Like clockwork, the apprentices that were performing their duties as servants of the Shaman were standing at the door of the longhouse in the morning. The poor things were as confused as the rest of the tribal leaders since the day things went hay wire. They weren't able to understand why the Shaman had, all of a sudden, lost all the respect for their undisputed leader but they knew better than to delve in these politics so they delivered the informal invitation to Baka and were on their way back. The Chief didn't expect anything of productive nature happening in the temple while the Shaman presided over it but he went anyway. Who knew what that arrogant moron might do when his ego is threatened in front of the other puppets? In some corner of his heart the Chief was finding it a bit amusing to see the Shaman run around like a headless chicken. All those years of sloth and extortion had taken their toll. When the moment to utilize the arsenal of connections, diplomacies, strategies and mercenaries finally arrived, he had turned out to be hollow.
The Chief entered the temple to see the makeshift conference room heavily guarded as usual. As he entered the room, the Shaman did nothing to acknowledge his arrival. He munched on a roasted duck like a wild beast while the others watched him, waiting for him to finish so they can get back to being abused. The door closed behind him as Baka walked to the table. The Shaman started talking with his mouth full as soon as the Chief took a seat.
"I am sending out the entire garrison to finish off that coward. There is no use for them sitting around anyways. It's not like we are gonna fight a war any time soon. Our boys had found him yesterday, on the edge of the river before he mysteriously disappeared again", the Shaman declared, his full mouth spraying food everywhere as he did. He expected some retaliation from the Chief as commanding the guards and army was not in the authority of a Shaman but was specifically born by the Chief, but the retaliation never came and Baka kept fidgeting his ancestral jewelry. "And you morons can finally make yourselves useful and send out a word to your tribes to do the same!", he continued, now facing the tribal leaders who rushed out of the room as soon as they received the order.
Soon there was only Shaman and the Chief left in the room. Tai observed him and expected some sort of retort but the Chief kept on playing with his thumb ring, a significant part of the royal attire that he had inherited through his father. A part of him wanted the Chief to react, just so he could threaten him once more and feel the trance of having the upper hand, if not for anything else.
"So, are you gonna order the warriors or must I do that as well?", the Shaman erupted.
"If my warriors are dumb enough to follow anything that comes to them as an order, the consequences are on them", the Chief said without taking his eyes from the ring.
The Shaman stood up and put his hands on the table as he gazed into the Chief's soul. "At last, your name is going to be of some use. I shall use your decree to order them", he fired back with an overpowering disgust he felt using the Chief's name as he saw him incompetent for the title.
The Chief stood up as well and strolled around the table with his eyes shifting from wall to wall and ceiling to ceiling, as if in deep thought. He took his time and gave his input.
"Do as you please. But I would further suggest that you accompany and lead them, it will raise their morale to see their religious leader lead them into the hunt for the blasphemer", he still didn't dignify the Shaman with an eye contact.
The Shaman expected an insult but was greeted with an excellent advice which just might cement his place as a people's man in the heart of the villagers and give him a way to usurp the throne when the time comes. The Shaman day dreamed of having his own tapestry hanging in the temple depicting him of beheading some multiheaded beast terrorizing the village, such was the nature of historical accuracy of depictions in the rest of the tapestries. Just the thought of having all the power, gold, women, land and people at his disposal made his mouth water. The Chief could sense it but he chose to let him dream. The Shaman soon snapped out of it and wondered why would the Chief give him such an idea that would without a doubt benefit Tai and make way for his own downfall?
The Shaman let out a roar of laughter and shouted, "Better late than never, boy! One should never bash his head on a rock knowing the rock might break but not before breaking his head in the process".
He rejoiced the fact that the Chief had conceded to his superiority and stepped out of his way of becoming the de facto chief of the region. The tribal leaders were already in his firm grasp. All he needed was the Chief and that feat had just been achieved. He put on his religious gear, grabbed his staff and took off to the barracks right next to the Temple, in a frenzy as he couldn't wait to feel the power of ordering the trained warriors to take a life. Just as he was quite literally dancing in anticipation, the Chief sensed that the Shaman was too zoned out to even acknowledge his presence so he took a seat and watched him hop out of the room.
In a moment, the Chief was all alone in the expansive room. He wore back all the jewelry that he had laid on the table and left the room. As he did, he informed the guards outside, that the room was now empty and they now could abandon their positions. The guards took off immediately and obediently. It angered him to realize that the ignorant, fanatic, heartless and criminally insane Shaman was just inches away from that level of authority. His own guards accompanied him as soon as he was out of the room. The more he walked away from the room, the more he felt the lava inside him boil.
As he entered the longhouse, the guards who had escorted him there, stayed outside and the guards of the inner longhouse took over. He strolled through the corridor and saw his elderly mother hunched in the corner of her tiny room, dusting the miniature statues of the demigods. The inside of the room was barely visible. Only a few dimly lit candles struggled to maintain the visibility as miniscule as it was. The room was extremely tidy and not one thing seemed out of place. The tapestries and artworks on the walls of the tiny room were optimally placed and dusted, all of this being without the help of any servants as the Chief's mother preferred to do the chores herself. The tidiness of the room was of no surprise because she had been deprived of any other duty so it was the only business she had clung onto to keep her sanity intact. He walked inside and she stood up instantly to greet him. He absolutely hated to see his mother bowing down to him but she was helpless. In the larger part of her age, she had been accustomed to bowing down to the chiefs, then her husband and ultimately her own son. It was now engraved in her nature. He greeted her back but only received a hollow smile in return. The wise, loving mother he had once known was long dead inside the earthly shell. She just awaited her demise and that crushed the chief. She turned back and resumed her routine of dusting and cleaning the artifacts. He slowly exited the room and stood blankly in the middle of a corridor struggling to push his tears back. He sensed a few servants looking at him from the corners. He would never let his people see him in such a sorry state. He walked to the hall and ordered his guards to leave him alone in there. He passed all the urns, mannequins, tapestries and armors belonging to his ancestors. He moved to his father's mannequin standing behind his urn. The tapestries of his ancestors all depicted them fighting and conquering but his father's tapestry showed him carrying a pot of gold on his head with the help of his extravagantly built muscular physique, which was hardly an accurate depiction. As he stood there, he finally failed to hold back his tears. He fell to his knees in front of the urn pedestal and started sobbing with his face buried in his hands. The sadness soon became anger and he stood back up with a bitter rage on his face.
"That monster will rape every girl he could get his hands on and kill everyone who dared to speak up against him, starting with me. All because of you", he yelled at the urn. Baka could almost see his deceased father, with a guilt-stricken face, in front of him.
"You should never have trusted that imbecile with so much power! You have jeopardized the entire village just for some wealth. Your greed has put the fate of all my people in danger. If I don't play my cards right, I might lose the throne to him and who knows what he will do to my people as soon he gets his hands on it".
"He will never let the people step outside the village and they will remain ignorant enough to be fooled by the likes of him for generations to come, because you were scared of a revolution. But now look what you have done", the Chief shouted and ceased to care if anyone overheard him. He had started panting.
"I would rather burn this longhouse to the ground with myself still in it than surrender it to that maniac", he continued yelling. His lungs burned. He had never shouted or yelled at anyone in his life. He felt a weight lift off of him.
"He has made too many promises, his luck is about to run out".
He let out a sigh, put his hands on the pedestal and put all his weight on it.
"I'll strike when the iron is red. I will not repeat the same mistakes you committed", he whispered.
"I can't let it happen. I won't let it happen. The throne of the Chiefhood is safe with me" he said with tears in his eyes.