As the founder of the Silver Mane Tribe, Barnett had seen his fair share of challenges. Yet, nothing had stunned him quite like Logan' vision for the future.
The idea of a tribal academy, a place to train the next generation of warriors, mages, and craftsmen, was revolutionary. If it came to fruition, it would lay the foundation for the Silver Mane Tribe to endure for centuries.
Barnett, though humble in his own background and abilities, understood the gravity of this vision.
"Good," he said simply, his voice heavy with the weight of agreement.
Logan nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, Grandpa. I asked you to lead the collage because there's no one I trust more. You've been a guiding figure for the tribe, and the academy will become the cornerstone of everything we build. All those who graduate will have a bond with you, and that will ensure loyalty and unity in the future."
Barnett smiled, a rare warmth softening his usually stern face. "I understand, boy. But remember, the academy isn't just about warriors and mages. It's about a legacy. And legacy is built on more than strength, it's built on the bonds we create."
Logan met his gaze with equal resolve. "Exactly. The bonds we forge now will shape the tribe for generations. That's why we need to start with a strong foundation."
He turned to his uncle Begon, his second-in-command. "Uncle Begon, the Warrior Temple is complete. I'll be working on the layout for the academy in the next few days. I'll need your input on where to place it within the tribe."
Begon gave a short nod, thoughtful. "Yes, we've got the manpower. The temple was just the beginning. We can spare the workers and resources for this."
"Good," Logan said, satisfied that his plans were moving forward. "But there's one more thing we need to address." He paused, then looked at Begon and Barnett with a serious expression. "It's about our tribe's fertility rates."
The mention of fertility caught both of them off guard. Begon blinked, then furrowed his brow. Barnett, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Fertility?" Begon asked, still processing the sudden shift in conversation.
"How many children under the age of one are there in the Silver Mane Tribe?" Logan asked, his tone calm but direct.
Begon hesitated, surprised by the question, but then responded, "Less than a thousand."
"Less than a thousand?" Logan repeated, as though weighing the number in his mind. "How many members are there in the tribe?"
Begon thought for a moment before replying. "More than 66,000."
"66,000, and fewer than 1,000 children under one year old?" Logan continued, his voice steady. "In a tribe of over 66,000, at least 15,000 should be women of childbearing age. So why are there so few newborns? Why are there not even 300 babies under six months old?"
Begon was taken aback. Barnett, too, looked at his grandson with growing concern. "Kid, why bring this up now?" Barnett asked, confusion lacing his voice. "It's a time of famine. Who would be having children with so many hardships around us?"
Logan didn't flinch. He'd anticipated this response. "True, Uncle. It is a difficult time. But the Silver Mane Tribe isn't starving. We have enough food. So why aren't we seeing more births?"
Barnett laughed softly, but there was an edge of frustration to it. "What are the conditions for having a child? Food, shelter, safety. The wilderness is still in chaos, and many orc couples are reluctant to bring new lives into such uncertain times. And let's not forget the number of parents who lost children over the past year. That alone makes orcs hesitant."
Logan shook his head. "You're right about the famine, Grandpa. But it's not just about food. It's about something deeper." He paused, making sure they understood the weight of his next words. "The Silver Mane Tribe has grown too quickly. To many of the orcs who joined us, we were just a small tribe ten months ago. Now, we've rapidly expanded, but that's not enough to erase the uncertainty."
He looked directly at his uncle Begon. "The orcs who joined us from other tribes don't know if we'll last. The ones from the old tribes don't know either. They've seen the speed of our growth, but they also wonder: how long can this last? Can we really hold on to this newfound power? No one feels secure yet."
Barnett's expression turned serious. "But we've got food, boy. More than enough to sustain us. They should know that by now."
Begon, who had also been startled, stood beside him, his eyes wide. Out at the gates was a figure that towered over everyone else; a gigantic creature nearly ten meters tall.
A female 'elephant-man'.
Logan had heard of such creatures before but had never encountered one in person. And never had he seen one so massive. Her size was almost... unnatural.
"How is this possible?" Begon muttered, his voice tinged with awe. "Where did she come from?"
With some effort, Logan forced himself to move toward the massive figure, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervous curiosity.
The 'elephant-man' was an imposing sight. Her body was thick with muscle, like a fortress on two legs, and her tusks jutted out proudly from either side of her face. She seemed to radiate power, an aura of strength that was hard to ignore.
Her name, as Logan quickly saw from the system interface, was 'Ray'.
She was an orc-elephant hybrid, a warrior, and her physical stats were nothing short of impressive: peak level 6, with a system evaluation placing her as "quasi-level 7."
'Thirteen years old?' Logan thought in disbelief. "This girl's barely an adult, but she's already towering over the tribe."
As his eyes drifted from the elephant-man, his gaze fell on the figure standing beside her. The orc was much smaller, but still formidable in his own right. He wore a mixture of tattered armor and animal hides, his boots worn with age and use. A weathered hat obscured most of his face, but the man's energy was undeniable.
Name: 'Hoyle Fred'
Race: Orc
Age: 75
Occupation: Wood Magician
Strength: Peak Rank 7 (Quasi-Rank 8)
'Seventy-five?' Logan thought, astonished by the man's age. But even more astonishing was the fact that the beastmen had achieved such power in his lifetime. A 'wood magician', and a quasi-level 8 at that?
Logan couldn't help but admire the man's strength.
The orc slowly lifted his hat, revealing sharp, intelligent eyes that regarded Logan with calm interest. His voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly soft and gentle.
"Hello," the beastmen said, his tone respectful. "I am Hoyle Fred. Are you Mr. Logan?"
Logan blinked, momentarily thrown by the orc's graceful demeanor. He studied the man for a moment before responding. "Yes, I'm Logan. But I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to meet someone like you today."
Hoyle Fred smiled faintly, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened. "I understand. It's not often that we come to the Silver Mane Tribe, but the circumstances... well, let's just say they've brought us here. I've heard much about you and your leadership."
Ray, the giant elephant-woman beside him, stood silently but watchfully, her large, tusked face a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
Logan didn't know whether to be impressed or apprehensive. The arrival of these two was a game-changer for the tribe, and he had a feeling that their presence could mean much more than just an unexpected visit.
"Come," Logan said, stepping forward with a welcoming gesture. "Let's talk. I'm sure you have much to say, and I'm eager to hear it."