Herald of Steel

Faced with the sea of adoring fans in front of his house, Metztil found he had two choices out- the easy way, or the hard way.

It did not take long for the intoxicated by power- Metztil to choose one.

And certainly, the hard way was too inconvenient for him, for he did not dare to speak the hard truth in front of the gathered crowd.

Now, alongside Metztil's personal reluctance, it could be argued that there were also political considerations here.

The entire tribe was there, going to show just how great the allure of land was to everyone.

And even the usually bellicose, fearless chief who ignored his advisors a lot of the time could not ignore this.

If Metztil disappointed them here and now, if he brought them back from building castles in the cloud back to reality, there was no way people would let him off easily for 'lying' to them.

They would surely find a way to bury him.

Heck, who knows, they might even start a riot right here, right now, and burn him, his house, and his entire family down to the ground, just like he had done to their dreams.

Metztil thus decided that it would be far more amicable if he simply pretended to go with the flow.

Hence towards the cheering crowd, he neither said yes nor no, but he simply let them continue with their celebrations, pretending that was indeed the deal.

He hoped that this way the people would calm down after a few days and then he could gently 'readjust' their dreams.

And who knows, perhaps if he was lucky enough, they would even forget about the whole thing by then.

Of course, given the 'quality' and magnitude of their dream, that was a wish reaching for the stars and far above.

No way were the people simply let go of their most cherished ambition.

And this was something that not only Metztil's advisors, but even the person closest to him, his wife, and the chief shaman strongly pointed out, insisting that Metztil change tactics.

She urged, "You should not be so passive. Strike at these rats while you still can. Because there is no way the people will forget. They will not let them forget."

"Let me tell you… the temples in the last few days have been overflowing with people. I probably have not seen so many even during the Panquell festival. Just in the last three ways, I was forced to hold two grand prayers of thanks. Two!"

The lady said the last word with great stress, showing its significance.

These special prayers were held just once a year, usually during autumn to thank the native spirits for that year's harvest.

This was their greatest celebration of the year and not only was it very elaborate, it was also expensive.

It was even quite tiring for the shamans to perform given all the ritual chants and dances involved.

Thus outside of the harvest, such prayers were only offered after immense victories or great deeds.

Yet, the people had such prayers now even before they got a whiff of the prize.

Even without seeing the prize, they were already washing their plates and readying their cutlery.

In the eyes of this senior shaman, this was simply putting the horse before the cart.

This he was not done pushing her husband yet, as following the recounts of her 'office', she further added,

"And that is not all. Every day there are parties in at least half of the households here… drinking and praising the spirits for granting them new land. Many of the inns even offer free wine after night to everyone in your name, causing people to sing your praises. Those bastards… are really going all out!" 𝘙ÅΝộ𝖇ΕŚ

As the lady revealed this, instead of being happy about the people praising her husband to the moon, Metztil's wife only gritted her teeth, her eyes burning up with rage.

This was a clear ploy and clearly Metztil's rivals had betted quite heavily on it, going almost all out. Because sponsoring such unhinged drinking was without a doubt extremely expensive.

Not even the richest of the rich in the Helvati could afford to do this for too long.

Yet they had done so, all with the goal of trapping Metztil to an inescapable corner.

And indeed, as time went by, Metztil felt increasingly more and more trapped.

He began to realize he had grossly underestimated the extent of the trap that was laid out for him.

His rivals were not content to just disseminate the rumor, they also worked to churn the mixture and keep it bubbling, never letting the people rest.

The people were constantly reminded of the promise- be it through side talks in the inns, shops, or restaurants, large merry processions in the streets, and even public songs and dances.

And if that was not enough, after some time, Metztil's enemies took their conspiracy to the next level.

They began to release the full details of the suggested deal between the two parties, even selling the thing in stores for a paltry price- just the cost of the papyrus it was written in was perhaps twice the retell value, forget about the ink and labor price.

But these things were never meant to be profitable in the first place. Their purpose was for something entirely different and in that they were fully successful, selling out like hotcakes.

"Take it! We will never charge anything for the people's dreams. This is our tribe's most cherished wish! Take it and share it with your friends and family."

Those shopkeepers shouted as they sold these 'charms' as they called them.

In this way, even before Metztil got a chance to redeem himself, he was boxed in and trapped. Armed with 'undeniable proof' the people became completely convinced that such a deal had indeed been stuck and all they needed to do now was wait with bated breath for their chief to just see it through.

Hence, if Metztil was to now speak up and claim there was no such deal, even in the best case scenario, the people were sure to assume that he was simply incompetent and a fool who once again got fooled by the outsiders.

And given the native's history, one did not need to be a genius what kind of effect such a moniker would have on one, much less the chief.

Without a doubt, Metztil would be replaced, forfeiting his life. Even his family would be lucky to escape that tragedy.

However, despite knowing the dangers, Metztil was unable to pull himself out.

He felt like he was drowning in quicksand, the more he struggled, the greater the hold of the earth became on him.

The more he appeared in front of the crowd and reassured them that he would not fail them, the more tenuous his position began.

It even got to the point that one day one of Metztil's most hated rivals greeted him with a warm smile and gently clapped on the shoulders,

"Haha... Chief Metztil, truly you are the hero of our tribe. I am nothing to you. Soon every child of the Helvati will be singing of your greatness for all eternity!"

The sarcasm and disdain laden with each and every those spoken words was not lost to Metztil.

And if things were not bad enough for Metztil inside his tribe, his external allies also soon began to distance themselves from him.

The other tribal chiefs instantly detected the abnormality of their surrounding strongest tribe and quickly worked to guard themselves against such a thing.

Banding together, they unanimously let out a joint statement that read, "The deal about the land is exclusively between the Margraves and Helvati. None of us are privy to the details. We are preparing a delegation to meet with Chief Metztil and discuss the matter!"

In this way, they guarded themselves against their own people wanting the same.

It was just too bad Metztil had no such luck.

And when Metztil first heard of this 'betrayal', he was so angry that he even strangled two of his favorite maids using bare hands.

His last hope of getting out of this trap was dashed.

Metztil had counted on these experienced men to help him quell the tide.

Or if they were unable to do that, at least help him put pressure on the Margraves to concede to their original promises.

However, these experienced old foxes were simply not interested in such due to various reasons and felt rather content to sit back and watch.

Among them some wanted the Helvati to weaken themselves so that they could replace them as the top dog.

Others actively supported Metztil's rivals and hedged their bets on them.

While some had personal grudges against Metztil, recalling the time this warlord had attacked his tribe or taken something from him.

The most clever of the bunch even feared they would be plotted against by Metztil and be sacrificed as scapegoats, portrayed as traitors who were colluding with the outsiders to destroy the Helvati.

And lastly, there were those who were simply too small and weak to matter.

All this went to explain Metztil's current state, who was abandoned by all his allies and left to enter the lion's den all alone.

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