-Sorry if I'm being pushy, but I'm sure you can see how lack of reviews makes me sad faced :( If this is in response to a particular style of writing or story path I'm taking I apologize, but I'd love to hear what the criticism is so I can fix it! Anything? Anything you don't like? Anything you do like? I'll hear you out, I swear! I know I'm getting views, it just feels more and more that my readers are becoming dissatisfied with this :( Oh, ahead of time, some of the comments in this may seem extremely intolerant/sexist toward women. Please just know that I DON'T think this way; this is all from Edward's perspective, just a heads up. This is a bit short since I like where it ends (I have a habit of ending in places that others might consider awkward), hope you don't mind, sorry if you do. Well, I suppose I'll just say once more that I'd like to get some reviews, and then leave you to read. Enjoy! (hopefully)

Chapter 7

Sitting in the Chieftain's tent while others had no other choice but to stand represented an unmistakable aura of power; of authority, of justifiable pride, and, most importantly to its current occupant, of cunning. For no longer would the Blackfoots struggle just for self-preservation under the auspices of a withered old man, no longer would they bend knee and cower before other tribes when "necessary", no longer would they cling to traditions and practices that were tangibly no longer applicable or advantageous. For today, a new tribe had been birthed from the ashes of an old one; a new presence, a new power, a new authority, a new empire; a new Legion.

Edward's short term plans (his long term ones were still in in deliberation) called for the immediate reeducation of the tribals via Joshua regarding the customs of Rome subsequent to his complete assumption of power over the tribe. Of course, now that that had already happened, haste would have to be made to ensure that, while simultaneously disposing eliminating hostile tribes as threats, more social and political issues would be adequately dealt with.

Everything from familial arrangements, language, more in depth knowledge of tactics than what had already been taught, anything and everything that Edward knew would now be imparted unto the tribe, hopefully in a generally timely fashion; time may have been in relatively good supply, but Edward's patience was not. A definitive ranking structure for the army would also have to be enforced as soon as possible, once again via Joshua.

Naturally, however, the tribals were not made privy to the knowledge that what they were being taught did not stem directly from Edward's bright young mind and ruthless ingenuity; they didn't know that, in more ways than one, they were living a lie.

There were few things that Edward was actually fearful of; physical danger to him personally, uncertain conditions, and military defeat (now that he had his own army) ranked highly. Out of all of his fears though, Edward could think of nothing more frightening at the present time than being exposed for what he truly was; fraudulent, plagiaristic, spurious; false.

Edward would humorously recall years later that, at the time, he equated stealing the ideas of a genius who had lived centuries ago to form a semi utopia with copying homework off of one of his fellow students when he was ten years old. Of course, the former was much more serious; the ramification for passing off another's homework as one's own was, as Edward recalled, a smack on the wrist from a ruler.

Passing off another's political, economic, social, and military ideas as one's own, though, carried much greater risk. The tribals may have respected Edward, but only for his knowledge and originality, and of course for the stability he had already brought in such a short time. Once, if, his "originality" was shown to be derivative, however, this stability would likely be annulled, and Edward would likely find himself in a situation similar to that which his predecessor had faced only a couple of days ago.

To that end, Edward placed creating a uniform identity, one that none of his people would have the gall to question, highly on his agenda (crushing his enemies into dust still took precedence). Of course, maintaining such a monolithic identity was easier said than done, and required fairly intellectual thought; what was one thing that none would be audacious enough to challenge?

Regardless, things were looking propitious for the Blackfoots at the moment; two more skirmisher parties had come in the last two days, and each one had been easily slaughtered. And with Calhoun dutifully continuing his medical work on the few Blackfoots who were actually still wounded, there seemed to be little to genuinely impair the Blackfoots' progress at the moment.

"May I ask why exactly you wish for the Blackfoots to emulate every possible detail about Ancient Rome? This will take ages, I'd like to see this "percect" society that you've promised while I'm still young, alive even."

Except, perhaps, for Graham. Edward seemed almost offended as he looked up from his book to his (albeit reluctant) right hand man; he obviously wasn't in the best of moods, which was perhaps justifiable considering he'd practically abandoned everything he knew all of his life in the course of a couple of days for the sake of a narcissist who thought he could be a better ruler than an entire republican government.

"Ancient Rome is a blueprint for a society with staying power; it's also completely foreign, alien to such isolated tribes, so there's little to no risk of my… borrowing of ideas from extinct cultures creating division. If we're going to have such unity though, we need to all be headed in the same direction; so, we all need to be taught the same things, if it takes years to do so it'll still be worth it."

"So that justifies murdering your subjects if they so much as question your will? Societies have been made from diversity, intellectual debate, the freedom to inquire; taking those away would take away what makes us human."

Of course, there it was. Joshua may have invited, tolerated, even practiced pragmatism once in a while, but he was likely to have at least a few lingering and unbreakable ideals for the rest of his life; apparently his principles regarding killing were among them. Edward had suggested earlier that, in order to maintain order in the "empire", examples be made out of those who were either disobedient, disloyal, or just plain useless.

In doing so, none would question his will or go against him lest they suffer the same grim fate; it would even indirectly instill a hard work ethic among those who had no interest in suffering his wrath (which was likely to be everyone). Joshua, however, wasn't fond of the idea, and suggested that the killing remain on the battlefield. If Joshua's goal was to guilt Edward into seeing the error of his cruel ways, he'd failed miserably.

"What you say may be true to an extent, but how many societies have also been broken because of such "diversity"? The United States government couldn't even get anything done in its final days because of agenda disparities, and as we all know, it suffered for it. As much as I encourage, and plan to encourage, independent thought among my lessers, how much can be brooked before irreparable rifts are created? How many iconoclasts can go unchecked before internal conflict ensues?"

Joshua grudgingly sighed, before rubbing his forehead in silent admittance that he wasn't the only sensible one in the immediate vicinity.

"I…understand."

With that, Joshua gently placed the book that he was holding back on the table, and walked slowly out of the tent to go do his job. Edward may have lacked genuine compassion, but he knew what people felt when he looked at them; Joshua was already regretting what he was doing. Edward would have to find a way to make it up to him, more for his own benefit than Graham's.

Of course, regardless of Graham's admittance that Edward had valid points, much of what the aspiring dictator had just said was a lie; encouraging independent thought, even in its most precocious forms, was the last thing needed in the wasteland, let alone his "empire".

After all, in Edward's eyes, only ignorant people felt that they had the right to form opinions and debate on things of which they had no knowledge of, especially in a world where people were lucky just to find scraps of irradiated food or dirty water to scrape by on. To him, the philosophy was rather simple; would people rather eat and be given basic rights in exchange for hard work, or be overly dogmatic in a world where nothing's achieved from being so?

Edward heard the flap open, and looked up to see the surly Graham enter once more.

"Something else regarding your ideals need addressed?" Edward said directly.

"No, I thought you might like to know that your child slaves have returned, no doubt you'll be eager to debrief them."

Very surly indeed. Edward thought to himself.

""Child slaves?" That's a bit libelous, don't you think? They're committed soldiers just like the rest of these men, and their return indicates to me that they've done their job correctly. Have them sent in, then return to your task please."

"Of course, Edward, whatever you say, I'm sure your "not child slaves" will be very eager to report their findings."

Graham stormed out as he and Edward ended their conversation on a negative note for a second time. If killing people for being mildly rebellious wasn't something Joshua showed extreme censure toward, using children for the sake of the war effort was.

Edward, just prior to the battle, had three children sent to each of the opposing tribes' camps, in order to find out when the next tradeoff of supplies between the three was to take place. Graham strongly suggested that adults be used instead due to the danger that the spies would no doubt face, while Edward rationalized that children would be the last to be suspected of being spies. While the premise was pragmatic, Graham once more let his ideals get in the way of practicality, and condemned the idea in every way, shape and form; Edward almost could have sworn that he was going to take a bullet from Graham's .45 the moment he turned his back on him.

The three children entered shortly after Graham left, dirt and lash marks pervading their faces. It was a sight that would have likely provoked a more sympathetic person, perhaps, but not Edward; only efficiency and meticulousness occupied his thoughts nowadays, all other details and occurrences were incidental. Edward moved around from the desk to get a better view of the children, and held the face of one in his hand, moving it at his leisure to examine the soon to be scars.

No doubt this was exactly what Graham was afraid of; Edward could've sworn he was the child equivalent of a feminist the way he went on and on about the "dignity" and "worth" of children. And yet, in Edward's mind, they were just another asset, as were weapons, men, even women. Of course, treating women like assets was hardly anything new in the Grand Canyon; if the Blackfoots had gotten one thing correct prior to Edward's stumbling upon the tribe, it was that women weren't permitted to take part in battle.

One less thing that needs changed. Edward thought.

To him, women weren't meant to be philosophers, fighters, etc.; they were meant to stay at home and keep their houses in order, physical and intellectual tasks were far better off left to men. Of course, that wasn't to say that women would have no place in his empire; child bearing was still imperative since, aside from Edward's…other plan for attaining recruits, biological reproduction was the only other one he knew of.

Can't exactly just clone people nowadays. Edward thought to himself.

"Lo goc qu saj quarat?" Edward said in inquisition as to why the children were still alive since they were clearly discovered.

The eldest looking child, who couldn't have been more than twelve or so, responded, saying that they were all captured, beaten, and then, unexpectedly, let go. Edward folded his arms and buried himself in thought; why would they be beaten and then set free?

As Edward recalled there was one member of the previous attack squad that had escaped (as was intended) to return to his fellows to inform them of the Blackfoots' newfound viciousness, so the fact that the fate of three Blackfoot children laid in the hands of the other tribes only for them to be let go indicated that, while the tribes still wanted to send a message to the Blackfoots that they were not to be trifled with, one thing occupied their thoughts in regards to the newly threatening tribe; fear, enough for them to tolerate spies with punishment far less than death, likely out of expectance of further reprisal.

Regardless of how poignant the sight of the children was likely to be for Graham and his values, they had accomplished their mission just the same; supplies were to be moved out of the camp within the day, and taken to a crossroads a few miles from the Blackfoot camp. Disrupting the exchange had a dual purpose; each opposing tribe would be destitute and unable to effectively fight back without the trade, and the war machine that was the Blackfoot tribe would have even more ore to load into its blast furnace, creating a well-oiled machine from the vestiges of one that had long since fallen into disrepair.

The children exited the tent after Edward curtly excused them, leaving their leader in silent contemplation. Edward had only just realized that, since his commandeering of the tribe, he'd been sitting up completely straight every time he sat down; it was actually becoming quite uncomfortable, and it also implied that he had something to be worried about, or that his utmost attention was required to overcome some seemingly insurmountable set of circumstances. And yet, this wasn't the case; sitting up straight, tense, and unnerved was better left to his enemies.

Why worry? The pieces are all already falling into place; all I need to do is wait. Edward thought to himself.

With that, Edward put his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair, in cocky and vainglorious triumph of his deeds. The idea never once crossed his mind that he was becoming unduly overconfident too soon, that anything could possibly be a threat to him at this stage; of course, he wasn't too far wrong.

Celebration; need something to celebrate. Edward thought.

As if placed there by appropriateness itself, Edward saw that one of the drawers of the desk had been open the whole time, and contained several packs of cigarettes.

"A bit indulgent, weren't we?" Edward thought aloud.

Edward had actually considered cigarettes disgusting (he didn't like the idea of slowly poisoning himself) but he couldn't deny that they must have been semi relaxing; people wouldn't have smoked the hazardous "death sticks" otherwise. He took a cigarette from one of the already opened packs, and grabbed a lighter that was also conveniently placed inside. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit up, taking deep relaxed breaths in and out as the smoke traveled through his throat.

I should get them moving now; the tribes may be moving faster than those kids accounted for. Edward thought.

Edward expelled the impetuous thoughts from his head once again; moving quickly and not taking his time implied that there was a chance of failure or other mishaps, which was not the case; what could go wrong? Graham may have currently been in a foul mood, but he wasn't just going to forget his purpose for doing what he was doing anytime soon, the exchange was being conducted in what was practically a valley, which made it a field day for snipers and a nightmare for the other tribes; casualty projections, lack of supplies or leadership, it had all already been taken care of. Arrangements had already been made, the die had already been loaded and cast, the odds were stacked, and the field was set. Once more, all Edward needed to do was to wait. And, of course, smoke.