The Elder’s hall was packed tight, the air thick with the sll of woodsmoke and a tension completely foreign to Elderglen. There was no panic or impending doom. For the first ti in over a decade, the village council had gathered not to discuss how to survive a crisis, but to figure out what to do with a sudden, overwhelming vacuum of power.
"The northern pass is clear," Korin stated, leaning his heavy fra against the wooden table at the center of the room. He pointed a thick finger at the crude map unrolled before him. "The Blood-Iron settlent is a tomb. We swept the periter this morning. Nothing is moving up there except the wind."
A murmur of disbelief and lingering awe rippled through the gathered veterans and village elders.
"So... it’s truly done," a gray-haired woman near the fire said softly, shaking her head. "We don’t owe tribute next moon."
"We don’t owe tribute ever again, Nobara" the Village Elder corrected, leaning heavily on his wooden cane. His ancient eyes scanned the room, settling on for a brief, acknowledging second before moving back to the map. "But surviving the night ans we must now plan for the morning. The Blood-Iron Tribe controlled the entire northern ridge. With them gone, this valley is entirely unprotected, but also entirely unrestricted."
"We should expand the palisades," a younger hunter suggested eagerly. "Let’s take the lower riverbed. We’ve been cramd behind these walls for years because it wasn’t safe to farm the outer banks."
"Expanding takes lumber and manpower," Korin countered pragmatically. "Manpower we are short on right now."
"What about claiming the Blood-Iron territory?" another veteran asked, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "There is raw iron ore in those upper caves. If we establish a mining camp—"
"If we claim their territory, we claim their enemies," the Elder interrupted, his voice raspy but firm. "Do not let victory make you foolish. We are just a village, not an army."
I stood leaning against the back wall, keeping my mouth shut and simply listening. It was fascinating watching a localized society try to adapt to a sudden shift in the food chain.
As the argunts bounced back and forth, the sheer scale of the demonic hierarchy slowly began to make sense to . Through their debates over territory and resources, I pieced together the reality of the mountain’s politics.
Most demonic settlents didn’t exist independently. They survived by living under the umbrella of much stronger, larger tribes. Paying exorbitant tribute wasn’t just extortion; it was the accepted tax for existing. The Blood-Iron Tribe had been Elderglen’s suffocating umbrella.
"If we don’t claim the territory, another tribe will eventually move in," Korin argued, crossing his massive arms. "Nature abhors a vacuum. And so do the warlords further south. If a larger demonic tribe realizes Elderglen is sitting here completely independent, without a Chief holding the lease, they’ll march on us just to make an example."
Independent villages like Elderglen were anomalies. By wiping out the Blood-Iron Tribe, we hadn’t just saved the village we had effectively declared Elderglen a sovereign state in a world ruled by warlords.
Before the Elder could reply, the heavy wooden doors of the hall burst open. A young scout, his face flushed red from running, stood in the doorway gasping for air.
Weapons were instantly drawn. The relaxed atmosphere shattered in a fraction of a second. Korin had his broadsword half out of its scabbard before the boy even took a step inside.
"Report!" Korin barked. "Are we under attack?"
"No!" the scout wheezed, holding his hands up and leaning against the doorfra to catch his breath. "Not attack. It’s... it’s the southern road, Uncle Korin. Past the weeping pines."
"Spit it out, boy," the Elder demanded, gripping his cane tightly.
"Wagons," the scout finally managed to say, his eyes wide with absolute disbelief. "A rchant caravan. A big one. They’re making camp about two miles down the valley. They’ve got the banners of the rchant guild."
The hall fell dead silent. Then, the room erupted. The ambition and tactical debates were completely swept away by a wave of pure, unadulterated excitent.
"rchants?" Nobara gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Here?"
I frowned, looking at Korin. "Is that unusual?"
"Unusual?" Korin let out a bark of a laugh, letting his sword slide back into its sheath. "Ren, a guild caravan hasn’t co up the southern road in six years. The Blood-Iron Tribe taxed them so heavily and occasionally ate their draft beasts, that the rchants blacklisted this entire valley. We’ve been trading scraps with wandering peddlers ever since."
"But with the tribe gone, the roads are safe," the Elder realized, his face breaking into a wide, genuine smile. "Word must have traveled faster than we thought. The trade routes are opening."
The implications were massive. Elderglen wasn’t just getting spices and new cloth. They were getting a lifeline to the wider world. Information, resources, and a way to finally rebuild the village’s stagnant economy.
"They will want to negotiate trading rights for the season," the Elder said, instantly shifting into a diplomatic mindset. He looked around the room. "We need to send representatives to et them at the gates. We need to show them that Elderglen is stable and ready for business."
The Elder’s eyes landed on Korin.
"Absolutely not," Korin said instantly, holding his hands up and taking a large step backward.
"You are the captain of the guard, Korin," the Elder reasoned.
"And I would rather wrestle a cave bear naked than sit through a negotiation with a Guild rchant," Korin grunted, shaking his head stubbornly. "They talk in circles and they’ll try to swindle us for our pelts. Send soone who knows how to read a ledger."
A few of the veterans nodded in solemn agreent. Korin’s diplomatic strategy usually involved throwing people out of windows.
"Very well," the Elder sighed, tapping his cane on the floorboards. His eyes scanned the crowd and locked onto a young woman standing quietly near the ledger books. "Lyra. You managed the inventory for the hunters all winter. Your numbers are flawless."
Lyra blinked, clearly startled by being addressed in front of the entire council. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Elder, I... I am just a quartermaster. I don’t know how to negotiate with a Guild Master."
"You won’t have to do the intimidating," the Elder smiled warmly. He turned his gaze to . "Ren will go with you
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