New Subjects

The Tiger Tooth Tribe's camp lay northeast of Eagle's Beak, about twenty miles away.

The camp had been built on an open stretch beside the lake, surrounded by a double-layered iron oak palisade nearly twenty feet high. More than a dozen tall watchtowers stood inside the fence. Outside it lay a man-made moat, turning the entire camp into a small island connected to the lake.

Though its defenses could not compare to a noble's castle, such a camp was already considered formidable.

"Who goes there?"

From atop a watchtower, a wildling aimed his bow at the figure before the camp gate and asked warily.

Ever since the survivors of the battle at Eagle's Beak had returned to the tribe, the atmosphere in the camp had become exceptionally tense.

That crushing defeat had nearly wiped out more than half of the Tiger Tooth Tribe's able-bodied fighting force. For them, it was nothing short of a catastrophe.

"It's me, Chiman."

Upon hearing the familiar voice, the wildling guard lowered his bow and hurriedly opened the gate.

Chiman entered the camp without a word and asked directly:

"Where is my father?"

"After the chieftain received news of the defeat... he fell ill."

Chiman nodded expressionlessly.

"Take me to him."

"Yes."

Led by a servant, Chiman arrived at a small hut by the lake.

A brazier burned inside. The Tiger Tooth Tribe's shaman was tossing piles of strange plants into the flames while muttering under his breath.

Through the swirling smoke, Chiman saw his father lying on the bed, covered in the fangs of various beasts.

"Leave us."

The shaman hesitated, but ultimately left the hut with the servants.

Hearing the movement, the old chieftain opened his eyes. Looking at his youngest son approaching the bed, he parted his dry lips and asked weakly:

"Why are you alone? Where are Chika and Chimu?"

"They're both dead," Chiman said without expression.

The old chieftain closed his eyes in anguish, his body trembling faintly. It took him a long while to regain control of himself before he said:

"Immediately write to the fourteen nearby tribes in my name. Tell them that the Reachmen have invaded deep into the mountains granted to us by the gods. If they do not wish to be driven from the lands where they have lived for generations, they must unite and..."

"Father." Chiman cut him off. "Do you still want the tribe's warriors to keep bleeding?"

The old chieftain glanced at his youngest son and snapped:

"What? Has a single defeat already robbed you of your courage?"

Chiman met his father's gaze without flinching.

"This isn't a matter of courage. Father, you have seen the Reachmen and fought their army. Do you truly not understand where the gap between us lies?

Are the tribe's warriors any less brave than they are?

No!

What we lack is not courage, but mountains of bread and dried meat, finely forged steel weapons, knights born for war, and impregnable castles!

Without these, no matter how many wildlings we gather, we will never defeat the Reachmen!"

"Cough, cough, cough..." The old chieftain broke into a violent coughing fit, clearly infuriated by his son's words. "Then what do you want? Do you truly mean to surrender to the Reachmen? To become their slaves?"

"Not slaves. Subjects."

"Subjects? Hahaha... cough, cough, cough..." The old chieftain scoffed. "Have you seen the subjects ruled by those noble lords? What difference is there between them and slaves?"

Chiman retorted, "What about our tribesmen? They live even worse lives than those so-called 'slaves' you speak of."

"What did you say... cough, cough, cough, cough..." Enraged, the old chieftain sat upright, only to be seized by another fit of coughing.

He coughed so violently that it seemed as though he might cough out his heart and lungs.

Chiman watched his father coldly, with no intention of stepping forward to help. He even added fuel to the fire.

"Father, you are old. Your stubbornness will only drag the Tiger Tooth Tribe into the abyss of despair."

"Shut up!" the old chieftain cursed between ragged breaths. "What? You think you can decide the tribe's future? Wait until I'm dead, then..."

"Fine!"

Before he could finish, Chiman grabbed the tiger pelt from the bed and covered his father's head with it.

"Mmgh! Mmgh..."

The old chieftain struggled violently, but his young, strong son held him down firmly.

The flames in the center of the hut flickered fiercely, faintly reflecting the figures of father and son.

At last, the old chieftain stopped moving.

Chiman spread the tiger pelt back over his father, then returned the assorted beast teeth to their original places.

After finishing, he stared at his father's face for a long time. Finally, he rubbed his stiff face hard, putting on a panicked expression as he cried urgently:

"Father! What's wrong? Father! Saru! Saru!"

Hearing the call, the shaman Saru, who had been waiting outside, hurried into the hut.

"Quick, look at my father! He suddenly fainted just now!"

Saru checked the old chieftain's breath and was inwardly horrified.

When he turned around, he met Chiman's icy gaze.

Seeming to understand something, Saru quickly lowered his head.

"My apologies, Young Master Chiman. The chieftain... has returned to the gods' embrace."

"What? Father!"

Chiman threw himself onto the bed, embraced the old chieftain's corpse, and wailed loudly.

"My lord, you should not have accepted the allegiance of someone like Chiman."

On a high slope outside the Tiger Tooth Tribe's camp, Todd Flowers advised Samwell.

As Samwell watched the activity in the camp from afar, he asked:

"What kind of person is Chiman?"

"A kinslayer!" Todd said sternly. "If he can murder even his own blood relatives, what else would he not do?"

Samwell pointed at the distant camp and asked:

"How many soldiers would you need to take that camp?"

Todd froze for a moment before answering carefully:

"Five hundred, perhaps."

"And the casualties?"

"They could be considerable..."

Samwell sighed. "Yet Chiman can let us take this camp without losing a single soldier."

Todd frowned.

"My lord, why must we take this camp? After the previous battle, neither the Tiger Tooth Tribe nor the other wildling tribes in these mountains will dare invade us again. We only need to develop our territory in peace."

Samwell sighed inwardly.

There were some things he could not explain to Todd.

Developing peacefully was too slow, while the coming chaos would arrive too quickly. He did not have that much time.

Therefore, he had to increase the population of his territory as quickly as possible, and taking in wildlings was the fastest way.

As the strongest and most prestigious wildling tribe nearby, taking the Tiger Tooth Tribe would be immensely significant for subduing the wildlings.

At that moment, the camp gates suddenly opened, and seven or eight wildlings emerged, walking toward Samwell and his group.

Once they drew near, Samwell saw that the man in front was Chiman.

He slowly approached Samwell, knelt on the ground, and declared loudly:

"Honorable Lord Caesar, as the new chieftain of the Tiger Tooth Tribe, I offer the submission of all my tribesmen to you!"

Samwell stepped forward and said solemnly:

"I, Samwell Caesar, under the witness of the gods, accept every member of the Tiger Tooth Tribe as my subjects. From this day onward, I shall receive your support and grant you my protection."