Chapter 234: The Weight of Power
It took long minutes for the cheering along the ramparts to fade. The echo of the blast still rumbled in the distant mountains when Kellar turned back toward Garik and Lennis, who remained frozen beside the smoking carriage, their eyes wide and their faces pale from adrenaline and shock.
"I promised you a reward if this worked," said Kellar, breaking their trance as he walked over to them. His voice commanded respect.
He looked first at the designer and then at the seasoned blacksmith.
"Lennis, you hold the title of Master Craftsman. Garik, you hold Master Blacksmith. Right now, both of you are critical strategic assets in the tribe," continued Kellar. "However, those titles do not translate into authority. Right now we have a single settlement, but that will change once we begin to expand. And I do not want the weight of your contributions to fade with time."
Both craftsmen listened, not daring to interrupt.
"Therefore, I am granting you both the opportunity to claim a fiefdom," proclaimed Kellar. "When the future arrives and you are no longer in this world, your children, and your children’s children, will inherit your lands. Right now, within our small village, this reward might seem like little... but believe me, it will be worth it. In the future, you will understand."
Garik and Lennis exchanged a glance, processing the Shaman’s words. Although neither was accustomed to thinking in terms of hereditary dynasties, their faith in Kellar was unwavering. If he said those lands would be worth an empire, there was no doubt.
"Great Shaman..." spoke Garik, bowing his torso low. "We may not grasp the scale of a fiefdom, but we trust in your word and in the future you are building for us."
"We accept this honor with our lives, my lord," added Lennis, his voice trembling with emotion as he bowed alongside him. "We promise that as long as we draw breath, the tribe’s weapons will never cease to be forged."
Kellar nodded with satisfaction, knowing he had laid the foundation for the first artisan nobility of his realm.
"Now, put your apprentices to work," concluded Kellar, looking down at the bronze piece. "I want three more Garnis cannons finished before the snow melts. We will mount them atop the rampart towers."
Kellar turned toward Mentz, who stood a few paces away watching the final details of the test with attention.
"Are the harvesting teams ready?" asked Kellar, fixing his gaze on the construction foreman.
"Of course, Great Shaman!" replied Mentz, straightening up. "We left everything prepared to set out the first day the snow receded. The tools, haul sacks, and sleds are ready in the storehouses."
"Excellent," nodded Kellar. "Get Bighorn ready to haul the main wagon. Also bring Ignis; we will use his body to forge a path through the snow and melt the ice along the routes. Let’s bring back material to start paving the roads."
Just beyond the bend of the low cliffs, the veins of limestone and the deposits of soft volcanic clay were waiting to begin manufacturing hydraulic cement. The high-temperature kilns had been prepared and calibrated during the days of isolation; all that was missing was the raw material to start producing the clinker, the essential component for a water- and freeze-resistant mortar.
Mentz began barking orders to his crews, mobilizing workers toward the stables and main supply depots. As the first flames radiating from Ignis’s form began melting the snow blanket at the settlement exit, clearing a steaming path toward the cliffs, Kellar watched the advance with determination.
"I’ll move ahead to scout the path," told Mentz Kellar.
With a whistle that pierced the air, Little Green swooped down from the heights. Kellar leaped onto her back, gripping her plumage, and they took off into the sky at high speed.
Following the route Lupar had described, he advanced along the bed of the Crocodile River. However, instead of taking the path toward the Red Forest, he veered off toward the Low Cliffs. The snow blanketed everything in sight, but the river remained loud and alive; its waters hadn’t frozen in the slightest. The volume of water ensured a flow that could not be frozen over.
"Master, this place is dangerous," spoke Little Green through their mental link, keeping her wings steady. "There must be one of the greater guardians lingering here. This used to be the Leviathan’s territory. Even though it is dead, its guardians are above my strength. If I get closer, they will take it as a challenge and launch a counterattack."
"I understand. Land here; we didn’t come to start an invasion," commanded Kellar calmly.
Little Green glided down and touched ground near where the deposits were supposed to be. Deep snow covered the terrain, so the eagle beat her wings, sweeping away the icy powder and granting Kellar a line of sight.
Looking at the exposed rock formations beneath the ice, Kellar’s eyes lit up. Lupar hadn’t exaggerated: it was a massive deposit. If they could extract a fraction of all that limestone and clay, it would be enough to produce the hydraulic cement required to pave the stone roads to the mine and build the Overlord tribe’s first heavy fortifications.
"We’ve confirmed that what we’re looking for is right here," said Kellar, patting Little Green’s neck feathers. "Let’s head back to protect the caravan."
However, before the eagle could take to the skies, a raspy voice echoed through the freezing air, sending vibrations through the surrounding snow.
"Who are you, and why are you in my territory, little eagle? Did your king not teach you not to wander alone?"
The voice seemed to come out of nowhere; no matter how intently Kellar and Little Green scanned their surroundings, they couldn’t spot anyone. Suddenly, the white blanket before them stirred, and emerging from the dense layer of snow as if sculpted from winter itself, a white tiger stepped forward, pacing toward them with its eyes locked on the intruders.