When the Stormhorn Tribe arrived at the clearing where the barracks used to stand, they were welcod by several people waiting for their arrival.
At the front was a young man with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He sat on the back of a white horse with wings, his spine straight.
It was none other than Leone, mounted on Arion. They had descended from the mountain to et Brann and the mbers of his tribe.
Yuni and a few warriors of the Aslan Tribe had co along, serving as Leone’s personal guard.
They decided to escort Leone so they could protect him just in case sothing unexpected happened. After all, no one knew what could happen. Especially since the majority of the Stormhorn Tribe would be eting Leone for the first ti.
"Welco back to Aslan Soleil, Brann," Leone greeted him with a smile. "Please, feel free to treat this place as your new ho."
The Chieftain of the Stormhorn Tribe still felt a bit anxious, unable to guess how Leone would treat him and his tribe after they arrived at Grimjaw Mountain.
But seeing the smile on the young man’s face, all his worries vanished out of thin air.
"Thank you for providing assistance during our ti of need, Leone," Brann replied with a smile. "If not for your help, we might not be standing before you today."
"Don’t ntion it. I only did what I thought was right," Leone stated. "Please follow . I have prepared temporary hos for all of you near the river beside the mountain."
There were two rivers in the territory of Grimjaw Mountain. One of them was located near the temporary quarters of the captured prisoners, while the second one was made to accommodate the Stormhorn Tribe.
Leone made sure they couldn’t interact with each other. Otherwise, the captives might attack the Stormhorn Tribe and take them as hostages to get what they want from Leone.
The chances of that happening were slim. However, Leone didn’t want to take that risk.
As they followed the young man and his retinue to the location of their temporary accommodations, the mbers of the Stormhorn Tribe couldn’t help but marvel at the fortress on the mountain.
So of the warriors only heard stories about the Aslan Tribe’s victory against the Bloodtusk Tribe.
But after seeing their defenses, the warriors secretly thanked their chieftain for not sending them to participate in the Bloodtusk Tribe’s expedition.
Several minutes later, they finally arrived at what seed like a small village made of several three-story wooden houses.
All the houses were well-made, making Brann wonder if this village had already existed before the war started.
"Please, take all the injured to that house over there." Leone pointed at the biggest house. "Kael and mbers of the Riverfang Tribe who are proficient in treating injuries are already waiting to help your injured warriors."
After hearing their wounds would finally be treated, the warriors wasted no ti.
Those who could still move supported their injured comrades, while others carefully carried the severely wounded toward the large house, eager to receive proper care at last.
Brann was also injured, but he prioritized the treatnt of his n before his own.
However, Leone had a different opinion.
"Brann, you are the pillar of your people," Leone said calmly. "So, you should get treated as well. I know that you care a lot about them, but what will they do if you collapse? Please get treated first. We will also start cooking sothing and soon serve you proper als."
"Thank you, Leone," Brann replied. "I’ll make sure to get treatnt once the last of my injured warriors are carried inside."
Hearing this, Leone no longer insisted. He understood that Brann prioritized his people, and he admired him for it.
Because of this, he ordered Ulric and his n to help carry the injured n.
He was a little worried that the warriors of the Stormhorn Tribe would collapse from exhaustion while carrying their seriously wounded brethren.
Such tragedy could’ve led to serious consequences. So, in order to prevent it from happening, he asked them to help right away.
Seeing more hands help out to carry the injured, Brann finally decided to get his own injuries treated.
He was only persisting through sheer willpower.
Since the day he left Grimjaw Mountain to return to his tribe, Brann hadn’t gotten proper sleep.
With that, the mont he laid down on the bedroll prepared for the wounded, he fell asleep instantly.
Gromm looked at his sleeping father, whose body was covered with shallow wounds. His father had gotten them from fighting against their pursuers.
Deep down, he was against his decision of moving to Grimjaw Mountain to beco part of the Aslan Tribe.
He thought that his father was simply overthinking things. Gromm thought that the middle-ranked tribes would leave them alone just like they always did.
However, he was wrong.
Even after evacuating their ancestral lands, the Grimfang Tribe pursued them as if they were criminals that were on the run.
If they had delayed their journey just a little longer, then they might have already been overtaken by their pursuers.
Gromm could only imagine the hardships they would’ve faced if they were forcefully absorbed by the Grimfang Tribe.
Now that he could put this incident behind him, he beca more impressed by his father’s foresight.
It was then that he sensed a presence standing beside him.
Gromm looked to his right, only to see Leone calmly looking down at Brann, who was snoring slightly in his sleep.
"My father believed that our salvation is here in Grimjaw Mountain," Gromm said in a volu only Leone could hear. "I just hope he is right."
"My mother once told that salvation is sothing you give yourself." Leone placed his hands behind his back. "I don’t know why your father said that, but I’ll do my best so he will not regret his decision to co here."
"I hope for that as well." Gromm clenched his fists tightly. "Tell , Leone Frontera. When you were exiled here in the Borderlands, did you feel like you lost everything? Because that’s how I feel right now.
"We left our ho and our legacy behind. Even now, I want to ask the heavens... What did we ever do wrong? We only did our best to survive, so why must we suffer like this? Why must we be treated like tools by the middle-ranked tribe and dogs by the high-ranking tribes? Why is life so unfair?"
"Life is never fair," Leone replied. "If it were, everyone would be living their wildest dreams without a care in the world.
He shifted his gaze from Brann to the other wounded warriors lying on the ground. Those who had fought hard for those they held sacred, as well as their injuries, were the badges of honor that proved it.
"However, fairness is not what keeps people alive," Leone continued. "It’s the choices you make when everything is taken from you. You can curse the world for all the unfairness you’ve suffered or you can show it that you won’t break no matter how hard life tries to ss you up."
Gromm remained silent, gritting his teeth hard from the anger he felt in his heart.
He could tell that Leone was speaking from his heart. The Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe was speaking from his own experience after being exiled to the Borderlands, away from his family and the comfortable life that he once had.
"When I was exiled," Leone added, his voice steady. "I thought I had lost everything as well. My family, my ho, and my future. But in truth, I had only lost what others gave ."
He then looked at Gromm, his blue eyes calm but unwavering.
"What remained... was sothing no one could take," Leone declared.
Gromm t his gaze. "And that is?"
"My will to survive," Leone answered.
A brief silence passed between them.
"Your tribe didn’t lose everything," Leone said with a smile. "You’re still here. Your father is still alive. Your people are still breathing. As long as that remains... then this isn’t the end of your story."
Gromm glanced back at Brann, who was sleeping soundly despite his wounds.
"Then, what now?" Gromm asked. "What happens to us now?"
So of the mbers of the Stormhorn Tribe were also quietly listening to their conversation. This was the question that most of them were asking themselves.
What were they supposed to do now?
Even those who were injured paid close attention to what Leone was going to say next.
"Now?" Leone’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Now you create the beginning of your own legend."
The young man then glanced at the people who were all looking at him. He held their gazes for a few seconds before shifting his attention back to Gromm.
"Rember this, and rember it well," Leone said, his voice firm and strong. "The Grimfang Tribe has tried to break all of you... and they will soon regret that they didn’t finish the job properly.
"Just like the grudge I keep in my heart against the King of the Kingdom of Britannia, who exiled to the Borderlands. One day, I will return and kick him off his throne. When that day arrives... You, Gromm, will be there to laugh by my side."
Gromm and the mbers of the Stormhorn Tribe suddenly felt their blood boil from those words.
Indeed, they would rember this grudge. And just like Leone, they would make the Grimfang Tribe regret that they didn’t finish them... when they still had the chance.
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