Herald of Steel

"Chief Metztil, I will need your answer by this week. And I hope by then, will have at least 10,000 men ready to march. Any later, and I will look for other options."

Metztil recalled Alexander's tight deadline as he slowly made his way back on the horse, the details of the new deal still tucked inside his coat.

And recalling all the things that had happened, a range of complex emotions played inside him.

He had come here with his war paint on, readying to snatch all that was promised to him. Yet, he left with 'mixed' results.

The meeting with Alexander had been a very interesting one, to say the least, opening his eyes to so many different perspectives.

Among the many things that Alexander said, the ones that particularly stuck with him were the statements made about the state of the natives and the impossibility of their dreams.

Although Metztil hated to the bone to admit it, Alexander was right- wishing to get back to their old ways was little more than a pipe dream.

And besides, why would they?

Before the natives had the Margraves as the enemy, it was not like they were peaceful, white as driven snow saints.

The law of the jungle had been there long before the others came to the island, only back then, it was the various tribes that were busy tearing each other apart.

And sometimes they were even more brutal to each other than the outsiders, acting little more than like mindless animals.

It was hardly the utopian place that most common natives were taught to believe.

And tragically, this culture even existed till now.

You would think after a few centuries of oppression, these tribes would band together and point all their aggression toward the one single group that was pushing them to extinction.

But nope!

The reality was quite the opposite.

The scarcity of resources like food and land among the natives meant even more intense competition, causing even more strife among the tribes.

Even Metztil's own tribe was intimately involved in such conflict, and only got to the top of the food chain by taking advantage of the bloodshed.

During Metztil's father's generations, they had allied with a few other tribes to attack the previous top dog and swallow large swathes of its land.

However, the general natives were sick and tired of such infighting, and so even if they were given the chance, Metztil doubted whether his people actually wanted to go back.

Perhaps it was only something they pretended to believe in, nodding in front of their shamans to put on the facade of reverence.

And even those that truly wished to remain 'untainted', found it very hard. All the shiny and new things were too dazzling.

Most people could not resist having these goods.

If they could, Metztil would not have had to ban trade with the outside world. The people themselves would have enforced it.

However, they appeared to have become enamored with the outside world and wished to become a part of it.

And frankly, who could blame them?

As the chief slowly paced through these lands, even he found himself very impressed by all the sight around him, feeling a slight longing to belong here. ŗᴀŊồＢÊ𝘚

By now, Metztil had left Lord Janus's impoverished territory and crossed into one of the most prosperous areas north of Caira, and the architecture here did not disappoint.

The stone paved roads, the huge marbled temples, the lavish bathhouses, the resplendent city centers, and the bustling markets, all sparkled with irresistible allure for the chief.

Even the ordinary large, tall, wooden buildings that lined the streets proved to be a marvel for Metztil, as they dwarfed even the hut he lived in, the biggest and most prosperous in the tribe.

It made the man wonder how anyone could have built so many such impressive structures.

Many of these buildings were built so close to each other that it looked like one giant rectangular block.

And around these was a sea of people, all bustling with great purpose and movement, as if they did not have a single second to waste.

They intensely argued with each other over various things or with the traders strewn all across the street, haggling over things that were known and unknown to the natives.

On one side, Metztil recognized the sale of all kinds of food - be it fruits, nuts, grain, fish, or meat, some of which the man recognized and others he did not.

While some distance away, there were blacksmiths selling- knives, axes, hammers, nails, plows, and many other tools.

In one corner, there were numerous bolts of clothes in mesmerizing colors of red, blue, and yellow, that stunned even someone as privileged as Metztil, one who had the best clothes the Helvati had to offer.

And lastly, there were various other paraphernalia and babbles scattered all about, too numerous to name, including clothed dolls, wooden toys of many animals, religious charms like beads, leather items like pouches, bags, shoes, and belts, and even a small shop that sold bits and piece of glass.

Even though this was not the first time Metztil had seen this, the sheer prosperity on display still left him stunned, for such huge gatherings and business volume only occurred during their annual celebrations.

And even then, perhaps there would be even one tenth of the variety present there.

Yet, this was a normal day for the 'outsiders'.

The amount of people here as well as their wealth left Metztil feeling a bit sad over his and his people's lack.

He called Alexander's words and confirmed indeed they were the minority here.

Then suddenly, after salivating at the wealth on display for a while, Metztil's thoughts turned from regret to greed and envy, wishing to take all that was for him.

No wonder the people were so excited when they heard about the deal- the prospect of getting so many things for 'free' was too great an opportunity to pass up.

It was only after coming out of his tribe on his excursion that Metztil finally understood their zeal.

And at some point, Metztil even felt rueful that he had not haggled with Alexander a bit harder.

If he had known about the wealth here, Metztil would not have definitely tried to exchange some of that 1,500 sq. kilometer land for a city like this.

However, deep down, the chief also knew his request would have been very unlikely to be granted.

And even if he did, they would most likely not know how to operate it. Lord Janus was indeed right.

It was amidst these thoughts that night fell for Metztil and his entourage, and so they decided to take lodging at the only inn there was in the town they were in.

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As said earlier, the distance from Gaint City to the northern border was around eighty kilometers, and even on a fast hour, it needed two days to complete.

And given Metztil had left the manor after a hearty lunch, the only way they would have been able to reach his place before dusk would have been by cars.

However, as soon as they entered this inn in the city, Metztil and his men's distinct appearance quickly brought many unkind eyes, with many of the patrons instantly recognizing them.

The natives and those from northern Sybarsis looked very distinctly different and even though Metztil had rubbed off his war paint from his face, it did not even take a second glance to know who they were.

Instantly, various whispers of derogatory names for the natives were hushed out by the village folk, be it- thieves, bandits, barbarians, uncouth, or mad dogs, you name it.

Alexander was wrong to assume it was only the natives who labeled others.

The fault went both ways with the Sybarians also having little love for these raiders who regularly attacked and looted their possession.

This was not the first time Metztil experienced xenophobia, nor would it be the last.

Thus the man simply ignored the hostile eyes, while the hostile also reluctantly turned away, not willing to antagonize a group as tough looking and armed as Metztil.

If it had been anything else, these people would have surely robbed the entourage, if not worse.

They knew the city guards would never bother to come after them for a bunch of 'barbarians'. In fact, they might even help them take care of these 'nay do wellers'.

Metztil's menacing appearance and bold, fantastic armor, allowed him to freely enter the inn and after witnessing the most forced, ugly smile from the innkeeper got the best rooms and ordered a hearty supper.

If the owner was not scared of having his neck snapped, he would have certainly pretended he was full.

Metztil wondered how his people would be protected from all this as Alexander had promised.

Metztil reached his tribe the next day near dusk, having pushed his horse to its limit. And immediately sought his wife, letting her know of the result.

"Hmmm…. this is better than I expected." And after hearing everything, surprisingly, this strategist did not sound too disappointed.

Rather, she optimistically commented, "There will might be a way out for us. As that Alexander said… we need to sell this properly."

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