The quiet tension in the air was palpable as Logan, the leader of their tribe, cast a doubtful gaze upon Kro and the council gathered around. His voice cut through the silence with a clarity that resonated with authority, "How long has it been since we last expanded our military ranks?"
"Seventy-one days," Crowe responded promptly. His affinity for numbers and significant dates made him a reliable chronicler of their tribe's milestones, especially those as crucial as military expansions.
"Seventy-one days, barely two months," Logan mused, his tone laced with skepticism. "And in this short span, you claim to have trained nearly two thousand new soldiers? What is their competence in combat? And what of the fighting prowess of those wolf riders?" His questions hung heavy in the air, a calm yet unmistakable challenge to the council's recent decisions.
Kro and Lots exchanged uneasy glances, their heads bowed in a mixture of respect and resignation. They were acutely aware of the gravity of Logan's inquiries, each question stirring a tumult of doubts and considerations within them. Though eager to defend their efforts, Kro found himself tongue-tied, the daunting reality of their untested forces weighing heavily on his conscience.
Without the crucible of war, how could he assert the readiness of their troops with any degree of certainty?
As silence stretched between them, Logan continued, his voice steady and revealing a hint of concern. "The Silver Mane Tribe's rapid expansion was born of necessity, driven by famine. It allowed them to assimilate countless stricken souls. But remember, an army's strength lies not in its numbers alone but in the quality of its warriors.
We have ample provisions, yes, but can we say the same about the caliber of our fighters?"
He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "While I may not know every detail, I have a fair grasp of our current capabilities. Beyond our seasoned warriors, I hesitate to deem the others as battle-ready."
"Let us observe the casualty rates in the coming half-month," Logan suggested, his gaze sweeping over Kro and the others, an implicit challenge in his eyes.
Spurred by their leader's words, Kro lifted his head, his voice steady with newfound resolve. "You are right, Chief. We acted hastily, driven by ambition rather than prudence. We will redouble our efforts in training, focusing on quality as much as quantity."
Logan's expression softened, the earlier sharpness in his tone giving way to a tempered warmth. "It's not solely about diligence in training," he explained. "I seek excellence in our ranks. I don't expect each warrior to stand against a hundred foes alone, but I do demand a standard of excellence that will hold fast against larger tribes."
"Understood, Chief," Kro and Lots responded in unison, their voices firm with commitment. As they spoke, a shared resolve fortified their intent; they would not let their leader down. Privately, Kro acknowledged his previous oversight, a commander's zeal must never outpace the readiness of his troops. It was a lesson hard-learned but essential for the trials ahead.
Logan leaned back, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he mulled over the challenges facing the Silvermane tribe. "It's true. Our combat prowess doesn't yet match that of the larger tribes, the ones commanding tens of thousands of warriors. That's a reality we cannot shy away from."
His voice carried a blend of resolve and caution, "Acknowledging this gap is exactly why I suggest smaller skirmishes against lesser tribes, not just to assert dominance, but to genuinely gauge our warriors' capabilities in combat." Discover exclusive tales on m,v l'e-novelhall.net
Logan halted, his eyes widening slightly as he observed Fenrir galloping closer. It was hard to say whether it was the months apart playing tricks on his perception, but Fenrir seemed to have grown significantly. He towered larger, his presence more formidable than Logan remembered.
"Awoo, awoo, awoo...!" Fenrir's joyful howls continued as he reached Logan, nearly bowling him over in an enthusiastic embrace that spoke volumes of the bond between them.
"Awooo!" Fenrir cavorted around Logan, his gaze fixed intently on him as if confirming the reality of his return.
"Do you miss me?" Logan chuckled, struggling to wrap his arms around the massive wolf's neck.
"Ouch!" Fenrir responded with a howl that vibrated with emotion, nodding in what seemed an almost human gesture of affirmation.
"Have you gotten bigger?" Logan inquired, eyeing the wolf with a mix of admiration and bewilderment.
"Woo woo!" Again, Fenrir nodded, his actions uncannily perceptive.
Logan turned to Kro and Lots, his curiosity piqued. "Do wargs continue to grow after reaching adulthood?"
"Not typically," Kro replied, his tone reflecting his intrigue. "But magical beasts like Fenrir can change size with their strength. The more powerful they become, the larger they can grow. There's no real limit."
"Do you think Fenrir has become stronger then?" Logan asked, skepticism lining his voice.
"Impossible," he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. It was only a few months ago that Fenrir had advanced to the fourth level. Such rapid progress seemed beyond the realm of possibility, especially considering that Fenrir still radiated an aura characteristic of the fourth level.
Yet the question lingered, prompting Logan to access the system and pull up Fenrir's attribute panel. His eyes widened in astonishment as he read the results. "This can't be right. Have you been giving him potions?"
The panel still displayed Fenrir at the fourth level, but with a note indicating a quasi-fifth level potential. This unexpected revelation hinted that Fenrir was on the cusp of a breakthrough, soon to become a fifth-level wolf.
"How did you improve so quickly?" Logan asked, patting Fenrir's head in wonder as the warg responded with a deep, resonant "Ooooooo...!!!"