Al considered implementing a new military drill manual for both the human legions and the Beastman warbands once the supply lines were stable.
Compared to the heavy challenges and obstacles he was destined to face, and the inevitable crisis of the End Times, his cards were far too few.
He had to use every possible method to strengthen his forces and prepare for the coming storm.
Al simply stopped hiding his tracks and walked directly through the military camp.
As expected, the soldiers immediately flocked to pay their respects.
Al didn't have the skills for a grand political show, but he did his best to comfort and reassure them.
To the Beastmen, he spoke of the gifts of the Four Mothers and the grand destiny of the tribe.
In between, he recalled the glorious days of struggle when they first forged through the forest.
To the human troops about to march, Al spoke of the righteousness of resisting the Green Tide.
"Behind you is your home, under the protection of the Four Mothers! I hope you all fight bravely and never retreat until death!"
He interspersed phrases like "Beastmen and Humans were once one in ancient times, only differing by geography."
"I have always been a human; the Four Gods entrusted me with the tribe, but I have deep respect for the Goddess Myrmidia."
"My heart is forever linked with the people of Estalia."
Things like that.
His identity, status, and the setting were all a bit off for such words.
If he had been born into a family within the Empire, drinking from the confluence of the Reik and Talabec rivers in Altdorf,
he might have asked the Arch-Lector how heavy the Imperial Crown was while commanding all military forces.
He would wear his sword into the palace, not hurry when entering court, and not have his name announced upon bowing...
In those moments, he might have emotionally declared: "I am a son of the Imperial people, and I love my motherland."
In short, Al's skill in tailoring his identity and preferences to the situation was proving to be very effective.
To his subordinates, he was both a secular ruler and a symbol of faith.
Combined with his personal abilities, achievements, and the powerful prestige of his support system, his authority was absolute.
Even if Al chose to be a debauched tyrant, his subjects would have no choice but to submit, given the norms of the Old World.
The fact that he could humble himself to look after his soldiers and commoners, performing—partly out of genuine care—such acts,
made him a paragon of a benevolent monarch by this world's average standards.
The commoners had seen the Kingdom sit by as supply officials and elites embezzled food, cruelly oppressing the people.
They had seen the Kingdom issue a forced conscription order to drag every able-bodied man south as cannon fodder for the northern defense plan.
To be able to submit to a brave, wise, and charismatic Everchosen, joining the united and loving family of the tribe, was a stroke of divine luck.
Even among the commoners, the most stubborn followers of Myrmidia and Kingdom loyalists,
when the conscription order was announced and public outrage flared, they didn't say things like:
"Ask not what the Kingdom can do for you, ask what you can do for the Kingdom!" or "I would rather die under a Greenskin blade to support the North!"
Instead, they kept a low profile and followed the popular wave of "The Kingdom wants me dead, I'd rather join the tribe to survive."
Then, they would secretly harbor nostalgia for their old country.
They would delay their conversion as long as possible, or simply fake it entirely.
They were the type who "faked conversion today and intended to repent later."
The number of such high-threat saboteurs, whom Al viewed as thorns in his side, was actually very small.
In the harsh environment of the Old World, the act of betraying someone after utilizing them was rare, and the consequences were severe.
Al's persona as a "Dwarf-like" figure who values contracts and holds deep grudges was very effective.
Those who believed him truly believed, and they became more accepting of the tribe as a whole.
The few who harbored ulterior motives and didn't truly want to be "savages" or believe in the Beastman Goddesses
were deterred by his "grudge-holding" reputation.
They feared the Beastmen would be like the Dwarfs, who loved their Dammaz Kron, and would bring a massive army to their door for revenge.
So most of them stayed in the shadows, at most muttering a few complaints when life wasn't as comfortable as the old days.
They weren't a threat yet, but Al was already taking precautions.
The refugees had escaped the Kingdom's tyranny thanks to his great benevolence (fake sincerity).
How could he let a few "rat droppings" pollute the loyalty everyone held for the Four Mothers and Al's rule?
Once they converted and joined the tribe, whether they were Beastmen or Estalians—
and in the future, perhaps Tileans, Bretonnians, Imperials, or even Elves, Dwarfs, Greenskins, and Skaven—
they were all part of Al's warband!
Sincere unity was the prime directive!
Living, they belonged to Al; dead, their souls belonged to the Four Mothers!
Al had prepared no second path for them other than conversion and staying within his warband.
He intended to block even that one path, using every means possible to eliminate any threat of defection.
Al, who never forgot work even while slacking off, finished his tour of the barracks and morale-boosting before slipping away again.
He was the biggest boss; he could leave without even saying goodbye, just dropping a few pleasantries to leave everyone ecstatic.
Al mused that wars in this world always involved mobilization and pre-battle speeches.
Often, a successful speech acted like a stimulant, comparable to a buff granted by a god's blessing.
It could allow mortal armies to hold out against overwhelming numbers of monsters and demons.
He practiced humility and treated his soldiers well, almost to the point of sucking the pus from their wounds like Wu Qi.
At the very least, his reputation should be that of Liu Bei.
Though like a certain High King, he had the "I have a sickness" problem—specifically, a massive harem.
This was quite rare in the Old World.
The Empire and Bretonnia were monogamous, though mistresses were common.
Dwarfs were the opposite; due to the scarcity of female Dwarfs, they practiced polyandry or shared wives.
High Elves were nominally monogamous, but they were prone to romantic scandals.
Their fertility festivals and chaotic private lives made Slaanesh love the elegant race deeply.
The Druchii were even more chaotic, but they had an advanced slave system where the Witch King theoretically held the power of life and death over everyone.
Since the entire nation was tied to one person, they naturally didn't care about such things.
In times like these, Al would use the excuse of "tribal customs differ from civilization" to flexibly handle moral differences...
Everything was for the tribe, for the sake of the subjects!
Al had taken Estalian women, two madams one after the other, and doted on them.
Wasn't the purpose to soothe the hearts of the two hundred thousand refugees now, and the millions of Estalians in the future!
Political marriage, show marriages—marrying a woman to soothe a people's heart was a Cathayan tradition!
Why should Al not emulate the high wisdom of the Dragon Emperor's Celestial Empire?
It was easy to let his mind wander while out for a stroll, whereas his mind went blank during sex.
Al criticized himself in his head and then defended himself, feeling increasingly refreshed.
It was just that many private matters were difficult to have a Sagegor historian record at all times.
Otherwise, he would definitely have everything written down, censored heavily, and then published.
He wanted everyone to understand the Everchosen's helplessness and his noble sacrifice of reputation for the sake of his subjects.
Then Al could regularly show his face and put on a show to boost his popularity.
Even the assassinated City Prince, who loved staged plays and handing out coins—a character Al defined as a "foolish emperor"—
was deeply loved by the Estalians, who pitied his assassination and mourned his fate.
Al figured that with his own traits, following a "man of the people" route assisted by "The Record of the Great Righteousness" instead of actual history,
and with the addition of faith, wouldn't he get a massive "fanbase-governance" buff?
In the future, even if Misha used her noble phantasm, "Clarent Blood Arthur," and cleaved Al into a paraplegic,
his fanatically loyal subjects would still sacrifice a thousand psykers to his Golden Throne every day before he finally passed away...
Al's thoughts drifted further and further, until he was drawn by the sounds of "nngh" and "aah" coming from a small wooden cabin he was passing.
The boy's gaze turned toward the source of the decadent sounds, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously curled up.
Behind his mask, his eyes narrowed into slits.
"Shh!"
He signaled his bodyguards to stay put, while he crept stealthily to the side of the cabin.
He circled around, found a window, and lightly pressed himself against it.