A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 325: The Birth of a Leader - Part 1

That last word stung, for it was that wounded boy that Beam related to most, that shaped his identity. He felt those words resonate with truth. He'd been afraid to take command, truly. He'd played at it before, as Dominus told him too…. But that was different, in Beam's eyes.

He'd merely been functioning as a helper, a guardian for the village – even then, he'd failed, and that failure had almost crushed his heart.

He'd overcome that by doing what he could. He thought he was sure that was the right answer. To lead was to be arrogant, and self-assured… Beam had nothing but doubts. He couldn't be the kind of leader that they demanded he be. The kind of leader that made the whole group his body. The kind that represented their wills, and was capable of doing whatever it took to carry them out.

But they were so united now – the crowd pushed for it. He could feel the emotions of their hearts better than any other, through Ingolsol and Claudia. By the same gravity that governed battle, they demanded a representative. Hundreds of eyes dragged him towards that position expectantly. They'd seen what he was capable of. They wanted to see him do more.

They demanded it of him.

It was a terrifying thing. They said, not as an individual, as a societal force: "You are the strong – represent us."

In those words was an implicit threat. The same threat that caused the death of the dominant ape – the threat that the second he stepped out of line, that he failed to represent the group, this force of the group that now empowered him, raised him up, and demanded higher skill – it would turn on him, and it would crush him.

"Coward," his darkest self said again, a self different even from Ingolsol.

Beam clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. He reached a hand back towards his shoulder. He could feel the warm blood straight away. The body was cut to pieces. Half of the injuries that he had should have been near-fatal, should they not get treated straight away. Yet Beam's mind danced with ridicule, it demanded more from him.

In a single day, it had walked a path of several lifetimes, and still, it was unsatisfied. Everything that made Beam what he was was having its say. The fire in him that burned stronger than any other fire, that went beyond the concept of suffering, beyond everything, towards something that even approached greed. His own soul condemned him, and told him, this wasn't good enough.

The people that he'd run from for many years, he could see the strength of their anvil, the strength of their hammer. The people, the group, they sought to beat his sword into shape.

Everything had more meaning. Everything seemed to connect towards that single point, it seemed to point in that direction. The fear of command, the fear of failure, the absolute disgust that he felt with himself for taking command of the lives of so many people, for using them according to his will, for becoming what Ingolsol dared him to be, he finally spat out his reply.

"Fine."

Words said through gritted teeth, from a tongue slathered in its own blood. Ingolsol and Claudia had finally come to an agreement. Both the greatest hero and the worst villain, he was at the centre of the people, and he directed them towards his purpose.

The villain did it with deceit, the hero did it with competence, when society demanded it of him. Beam drew that sword out of the demands of both. The part of his soul that delighted in power, and the part of his soul that was ready to accept responsibility for a group of people, to become their will.

The people forsook their individual wills, in the unconscious kneeling towards a greater force, towards what they trusted would bring them better results. An instinct that went all the way back down to ants.

Beam drew in a deep breath, seeking to contain all those thoughts that rushed around his newly reignited spirit. He closed his eyes as he drew it in.

He held it for a moment, as his heart beat slowly and strongly.

And then he let it out again, along with all his doubts. With it, Beam arose again, a transformed man.

The look in his eyes changed. The strength returned to his body, exceeding previous limits. All that he was, finally returned into alignment. His aura transformed.

Gorm felt the shift from his spot on the battlefield, and his eyes widened. An immobile Lombard lay next to him, his eyes closed, a gash across his middle, and his sword arm gone, spilling blood.

"Gods…" He muttered, before reluctantly pointing his feet towards the village. "Apologies, Jok. I'm going to have to intervene."

The villagers gathered on the outskirts of Jok's encirclement. Beam left the shadows to join them.

He exchanged a look with a middle-aged man, as he walked through the line of people. The man's eyes widened for a moment, but then returned to their sternness, offering him a firm nod. Beam returned it. The other looked to the exchange, and nodded to him as well.

No words needed to be said, for it was an outcome decided by the majority. They'd all settled on this. They'd seen their path to leadership under Beam's command. He left the shadows, and entered the light to represent them.

He stood tall, and alone, as the others hung back behind him. Jok stared at him with narrowed eyes, feeling that something had changed, once again, and he felt a bitterness arising in his chest from it. "What the hell is with this bastard?" Jok murmured. "He'd never met someone so inconsistent in all his life."

And then the villagers stepped forward to join him.

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A trickle at first. An old man, then a woman, then a portly butcher, none of which looked as though they belonged on the battlefield, but all of them had a fire in their eyes, as though they were possessed.

More and more came out to join them, from all sides of the encirclement. They didn't all stand physically behind him, but it was more than clear from their positioning who their leader was.

Jok turned his head to look behind him. Just as in front of him, he estimated there to be a hundred villagers. There must have been another fifty at either end of the square too, on the road, where those criminals had gathered.

"The fuck is...?" Jok murmured to himself, trying to process the change that he was seeing, as more and more of them entered the light.