The night was deep, and bonfires flickered in the Shuren Tribe's temporary camp, casting a reddish glow on tired and dispirited faces.
Kopi sat in the shadows of a corner, leaning against a tree, watching his tribesmen silently and heavily share the smoked meat and bread Arthur had provided.
He didn't know if what he did was right or wrong. He only knew that his tribesmen were now alive, but the cost was heavy—they were all cursed.
Everyone was so silent, only a few ignorant children chased each other, their mouths full of food, letting out long-lost, muffled laughter. They didn't understand what had happened; they only knew they were eating abundant food now.
But to Kopi, these laughs were like a cup of scalding hot water splashed on his face, so burning and painful. He was truly pathetic.
For these laughs, he and their parents had knelt before the Flatlanders's lord, becoming the kneeling ones, offering their heads and dignity.
For these laughs, he and their parents had personally killed their kinsmen who were captured and bound by the Flatlanders.
"Kopi, son of Gern," a voice sounded behind him. Kopi looked up.
Arthur walked over, with Brin and Rosso Brun following behind him, their armor reflecting a cold light in the firelight.
Kopi immediately stood up, his life and death entirely in this man's hands. He stepped forward, respectfully lowering his head.
Arthur's gaze swept over the wildlings who were eating, his eyes showing no emotion: "It seems you like my gifts very much."
Kopi's voice was dry: "Yes, Black Lion Chieftain, the Shuren Tribe will never forget your generosity, and Kopi, son of Gern, will never forget it either."
Without correcting his address, Arthur stopped beating around the bush. He pulled out a simple parchment map from his Pregnant, unfolding it before the firelight:
"Since that's the case."
"I need you to do one thing."
"There are other tribes returning. Your task is to find them."
Kopi's heart sank sharply, his expression freezing, a chill running through his body.
Arthur didn't mind his expression. He pointed a finger at a spot on the map: "Tell them you've found a safe, food-rich valley."
"Invite them to gather there and fight against me together."
Kopi's gaze fell on the spot his finger was pressing—Drywind Gorge, a place he knew all too well, one of his former nomadic homes. Its entrance was as narrow as a bottle's neck, its interior wide, and its terrain treacherous, but the only exit was that bottleneck.
Kopi's breathing quickened, his blood seemingly frozen. He didn't know what the Black Lion was going to do, but he had a premonition that it would become a desperate place for his tribesmen, a natural graveyard.
Arthur's voice was soft, yet it pierced Kopi's chest like a blade: "The women and children among your tribesmen will stay here. I will protect them."
"Once I see the results I want to see, I will give you my true reward."
"A reward that will make you not regret your decision."
Kopi's lips moved, but no sound came out. This was a promise, and also the most malicious threat. He looked not far away, where a tribesman was tearing a piece of bread and carefully feeding it into his child's mouth.
He slowly, deeply, took a breath, then knelt on one knee: "As… you… command… Black Lion Chieftain."
In the dense forest of the Brightmoon Mountains, mist enveloped everything, making it impossible to see.
Kopi led over fifty tribesmen, moving swiftly through the forest, seemingly without hindrance. The High Mountain was their home; they were natural High Mountain warriors.
Arthur's scouts had already provided precise intelligence. He didn't expend much effort before finding the Stonefist and Moonho tribes, who were struggling on their journey.
A man as sturdy as a bear leaped out from behind a tree. He was the chieftain of the Stonefist tribe: "Kopi, son of Gern!!",
"I thought the Flatlanders's Black Lion had slaughtered you!! Where are your tribesmen?!!!"
From another direction, an old man with a wrinkled face and cloudy eyes walked out. He leaned on a bone staff and was the chieftain of the Moonho tribe.
He warily scanned his surroundings, looking at the Stonefist chieftain, displeased by his boisterous shouts, and cursed in a low voice: "Fool! Do you want to attract the Black Lion?"
Kopi forced himself to smile. He opened his arms and went to meet them: "My tribesmen! Kopi, son of Gern, has found a good place!"
He tried hard to suppress the surging guilt in his heart, weaving lies with the most sincere tone.
"There are many caves there! There is clean water! I've also hidden a lot of grain!"
"The main force of the Black Lion's army has gone to the plains! The mountains are safe now!!"
"I came to find you! I want us to unite against the Black Lion! First, drive out those damned invaders!!!"
The Stonefist chieftain's eyes lit up. Abundant food. Since leaving their home and having to fight with the tribes already living in the valley, their lives had been too hard.
But the Moonho chieftain narrowed his suspicious eyes: "You? You would have that much grain?"
Kopi didn't say much. He had his tribesmen one by one untie the leather bags on their backs and show them.
When the bags were opened, they were full of smoked meat and neatly stacked bread. The aroma of food instantly filled the damp, cold air. Wildlings from both tribes surged forward, their eyes filled with greed.
The Stonefist chieftain snatched a piece of smoked meat and took a ferocious bite, saliva dripping down his beard.
He roared indistinctly: "Food! It's real! Kopi, son of Gern! You didn't lie to us!"
They hadn't seen such good food in too long. To survive, they even had to abandon the old and weak in their tribe, letting them be taken by the High Mountain ancestors.
The Moonho chieftain stared at the food, his Adam's apple bobbing. The reason they had returned was because they couldn't find a living space for their tribe amidst the encirclement by the wildling tribes who lived on the valley side and knew the valley like the back of their hand.
He finally nodded, greed and famine overcoming his last bit of reason: "Good! We'll go with you!!"
After the three tribes merged, they formed a large procession, marching majestically towards Drywind Gorge.
Kopi walked at the front, deliberately slowing his pace. At a fork in the road, he stopped.
He pointed to a hidden path: "For safety, let all tribesmen who cannot fight, the children and the elderly, take this small path with our belongings."
"It's safer there. We, the warriors of these tribes, do not fear battle. Let's go to the valley first to clear out the camp and ensure the surrounding safety."
The Stonefist chieftain and the Moonho chieftain had no doubts and immediately agreed to the proposal.
Kopi watched as the old and weak, unable to fight, carried heavy packs and slowly disappeared down another path, protected by a small number of tribesmen.
His heart was bleeding. He knew this was the last act of mercy he could do for these kinsmen.
Along the way, the wildling warriors, who were soon to face death, were in high spirits. They clapped Kopi on the shoulder, envisioning the future.
-------------------------
If you enjoy this story, you can read 70+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
Webnovel will keep getting 1 new chapter every day but Patreon readers can stay far ahead.
Maybe it's not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
[email protected]/Greyhounds
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"