Chapter 101: The Wolf Fang Tribe

After receiving the news, Uryan rushed back to the great house in a flurry and began negotiations with Magna.

For a settlement to grow strong, it can do so only by reproducing or by absorbing outsiders.

But outsiders are not so easy to absorb. Expansion without order would only bring danger to an already stable settlement.

Uryan had no liking for the refugees of Isonbol. They were all people who fancied themselves worldly and experienced, and most were vigorous young adults full of fire. Not everyone wished to become an honest farmer; many of them harbored hidden intentions.

At the logging camp across the river, there were barely a hundred people, yet small cliques had already formed in a very short time. Any refugee with a little ambition and some skill had no interest in building a home. They only wanted to carve out a little domain of their own and fight for influence in the camp.

Unfortunately, the lord of Riverbend was no soft touch either. In the eyes of Uryan, an imperial soldier, these refugee ringleaders were nothing more than young cockerels with excess energy and nowhere to spend it, flailing about in a chicken coop. At best, they could only amuse themselves by bullying the weak; they were not even worth calling a petty nuisance.

Anyone with real nerve had already mixed into the local bandits.

He could simply find a pretext, give them a harsh lesson, assign them the lowest labor, or hang them up and beat them a few times. That alone would be enough to strip away their authority.

If he truly met a hard case, he would transfer the man elsewhere, scatter the clique, or simply drive him out with no nonsense.

Managing refugees with the methods of an army was almost absurdly simple.

Though old Uryan looked down on his shambling, good-for-nothing future son-in-law and often heaped blows and scolding on Leo, there were times when he also deeply approved of some of Leo’s words.

For example: give the orderly their order, and the savage their savagery.

By contrast, the wild folk were far more straightforward. They knew survival was difficult and asked only for stability. They did not want much.

After an hour of discussion, Uryan agreed to set aside a tract of land on the far side of the Riverbend Peninsula and to provide fifty young villagers with construction experience, along with a full set of building tools, to help the Fangtooth Tribe raise a settlement of its own.

The hides, herbs, ores, and rare materials brought by the Fangtooth Tribe would be sold through Riverbend, exchanged for food to sustain the clan.

All members of the Fangtooth Tribe would become subjects of Riverbend, obeying the lord’s laws and paying reasonable taxes in exchange for arable land and designated hunting grounds.

In return, the Fangtooth Tribe would provide fifty wild archer warriors, equipped at their own expense, to join the militia and take part in all of Riverbend’s battles without condition.

If irreconcilable conflict arose between the two sides, the Fangtooth Tribe would have the right to sever ties with Riverbend and depart on its own.

With the negotiations concluded, Uryan and Magna clasped each other’s arms and gave them a hard pull.

Uryan said, “Then it is settled. Riverbend will do its utmost to help you relocate and establish yourselves here. May your bows and our swords stand together in defense of our homes, rather than point at one another.”

“As you wish, new chieftain!” Magna replied after a brief hesitation, his voice heavy.

For the wild folk, terms like lord, knight, and master carried hostility; to call someone chieftain was the mark of submission.

Riverbend’s terms were exceedingly generous, far beyond Magna’s expectations.

For the future of his people, the proud and valiant great hunter Magna was willing to lead his clan in submission to Uryan’s name.

Uryan replenished the food supplies for Magna and several other wild hunters of the Fangtooth Tribe for the return journey, and also presented them with a sack of steel arrowheads as a gift.

Fifty steel arrowheads, soaked in grease, made Magna’s breathing grow rougher.

These were treasures absolutely nonexistent in the wilderness, products of the great workshops of the southern frontier, military goods Uryan had procured from Rigolav’s storeroom.

Ever since Uryan had tricked and cajoled Romon into helping him make off with two fine riding horses from Rigolav’s stables, Rigolav had sternly forbidden Uryan from approaching his livestock pens.

But the property of a banner knight was simply too abundant. Uryan resolved to guard part of it on the other man’s behalf, and so he set his sights on Rigolav’s weapons storehouse.

The iron arrowheads forged by wild folk were either too soft and easily bent, or too brittle and prone to shattering; some were even less useful than properly prepared bone points.

Was it because their quivers held special arrowheads for hunting bears and others for hunting rabbits? Not at all. It was because they were poor. Because they were backward.

Though the yew longbows of the wild folk were immensely powerful, they still required sufficiently fine arrows to match them.

Arrowheads of inferior quality did more than damage accuracy. If they shattered or warped on impact, the force of the arrow would be greatly diminished.

The batch of steel arrowheads Uryan gave them were sharp, durable, and capable of piercing armor. Even if they struck the hard bones of prey, they would not deform easily and could be used again.

In the wilderness, this was hard currency more valuable than gold or silver.

If all the Fangtooth hunters were equipped with such steel points, Magna would not even be in a hurry to migrate. He would have enough confidence to hold out for a while longer.

Perhaps, if he endured, he could weather this wave of turmoil and preserve his homeland.

After seeing Bjorn and Magna off, Uryan eagerly began inventorying supplies with Olivia and discussing purchases, making preparations in advance.

The Fangtooth Tribe’s arrival was an unexpected delight, but also an inevitability.

Once the wilderness was thrown into unrest, the weak had no choice but to band together in order to survive.

Wild folk did not have many allies to choose from. Only a few tribes occupied regions of absolute advantage, and even then several clans had to unite to defend their homes.

For small peoples like Great Falls and the Fangtooth, surrounded on all sides by other races, only outside aid remained.

It was easy to imagine that north of Wolfchase Plain, countless wild tribes faced the same fate as the Fangtooth Tribe: some hiding deeper in the foothills of the Great Barrier Mountains, praying not to be discovered by foreign races, and others leaving Wolfchase Plain behind, only to expose themselves to the Empire’s gaze.

Leo also instructed Bjorn to arrange more manpower, keep a close watch on the movements of Wolfchase Plain, and strengthen communication between the two villages so they could face the crisis together.

A few days later, Leo received a message from Bjorn. He immediately led the militia, bringing along the prepared supplies and loading them onto fifteen horses and fifteen pack mules, then set out toward the Boulder Hills to meet the Fangtooth migration convoy.

Leo rode his own mount, with a long line of pack animals behind him, looking much like a small merchant caravan.

From time to time, whistles and howls came from the forests on either side of the route. They were scouts from the wild hunters of Great Falls, sending reassuring signals.

The front half of the militia carried axes and iron shovels, serving as the vanguard to clear the way, felling obstructive trees and brush and leveling the small steep slopes.

Building a road was impossible; the conditions did not allow it. But if the worst obstacles were handled in advance, the return journey would be much easier.

The horses and mules were loaded with supplies, chiefly baked barley cakes, bread, and all manner of smoked meat.

The meticulous Olivia had also prepared three large iron cauldrons with iron stands, so the militia could set up camp and cook hot meals.

The two groups met in triumph on the northern side of the Boulder Hills, and the appearance of the militia filled the exhausted migration convoy with delight.