Ulrik had no interest in being a lead, no interest in politics. As he had told Torleik not a few days earlier, politics undid him. The stallion did not want power or glory; his mad, wild mind did not understand such concepts as desirable. All he wanted was to prove that his race, his species and his blood was as superior as he had always believed - believed in mind, body and soul. Were he a leader, he would not have abandoned his fight in fury and embarrassment, and he would have challenged her like a proper stallion. If he was a leader, he would have been an active member of the herd, not a normal outcast.
The engineer knew this about himself well enough, but he also knew that sacrifices had to be made for the better good. Right now? Psyche was the enemy of the superiority of their blood, the race of the unicorns and the uniform, solid front of brutal strength, mystery and power. Her weapon was lost - her body fallen at the hooves of a pegasus. She was unfit to lead a herd to glory, as bested and beaten as she was.
Perhaps if he had been normal - had a brain that operated on the same wavelength as everyone else, he would have felt pity. But, his emotions for others were screwed up, lost somewhere in the vast abyss of calculations and schematics for grander, more devious plans. The engineer waited as Psyche managed to keep her pride while replying to Deimos' statements, and he still found her to react childishly. Why would she not just give up? Why couldn't she just make this easier on herself and admit defeat?
"I was not by your side because ever since you came back to the herd in the World's Edge after leaving to birth your child, we've lost," he stated openly, blatantly. The words were not entirely untrue. "Ever since you were leading us? We've lost. I had no interest in freezing in this god-forsaken snow desert after we were kicked out of the forest, and I returned to serve our species. " Ulrik's expression turned darkly stern.
"We had a common goal, you and I - to prove ourselves superior, as unicorns, over all the common rabble in this world." Ulrik's lips curled back, revealing his teeth, and he lowered his neck. "And you LOST!" The stallion snapped. "You are still of my blood, and we still have work to do to prove to all the others that we are strong. But, you are not the one to lead us into that truth anymore - not after you have failed us so many times." The stallion nodded once and listened to what she said about Deimos.
"Moreso than any of us, myself included," he agreed seriously.
Ulrik had every intention of giving the leadership position to Deimos, but he wanted to speak to the Reaper first. Goals had to be set. Promises had to be made. A unified strength needed to be gathered under this glorious banner of their kind, but he had to make sure that the General was of the same mind - or at least similar mind.
He wasn't entirely a barbarian, after all.
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[P] Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?
