Chapter 160: The War Council
The atmosphere inside the beastman king's tent was heavier than usual.
Dozens of tribal chiefs had gathered, filling the enormous hide tent to capacity.
Their forms were varied — fur of every color catching the oil lamp light, beast-slit pupils gleaming in the shadows, the whole tent thick with a mingled smell of musk and sweat.
The beastman king sat on the stone chair at the center, his golden-brown mane spread across his shoulders, amber eyes half-narrowed as his gaze moved across every chief present.
He had instructed the fox-beastman envoy to repeat Sebas's words in full.
The envoy came in from outside.
His lean frame looked small under the stares of so many towering beastmen, but he steadied himself and carried out the beastman king's order.
"That... sir said his conditions were three."
"First: the beastman nation withdraws from all Dragon Kingdom territory it currently occupies."
The words landed. A low rumble moved through the tent. Several tribal chiefs exchanged glances.
"Second: all humans being kept within the beastman nation are released."
The wild boar chief of the Fang Tribe blew a hard breath through his nose, his two long curved tusks gleaming coldly. The wolf-head chief of the Blood Night Tribe spread his jaws and showed two rows of sharp white teeth.
The envoy fought down his nerves and kept going.
"Third: the beastman nation passes a law permanently prohibiting the consumption of humans. That law must be genuinely enforced."
The tent erupted.
"What—!"
"A ban on eating people?"
"What the hell kind of condition is that!"
"Outrageous!"
The tiger-head chief of the Steel Fang Tribe was the first on his feet.
His build was massive, his orange-and-black tiger stripes vivid under the lamplight, and the king character marking his brow had twisted with fury.
"No eating people? Then what are we supposed to eat? Grass?"
He slammed his fist on the table. The wood let out a strained groan and the legs sank a fraction.
"My tribe's villages were raided by human cavalry! Villages burned, food stolen, tribespeople killed! And now this dragon wants me to pass a law against eating people?"
His canines were bared. He was blowing hard through his nose, producing a low, rolling sound like distant thunder.
"I'll tear that dragon apart with my own hands! I'll eat roasted dragon!"
Chiefs around him called out their agreement.
"That's exactly right!"
"We'll fight the dragon if we have to!"
"Beastmen bow to no one!"
The wild boar chief bellowed in that deep, muffled voice of his, his two thick tusks rising and falling with each word, his breath blowing the papers on the table in front of him into the air.
The wolf-head chief ran his tongue along his lips. Something dangerous flickered in those murky green wolf eyes.
The beastman king raised one hand.
The noise in the tent gradually died down — though the heavy breathing and the sound of teeth grinding stayed.
"I understand what you all want."
He had been watching every chief's reaction throughout.
"Then—" The beastman king's tone hardened slightly. "Who among you is willing to lead the vanguard and take the first charge?"
The tent went completely quiet.
The contrast with the noise before was stark — like a roaring fire hit with a bucket of ice water.
The chiefs who had just been shouting and snarling now lowered their eyes without exception, or looked somewhere else entirely.
The tiger-head chief of the Steel Fang Tribe settled back into his chair. The energy he'd had a moment ago — the one swearing to tear the dragon apart personally — deflated like a punctured bladder. He picked up his water cup and pretended to drink, while one tiger eye drifted sideways to check what the others were doing.
The wolf-head chief pulled his tongue back in and bent his head, fiddling with the knife at his hip, the perfect picture of a craftsman suddenly fascinated by the enchanting patterns on the blade.
The wild boar chief stopped bellowing as well. His large ears flattened back against his head in a pose that said very clearly: I didn't hear anything.
The remaining chiefs all found something else to occupy them — straightening their fur, leaning over to murmur with someone nearby — clearly not discussing the matter at hand.
The beastman king watched this, and something complicated moved through his eyes.
He let out a quiet sigh inside himself.
If Urgov were still alive, this wouldn't be such a problem.
That one had been plotting against him, yes — but whenever a moment like this came up, all it took was a few pointed words and the bear would charge right to the front. Sometimes he didn't even need to say anything. One look was enough to send that one barreling forward, showing off.
Even when the losses would obviously be severe, the bear would gut it out to the end on sheer pride.
But unfortunately, that bear was dead now.
The beastman king's gaze swept the tent. He needed someone to serve as expendable vanguard — bait for the front — so that his own tribe's strength stayed intact as long as possible.
His eyes came to rest on one figure.
Jaka, the leopard-head chief of the Swift Wind Tribe.
The leopard-beastman's build was a size smaller than the tiger-head chief, but his limbs were long, his muscle lines clean and powerful, and his pale gold fur was covered in black spots.
The beastman king looked at Jaka. Jaka felt the gaze.
His eyes met the king's, and unease rose in his chest immediately.
"Chief Jaka." The beastman king spoke the name directly.
Jaka's body went slightly rigid.
"Your Majesty..." His voice came out a little dry.
"The beastman vanguard — let it be your Swift Wind Tribe."
Every eye in the tent turned to Jaka at once.
The chiefs who had just been performing deafness and ignorance all raised their heads simultaneously, looking at the leopard-beastman with complicated expressions.
Some sympathy. But more relief.
Jaka opened his mouth, trying to refuse.
"Your Majesty, this—"
"The bear-beastman warriors," the beastman king cut him off, explaining for Jaka's sake, "couldn't even scratch that dragon. The reason was speed — the dragon moves too fast for them to land anything."
The beastman king's amber eyes looked directly at Jaka.
"Your Swift Wind Tribe is the fastest force in the beastman nation. Only you have any chance of keeping pace with that one's attack speed."
Jaka felt a deep, private misery settle over him.
What he wanted to say was: speed doesn't mean I can win. If the bear-beastmen couldn't take one punch, leopard-beastmen probably can't even break through his defense. This isn't fair.
But looking into the beastman king's eyes, the words made it as far as his mouth and went no further.
There was nothing negotiable in that gaze.
"Your Majesty..." Jaka made one last attempt. "You really want me to lead the vanguard?"
The beastman king rose from the stone chair, walked to Jaka, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Chief Jaka, what the bear-beastmen could not do — perhaps the leopard-beastmen can. Your speed is the sharpest spear in the beastman nation."
"After the council ends, stay behind. I have a few things to say to you privately."
Jaka lowered his head in a way that said he had accepted his fate.
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