บท 19: Youwa Tribe!
In the heart of the dense, shadow-draped forest lay the Youwa Tribe, a close-knit community of wolf beastman numbering fewer than four hundred souls. In this secluded world, the threat of famine loomed larger for smaller tribes such as theirs. Where larger tribes boasted reserves and robust foundations to weather the harshness of food scarcity, the Youwa found themselves teetering on the brink of despair, their options limited by a lack of resources, knowledge, and wealth.
At the tribe's entrance, a striking scene unfolded: a young beastmen, vibrant with youthful zeal, was perched atop a mighty warg. He was flanked by a cadre of valiant beastmen warriors, their arms laden with the bounty of their hunt, several beasts felled in the forest's depths. This young hunter, Tyton, the chief's own son, had a fire in his heart and a speed unmatched as he steered his mount past the tribe's boundaries, leaving his companions in his dust. He raced toward the chief's dwelling, the anticipation of his arrival causing a stir among the Youwa as they looked on with a mix of curiosity and concern.
The chief's residence, guarded by two formidable beastmen, was the epicenter of the tribe's governance. They barely had time to greet the young warrior before he dismounted in haste and bounded inside, his mind heavy with urgent questions.
"Titon, you've returned?" Chief Youwa, his face lighting up with a father's affection, greeted his son. The warmth in his voice belied the gravity of the situation they were about to discuss.
"Father, has the time come for us to wage war?" Tyton asked, his voice laden with a seriousness that seemed beyond his years. His return had been hastened by a cryptic message from his father, signalling a call to arms, a decision that baffled and concerned him deeply. The tribe was on the cusp of a dire food shortage, and the notion of launching into conflict under such precarious circumstances seemed to him a madness.
Tyton's astonishment was palpable as he pondered his father's strategy. Their small tribe, already struggling to sustain itself, now teetered on the verge of initiating a conflict. "Is this a bid for self-destruction?" he wondered silently, his mind racing with the implications of their precarious situation.
Chief Youwa, his eyes reflecting a mix of resolve and sorrow, nodded slowly. The weight of his decision was evident in his posture, a burden borne from the desperation to secure his people's future.
"Father, this is madness! Are we so eager to court our own end?" Tyton couldn't contain his disbelief, his words sharp with criticism. "To wage war now is to gamble with the very existence of the Youwa. We risk vanishing into the annals of history, destroyed by our on hand."
Chief Youwa's expression darkened, a storm brewing in his gaze as he faced his son's blunt challenge. The respect he held for Tyton, known for his wisdom and leadership, tempered his response. Though it pained him to admit, he knew his son's fears were not unfounded. The path he had chosen was fraught with peril, a desperate measure in desperate times.
Chief Youwa's gaze drifted off, a heavy sigh breaking the silence before he finally spoke, his voice tinged with resignation. "It's the
Duskin tribe. They approached me with an offer too pressing to ignore. Should we strike the first blow against the Silver Mane tribe, they've pledged us a lifeline, a bounty of 10,000 kg of food. And they've already delivered a thousand as a show of good faith."
"The desperation of our situation left me little room for refusal. Our stores are nearly depleted, and this alliance, albeit fraught with risk, promises a chance at survival."
Tyton's brow furrowed at the mention of the Silver Mane tribe. "The Silver Mane tribe?" he echoed, disbelief coloring his tone. Despite not being as formidable as the Duskin, the Silver Mane were far from a weak foe, certainly beyond what their modest tribe could hope to challenge alone.
Chief Youwa continued, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "And it's not just us. The Duskin tribe have enticed the Kala tribe, Samo, and Black Dermis tribes with the same offer. United, we would stand against the Silver Mane. Yet, even together, our numbers pale in comparison to their might."
Tyton's heart sank further, realizing the gravity of their plight. The prospect of joining forces with the other tribes, each as vulnerable as the Youwa, offered little in the way of reassurance.
"The temptation of 10,000 kg of grain is immense, true. But survival comes first. We must live to reap the rewards of our actions," Chief Youwa murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sensing his son's lingering doubts, he added, "There's another reason for my decision. A turn of fate has left the Silver Mane vulnerable. Their chief has perished in the Cross Mountains, and their warriors have suffered great losses."
"At this juncture, they are weakened, perhaps enough to tilt the scales in our favor should we unite with the others," he concluded, hope flickering in his eyes for the first time.
This revelation left Tyton reeling. The death of the Silver Mane chief was monumental news, potentially changing the dynamics of power within the forest. Recalling the recent loss their own tribe had suffered in the royal court's service, he couldn't help but weigh the new odds.
Yet, even with this advantage, Tyton remained conflicted. The inherent risks of their precarious alliance, coupled with the Silver Mane's residual strength, made success far from guaranteed. The path they were about to embark upon was fraught with danger, and the line between survival and extinction thinner than ever.
"The concept of an alliance amongst us is akin to herding together cats and dogs, a chaotic situation at best," Tyton voiced his concerns with a measure of levity, masking the gravity of his worries. "But, Father, have you paused to ponder the dire repercussions should our gamble falter?"
He continued, his voice now laced with solemnity, "Should we face defeat and our ranks be decimated, what will stop the Silver Mane from seeking vengeance against us? Or prevent other tribes from sensing weakness and circling like vultures?"
Chief Youwa offered a wistful smile, the weight of leadership etching deeper lines into his already weathered face. "My son, in these trying times, our focus must be on the immediacy of survival. The future holds its own burdens, ones we may never live to shoulder if we do not act now."
The room fell into a reflective silence, each lost in contemplation of the precarious path that lay ahead. It was during this moment of introspection that a guard, breathless and wide-eyed, burst into the chamber. "Sir Chief, a Warg rider approaches our gates—a messenger from the Silver Mane, seeking an audience with you!"
The news struck both father and son like a thunderclap, unsettling the fragile resolve they had mustered. The thought that the Silver Mane might already be aware of their intentions sent a ripple of shock through Chief Youwa. He turned to Tyton, seeking his counsel with a glance that conveyed both uncertainty and the need for swift decision-making.
Tyton, though unsettled by the development, maintained a veneer of calm. "We should meet with him. If the Silver Mane has dispatched an envoy, they are either unaware of our plans or seek to confront us head-on."
Nodding in agreement, Chief Youwa instructed the guard to usher in their unexpected guest. The tension in the air was palpable as they awaited the arrival of the Silver Mane's representative.
They did not have to wait long before a figure of imposing stature entered, clad in battle-worn armor that whispered tales of countless skirmishes. Tyton noted the warrior's level, a fourth-tier werewolf warrior, a rarity even within their own ranks.
"I greet you, Chief Youwa," the warrior intoned, his bow more a formality than a gesture of respect, his gaze unyielding and devoid of courtesy.
Chief Youwa, unphased by the lack of pleasantries, understood that in their world, respect was garnered through strength and mettle. "Welcome to our tribe. May I inquire as to the purpose of your visit to our humble abode?"
The warrior's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile; his demeanor unabashedly direct. "Humble, you say, yet it's come to our attention that an alliance may be forging against our tribe. Our leader dispatched me to ascertain the truth of these rumours."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in before adding, "We wish to ensure we stand against the right foes. I am Karl, deputy captain of the Silver Mane's second brigade."
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