"My Lord Chief," Surshen began, his voice trembling slightly as he bowed deeply, "since the Duskin Tribe has submitted to the Silver Mane Tribe, we are now your people. As members of the Silver Mane Tribe, it is our duty; no, our honor, to stand united against the coalition forces. We dare not take any undue credit for fulfilling this duty!" His words spilled out hurriedly, as if afraid to be interrupted.
Kule and Mamuti exchanged startled glances. They could scarcely believe what they were hearing. Surshen, the ever-defiant and prideful leader of the Duskin Tribe, was groveling with such fervent loyalty. This wasn't the Surshen they knew.
For Mamuti, the shock was personal. He had grown up knowing his fifth uncle to be unyielding, a man who would never bow his head. But something had changed. Ever since Surshen witnessed Logan casually incapacitate Arar, the formidable chief of the Adik Tribe, with a single blow, his defiance seemed to evaporate overnight. That display of raw, unbridled power had rattled him to his core.
Mamuti, too, had been shaken. At first, he rationalized it. His father was only a level six warrior, while Logan stood at level seven, a clear disparity in strength. But even then, a single move to leave a seasoned warrior like Arar critically injured? It was unfathomable. Worse yet, he realized he had underestimated Logan in the past. The last time he came to redeem him, Logan had seemed no stronger than a mere level four. Now, in just a few months, the young chief's power had grown to a degree that seemed almost supernatural.
Kule felt the same. As they watched Logan, both men couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, a calm yet overwhelming pressure that demanded submission.
Meanwhile, Begon and the others looked on with faint amusement, their eyes flitting between Surshen and his companions. The irony wasn't lost on anyone. The Duskin Tribe, once notorious for its ambition to annex the Silver Mane Tribe, now stood humiliated and desperate. For decades, the Duskin Tribe had boasted superior numbers, yet it had been the unshakable strength of the Silver Mane Tribe's leadership that had kept them at bay. And now? The mighty Duskin Tribe had folded like a weak hand in a game of cards.
Logan regarded Surshen and the others with an unreadable expression, his piercing gaze making their skin crawl. He allowed the silence to linger, watching as beads of sweat formed on Surshen's brow.
At last, he broke the tension. "It's good to see that you've come to understand your place." His voice was calm but carried the weight of authority. "Now, tell me, what are your thoughts on relocating the Duskin Tribe?"
The question was posed with a disarming smile, but to Surshen, it felt like a test. Was this a trap? He hesitated for only a moment before replying, choosing his words carefully. "Master Chief," he said, bowing deeply once more, "we will return to the tribe immediately. By tomorrow, we will begin relocating all our people to the Silver Mane Tribe's territory."
Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "So quick? I like that. Very well, ensure your people know that they'll be provided for. The Silver Mane Tribe has enough food and shelter to go around. Let them come without hesitation."
Logan's expression didn't soften. "I know resources are stretched thin, and prioritizing our own wounded was a necessity," he acknowledged after a moment, his tone measured. "But these men, these new warriors; they've chosen to stand with us. Their lives are now our responsibility. Make sure every single one of them knows that."
"Yes, my Lord," Begon said, his voice steady, though he felt the weight of his nephew's words. He knew, deep down, that prioritizing their own tribe had been inevitable. With over 2,000 wounded orcs to tend to, even the most skilled healers couldn't handle such an influx at once. But he also understood why Logan had to take this stance; unity was fragile, and the Silver Mane Tribe couldn't afford divisions or resentment among their new members.
Surshen, watching the exchange, felt a mix of relief and gratitude. Logan turned to him and spoke with deliberate reassurance. "Surshen, rest assured, your men are no longer outsiders. They are part of the Silver Mane Tribe now, and they will be treated as such. Go back and tell them they won't be forgotten."
Surshen bowed deeply, his voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you, Lord Chief! I will let them know your kindness and care."
"Good," Logan said with a nod. "You may go."
Surshen and his companions bowed again, backing out of the conference hall with a renewed sense of respect and loyalty for their new chief.
Once the three had left, Logan turned back to Begon. His voice was quieter now, yet still carried the authority of a leader. "Uncle, you weren't wrong to prioritize our own tribe's wounded. I won't deny that. But moving forward, we need to make it clear: whether they're from the Silver Mane Tribe or new members like the Duskin warriors, we are one people now. Treat them all with the same care. Unity depends on it."
Begon nodded, understanding the deeper meaning behind Logan's words. "I'll make sure the healers know, my Lord," he said sincerely.
Satisfied, Logan dismissed the meeting. A few hours later, Kro, Lots, and Allen led a rested contingent of warriors to march out of the Silver Mane Tribe's territory, their confidence bolstered by their leader's resolve.
Meanwhile, whispers spread among the tribe. The Silver Mane Tribe was on the verge of becoming something greater, a force stronger than ever before. The unity of its people, old and new, was the foundation of its future strength. And in the days to come, that strength would solidify further, marking a new era for the Silver Mane Tribe