"So they think they can beco a real tribe," he said coldly. "Last ti, I was generous. I only sent a small team to test them, and they all died. This ti, I will not play. I will sneak a powerful attack and catch them when they are comfortable."
In his heart, he had already decided.
They were just a small village that grew a little too fast. They might have a few strong males and a female who knew a few tricks. So what. They did not have the numbers or the history he had. They would not dare attack him first. They would not dare leave their village.
He was the most powerful village king in this area.
They should fear him.
They should kneel.
He leaned forward, eyes glinting.
"Keep spying," Rokai ordered. "Learn their guard rotations. How many n stand on the wall at night. Where the forest is quietest. After that, prepare enough n. I want everyone ready for an attack when I say the word."
"Yes, King," the ssenger said quickly, bowing deeper. "I will watch them carefully."
As the ssenger left, Rokai leaned back again and crossed his arms.
In his mind, he already saw the lion tribe’s wall breaking under his warriors’ charge. He saw their n kneeling and their won crying. He saw that goddess dragged before him, her arrogance broken.
He smiled.
Snow tapped against the narrow window, but the room felt hot.
Back in the lion tribe, the weather was cold, but inside one corner of the stone palace, a warm and strange sll slowly began to spread.
It was morning. The snow outside reflected the weak sunlight, making the world look bright despite the cold.
Isabella stood in the palace’s biggest indoor fire room, hands on her waist, staring at the flat cooking stones and fire pits like they had offended her.
Her n sat not far away, peeling roots and cutting at for lunch. Cyrus was the closest, always hovering like her personal shadow.
"Isabella, what are you thinking about?" Cyrus finally could not hold it in. "You have been staring at the stones for a long ti. Are they ugly?"
Isabella clicked her tongue.
"I want to eat cake," she said seriously.
Cyrus blinked.
"Cake?" he repeated. He tried to think of what beast that could be. "Is that... an animal? Do you want to hunt it?"
Isabella almost choked.
She turned to look at him with a complicated expression.
"It is food," she said. "Sweet food. Soft. Like a fluffy stone that slls good. I used to eat it a lot before I ca here."
Cyrus’s eyes lit up imdiately.
"Then we will make it," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Tell what you need. I will get it."
Isabella’s heart softened.
This snake really had no resistance when it ca to her cravings.
She thought carefully.
She did not have tal bowls, cups, or an oven. She had no sugar in the modern sense, but she had honey and so sweet fruits.
The village now had grains that had been harvested from the mountain seeds. They had eggs from birds and milk from beasts.
In her mind, a system window quietly opened, showing a list of shiny, ready made cooking tools she could buy from the shop.
[Stone Age Oven Set,] Bubu recomnded. [Cos with temperature control rune. Only costs a large amount of points that you totally do not need for survival later.]
Isabella stared at the ridiculous price.
"Get lost," she told Bubu silently. "Do you want to beco a broke goddess who cannot even afford to buy dicine when I go into labor?"
Bubu coughed in her mind.
[Host is very realistic,] she muttered. [Fine. Then use your clever ape brain and think.]
Isabella ignored her.
She looked around the room.
There was a deep stone pit that they sotis used to roast whole beasts, covered with heated stones. There were flat stones that worked like pans. There were clay pots that could be covered with lids.
A slow smile spread across her face.
She could not create a modern oven, but she could still bake sothing if she used heat from stones and covered containers cleverly.
Her gaze swept over the supplies stacked against the wall.
Sacks of ground grain, clay jars of honey, baskets of eggs, a pot of beast milk, so dried fruits that the won had stored.
Her fingers itched.
Isabella rolled up her sleeves and walked over to the supplies.
Cyrus instantly followed.
"What do you need?" he asked again, eyes full of expectation. "Say it. I will carry it, grind it, wash it. You should not lift heavy things."
Kian, Zyran, and Osiris, who had been pretending not to listen, all turned their heads slightly.
Cake?
Isabella glanced at them from the corner of her eye.
So they were not interested, right? Their ears were only pointed in her direction because of the wind, right?
She snorted softly.
"We will need ground grain, eggs, milk, honey, and so fruit," she said. "Cyrus, bring the grain and honey here. Kian, go ask the storage if we still have the softest beast milk. Zyran, go beat so eggs. Do not spill them, or I will break your head."
Zyran pressed his hand to his chest.
"Is this how you talk to the most handso man in your village?" he said in a wounded tone. "You should ask gently. ’Zyran, my dear, can you go beat so eggs for your mate?’"
Isabella raised her foot and kicked his calf lightly.
"Zyran, my dear, if you do not move, I will beat you together with the eggs," she said.
Zyran laughed and ran off, cloak swishing.
Osiris leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with amusent. He felt a bit sad that Isabella hadn’t asked hik for anything.
"Do you not need a fire bird to control the heat?" he asked casually. "I happen to be very talented at making fire warm and steady..."
Isabella thought about it.
That was actually useful.
She looked at him and nodded.
"Fine. Osiris, you can help watch the fire later," she said. "But if you burn my cake, I will pluck your feathers."
Osiris smiled.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with playful light.
"For you, I will let you pluck a few," he said softly.
Cyrus, who was carrying a sack of grain, almost tripped.
Kian’s jaw tightened slightly as he walked toward the storage.
Isabella pretended not to see any of their reactions.
Her mind was already racing through the steps.
Stone age cake. No mould. No oven. Only stones, fire, clay pots, and a pregnant woman with strong cravings.
It would either be a miracle or a disaster.
She rubbed her hands together, eyes shining.
"Let us see," she murmured to herself. "If I can survive here, I can bake a simple cake."
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