A couple of days after Torak delivered his final warning, Garron abruptly suspended all training for a period of three days, explaining to the recruits that urgent personal matters required his attention elsewhere, as despite the visible disappointment on many faces, he offered no further explanation before leaving Ashfang Village alone.
Naturally, the decision was not well received by the students, who had by now grown accustomed to receiving an Aether Pill every morning and could already feel the benefits of the brutal training regimen, however Garron ignored their complaints entirely, because the matter he was attending to was far more important than three days of missed training.
He travelled eastward through the Frostlands toward the Yellowtail Tribe, as after repeatedly referring to the contents of the recruitment dossier he had received before leaving the Valdrak Empire, Garron eventually arrived at the conclusion that the solution to all his immediate problems lay hidden within Yellowtail territory.
The Valdrak Empire stretched across a vast portion of the northern continent, encompassing thousands of cities, towns, villages, and frontier settlements, however despite its immense size, much of the Empire’s northern border remained surrounded by untamed wilderness inhabited by countless independent tribes that had never formally joined Imperial rule.
For that reason, every Imperial recruiter received a detailed report before being dispatched into the Frostlands, with the document containing maps, population estimates, tribal histories, trade routes, military strength assessments, and observations gathered by previous recruiters who had visited the region before them.
And according to Garron’s report, Frost Valley was dominated by two major tribes.
The Ashfang Tribe.
And the Yellowtail Tribe.
For nearly a century, both tribes had been locked in a cycle of raids, retaliation, blood feuds, and territorial disputes, with neither side ever managing to fully destroy the other.
Whenever winter supplies ran low, both tribes would descend upon weaker settlements throughout the valley, plundering food stores, stealing livestock, and carrying surviving women back as slaves.
It was a brutal way of life.
Yet it was also the reason both tribes had grown strong enough to survive.
Because after generations of conquest, the only remaining force capable of threatening Ashfang was Yellowtail.
And the only remaining force capable of threatening Yellowtail was Ashfang.
That balance had maintained an uneasy peace for decades.
However, after reading the report several times, Garron could not help but smile.
Because while most recruiters viewed that information as little more than background knowledge, he saw something far more useful hidden within it.... As in it he saw an opportunity to end dissent for once and for all, which was precisely why he currently made his way towards Yellowtail territory.
-----------
(Two Days Later)
The Yellowtail chief’s residence was larger than most buildings within the village, constructed from thick timber logs reinforced with animal hides and bone supports, as inside, a fire crackled steadily within a central pit while several warriors stood guard along the walls.
Meanwhile, seated across a wooden table, Garron calmly sipped a mug of ale while studying the man sitting opposite him.
Chief Sorak.
Leader of the Yellowtail Tribe.
A broad-shouldered warrior whose face carried enough scars to tell the story of several lifetimes worth of battles.
"So you’re an envoy of the Valdrak Empire?"
Sorak asked while narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"I am."
Garron replied.
"And what exactly does the Empire want from us this time?
Like I already told your envoy last time they came to visit us.... No, there is no Aether vein around here that we are aware of, nor do I know about the presence of any silver mine."
The chief said plainly, as Garron chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
"I’m not here to collect information. I’m not a scout, nor an imperial mining agent.
I’m a recruiter, and I’m here to offer you a better way of life.
Solid housing, stable food supply, superior medicine, guaranteed employment, and assured protection beneath Imperial law."
He explained calmly, as he recited the standard recruitment script flawlessly.
"To get all these benefits your people need to simply relocate to the south and become productive citizens of the Empire.
Pay your taxes, obey the law, and in return all this and more can be yours."
He offered, as for several moments, Sorak remained silent.
The offer sounded attractive.
Suspiciously attractive.
Which only made him trust it less.
"And why would the Empire suddenly care about tribes like ours?"
He asked, as Garron shrugged and said, "They don’t....."
He admitted honestly, as he took another sip from his ale mug.
"Us recruiters, we simply have a quota to hit, and it doesn’t matter to us whether the numbers come from Yellowtail tribe or Dothraki tribe or Ashfang.
Infact, the Ashfang tribe has already accepted my offer ...."
Garron revealed cleverly, as the atmosphere in the room immediately shifted.
"What? The Ashfang Tribe already accepted your offer to relocate?"
Chief Sorak asked, as anger visibly erupted in his eyes.
"Yes, their chief Torak agreed several weeks ago..... and I’ve been living there for the past few weeks."
Garron explained, as he purposefully made it seem like he had no ulterior motives, when he clearly knew exactly what he was trying to instigate.
"Assuming everything proceeds according to schedule, they will leave Frost Valley before next winter."
He revealed, as absolute silence followed his statement.
For a while, nobody said anything, until eventually it was Sorak who broke the silence.
"So after all these years..."
He muttered.
"After all these generations..."
His fingers tightened around the armrest of his chair.
"They think they can simply leave?"
The room grew noticeably colder.
"My grandfather was killed by Ashfang warriors."
Sorak said.
"My father spent his entire life fighting them."
His voice lowered.
"Half this village carries scars because of that tribe."
He continued.
"Half this village has buried family members because of them."
The chief slowly shook his head.
"No."
He said.
"No, that doesn’t sit right with me."
Garron remained silent.
Allowing the man to continue.
"Yes, them leaving would give us more territory."
Sorak admitted.
"More hunting grounds. More resources."
His jaw clenched.
"But it doesn’t settle anything."
The chief finally looked up.
"It doesn’t settle the blood."
That was the moment Garron knew he had won, because this was the exact reaction he had been hoping for.
"Well..."
Garron said while leaning slightly forward.
"If that’s how you feel, perhaps there is something you should know."
He continued, as he swirled the ale in his cup and smiled softly.
"What?
Sorak asked, while eyeing him suspiciously.
"The Moon Goddess Festival.
The Ashfang Tribe plans to celebrate it three full moons from now."
Garron revealed, as the chief remained silent.
"The men will be drinking. The patrols will be weaker. The villagers will be distracted."
He continued, as realization slowly appeared within Sorak’s eyes.
Neither man spoke for several moments.
Then eventually, the chief asked the obvious question.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Garron shrugged.
"Let’s just say I’ve spent several weeks dealing with Chief Torak."
He answered.
"I offered him the best deal his tribe has ever received."
A faint smile appeared on Garron’s face.
"And somehow the bastard still found reasons to complain."
Sorak stared at him.
"So this is revenge?"
He asked.
Garron lifted his mug.
"Let’s call it pettiness."
He replied, as the Yellowtail chief let out a low chuckle, before eventually rising from his chair and showing Garron the door.
"I’ll discuss your offer with the elders...
As for whether the Yellowtail Tribe eventually joins the Empire or not, that decision will depend on what serves our people best."
Sorak said, as Garron nodded in acknowledgement, because on the surface it was a reasonable answer, however while Sorak escorted him toward the exit of the hut, he could already tell that the man’s thoughts were no longer focused on relocation, Imperial citizenship, or the promises of a better future.
Instead, every mention of Ashfang had reignited something far older inside him, as decades of inherited hatred, family grudges, and unfinished vendettas had resurfaced the moment he learned that the Ashfang Tribe intended to leave Frost Valley behind.
After all, men who spent generations dreaming of revenge rarely reacted well when the object of that revenge suddenly announced its intention to disappear beyond their reach.
Hence, as Garron stepped out into the cold northern wind and began making his way back toward Ashfang Village, he could not help but feel assured that his plan had already worked, because he could see the murderous intent in Sorak’s eyes when the topic of attacking during the Moon Goddess Festival had been raised.
It was the look of a man who had already accepted an idea long before he pretended to consider it.
Which was precisely why Garron felt more confident than ever that when the third full moon arrived, Frost Valley would drown itself in blood, and once that happened, the complaints about unruly slaves would become the least of Ashfang Village’s concerns.