think you were the village idiot, or just a foolish old man speaking gibberish.”

Stolen story; please report.

“I speak my language because I dislike dirtying my tongue with yours. After what your warriors brought upon us all. You bring death; destruction, pain, and evil upon all of our heads!”

“It was not my army that burned your village. In fact: if I remember correctly, I think it was my army that actually saved your people from total destruction.”

“Oh please…” scoffed the elder. “You are just like them. We simply trade one conqueror for another. You want us to bow to you after saving our lives?”

“You need to change. You need to evolve.”

“We need you gone. That's that.”

“N-Nuuru…” The young chieftain said as he placed his hand on the thin withered arms of the elder, only for the elder to shake the chieftain off of him.

“I can see it in his eyes! He is evil! He speaks of peace and bringing order, but those pretty words mean nothing! My people suffer, and you speak of turning my tribe into something else! Into what?!”

“As I said, old man… you will be made better. Stronger. This village will be the birthplace of a new kingdom. Your old ways are no longer working. You need something new. Something that will last long after eternity’s end.” I paced around the room, envisioning my rule. Oh I had gone far beyond my station. My ambition soared higher than the clouds could touch. At that moment, I thought to myself: “Who could touch me when I stand so high? Who could bring me down?”

“You are a madman.” The old man said through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “The world is not for you to rule. Your arrogance will be the death of you.”

I placed my hands behind my back and gripped my wrists tightly. Even through the pain of what the bull had done to me, I could feel the spikes of my crucifixion nails burn in my flesh.

“You have no choice but to adapt. If I leave, the bull will come and destroy not only your people but your very way of life. It would be the same as if your people were to never have lived at all. Through me, your history is preserved.”

“Preserved?! You would erase what makes my people unique! We would simply vanish in your numbers, drowned out by your gluttonous shadow!”

“I would be careful if I were you.” I warned Nuuru. My patience was slowly ebbing away like sands in an hourglass. Despite my warnings, the old man continued to protest.

“I know what lies in your soul. You would crush our throats with your foot. You would turn our ancestral home into an idol for yourself. You are no savior. You are no champion of the people. You are a tyrant in the making.”

I scowled. My praetorian guards quickly rested their hands on the pommels of their blades. I stood firmly as I glared at the old man who barked at me like a rabid dog. My anger continued to build. I wanted to shut that windbag up. How dare he condemn me after I saved his people? How dare he belittle me in front of my guards and call me a tyrant? He was as ungrateful as they came. He continued to babble on with his condemnations.

“My brothers would be alive if your people had not come here to begin with! You think you are like the eagle, soaring high above the clouds, untethered to the ground, but you will be made humble. Your wings will be clipped. If we are to fade away, then we will do so with our heads held high. For the Gods will know of our sacrifice, and their memory is prized beyond any mans. You would do far worse to us than butcher us. You would destroy our souls.”

Would that old man not just be silent? All I heard was constant complaining. "Oh poor Me. Oh my poor people. How could it come to this?" He came closer to me. I could smell his feted breath as he spoke. The last threads of my patience slipped further and further between my fingers. Yet he persisted.

“Go. Slither back from whence you came. We may die, but we will die free.”

He then spat in my face. At that moment, all reason left me. Any trace of civility flew out from the tent. I growled and rushed forth, pinning the old man to his precious idol. With my free hand, I pulled my sword out and thrusted it within his chest, piercing through him and the idol. I stuck him against the wall like a proclamation. My proclamation. The young chieftain let out a scream. He backed away and his heart pounded in his chest.

I stood there for a moment, enjoying the sight of that old fool’s eyes showing me fear and pain. I imagined that same look in the eyes of the Bull. Whatsmore, I imagined seeing that look upon the face of Legatus Tempest as I repay him for nailing me to a cross. That delicious look as I would pin him against the solid wood and drive my own nail through him. The life from the old man’s eyes finally left him. I stepped backwards. I had not only stabbed the old man, but the idol.

I panted loudly after that experience. I looked downward at my hand and saw that it was crimson red with the elder’s blood. I continued to pant and try to catch my breath. The praetorians relaxed and stood firm. With maddened, wild eyes I turned to face the chieftain. With my bloody hand outstretched, the palm facing down on the ground, I raised my hand up and then lowered it as he stared at me with an awe struck fear.

“Kneel…”

The boy quivered as he looked at me. Fear welled up in his eyes and his legs shook. Finally, he knelt down before me. I walked over to him. I placed my hand on his cheek, smearing the old man’s blood over his face and looked at him deep into his eyes so that he would never forget my words.

“Serve me, and I will make you into warriors. Whatever your people were before, they are now part of something greater. Do you understand?”

He simply stared at me and nodded. I stepped away. I turned to the old man who was pinned to the idol still like a grim reminder of my words. I placed my foot on the wall and used it as leverage to aid me when I wrested the sword out from the old man. He fell to the ground and a pool of blood formed under him. My sword was coated red. I swung the sword and splattered blood over the damaged idol and the chieftain. I gestured for a praetorian to come forth. I took a bit of his cloak and used it to dry my sword off just a bit more before I placed the sword back in its sheath.

I gestured for one of the praetorian’s to carry the old man’s body while the other took the chieftain aside. We all stepped outside to meet a crowd. They had heard the commotion from within and now saw the result. Their last elder lay dead in the arms of the Ophidian guard. I snapped my fingers and pointed to the ground in front of me. The old man’s corpse was tossed there. I whistled and Sweetroll came. She looked at me and wagged her reptilian tail. I showed her the corpse of the old man, and instinct naturally followed. As Sweetroll started to eat, I looked at the chieftain.

“Translate every word that I say.”

With that small command, he obeyed. He repeated my words to those who could not understand me. I would give them a very important lesson that day.

“Change is coming. We fight against it and yet it arrives all the same. The choice is yours if that change is for good or ill. The Bull, the one who attacked you for my sake, will return one day. We will be ready. Your elder refused to change. He would have seen you die off and fade from existence. I will see you uplifted. You will be trained: you will fight, you will be armored, you will be given our finest weapons, you will gain victory for our new station. We are independent, and we will establish ourselves as a mighty empire.”

“The old ways served you well, but like your elders, those days are dead. You must move beyond the current weakness you have. I will make you strong. I will make you great! I will make you invincible!”

With the wisdom of the great serpent, his words were my words. It was as if he spoke through me. I was filled with confidence and unbreaking resolve. They feared me, and yet they respected me. My words were reaching them.

“Whatever tribe you belong to, you are part of something greater now. Rather than live in huts of straw and wood, I will give you a kingdom of marble! From the ashes of the Bull’s humiliation of us all, a new people will rise! You will know victory after victory! In fact, I say that you will grow sick and tired of our constant victories! I will drown you with glory!”

“My name is Hadrian Damoclesian. I am your Kai’Sar! Serve me; serve the great serpent Ile’Sethak, and I promise you that you will prosper. We will find the Bull, and we will have our revenge!”

And thus my ears were filled with the sounds of cheers. How easily they forsook their elder and his backwards thinking. The sight of my pet devouring him became less shocking and more of a spectacle. Who would be foolish enough to deny what I offer? It would be the same as a man dying in the desert and meeting a man with water, only to knock that water out of his would-be savior’s hands.

In all my days, I remember that to be one of my most fond memories. The day that the first of those tribes bent the knee to me. The first to know what true glorious conquest would be like. Others would follow in time, but you never forget your first. Sweeter than any wine, more succulent than any rich man’s meal. At that moment, I had finally risen from a condemned prisoner doomed to die on a cross to something more. Pride filled my heart, as I built my new kingdom.

I told the praetorians to send a message to the other Ophidians back in their subterranean world. By the time they arrived, that lowly village would be the cradle of something entirely new.