My Kingdom Building Done Right!

After the execution of Ross and Harold, Ulric and a few of the tribe’s warriors went down to the base of the mountain to carry out Leone’s orders.

He lowered ladders down the pitfall traps, allowing the warriors of the Bloodtusk Tribe to climb the surface.

Having seen and heard the agreement between Leone and their deceased chieftain, they neither resisted nor tried to make things difficult for the Aslan Tribe. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Malcolm had also come along, designated by Leone as the temporary leader of the survivors of his tribe. The young man had also asked him a favor, which the latter readily accepted.

"Everyone, the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe permitted our return to our homes," Malcolm announced to his tribe members as soon as all of them were gathered in front of him. "However, he asked us for a favor before we leave this place."

"A favor?" One of the warriors sneered. "What favor does he want? If he’s going to release us, then he shouldn’t ask for any favors!"

"That’s right!"

"We don’t owe him anything!"

Ulric coldly looked at the ungrateful bastards who had been granted a special pardon by their Great Chieftain. If not for the fact that he didn’t want to make a scene while the representatives of the high-ranking tribes were still watching, he might have already hacked the bastards to pieces.

Zed and the other representatives of the high-ranking tribes also frowned at the attitude of the prisoners of war. Had they been the ones in charge, they would have already executed these people on the spot.

After all, they had been there when Leone had asked Malcolm for a favor. And frankly, they were all surprised the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe had asked for such a thing.

Though, because of this gesture, they all respected the young chieftain more than ever.

Malcolm glared at his unruly tribe members before shouting at them.

"Shut up!" Malcolm roared. "It’s because of fools like you that our tribe is facing a calamity right now! It is Chieftain Leone who doesn’t owe you anything! You should be grateful he even accepted our chieftain’s request! If not, all of you would have been dead by now!"

Malcolm didn’t speak much. But when he did, he spoke from the heart.

As one of the veteran warriors of the Bloodtusk Tribe, although he didn’t have a high position within the tribe, many warriors still respected him.

"Forget it!" Malcolm shouted. "The bastards who don’t want to listen to the favor Lord Leone asks of us, move to that side! I don’t want to deal with you ungrateful pricks!"

Over a hundred warriors moved to the direction Malcolm had pointed at, not giving a damn about what he was saying.

Out of Bloodtusk Tribe 1500 warriors, only 213 remained. That was how badly they lost in this war against the Aslan Tribe.

Those who remained to listen to what Malcolm had to say numbered only around eighty. However, they stared at him with calm expressions on their faces.

Malcolm ignored the ungrateful fools who had chosen to walk to the side and focused his attention on those who were willing to listen.

"The favor the Great Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe had asked of us is to craft a grand funeral pyre for our chieftain, as well as our brethren. We will cut trees and place them outside of the forest, where our departed brothers will be laid to rest.

"Lord Leone had also asked the great shaman, Gundar of the Grimhowl Tribe, to conduct the funeral rites that will send off our brothers back to the womb of the Earth Mother. All of you who are willing to honor our brothers one last time before we return home, follow me. We have work to do!"

When the eighty warriors heard what Malcolm had to say, they didn’t hesitate and followed behind him.

Sure, they were tired, injured, and a little hungry. But, they were still willing to chop some trees in order to send off their departed brothers to the afterlife.

Those who had refused to listen to Malcolm’s words earlier were stupefied after hearing the contents of Leone’s message.

Hearing that the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe was willing to give their deceased brothers a warrior’s death rite, they regretted their attitude earlier.

They then hatefully glared at the warrior who had spoken out first, making the latter flinch and take a step back.

He wanted to retort and remind them that they had chosen to follow him on their own volition. However, he couldn’t say anything, feeling too guilty and ashamed.

"Please let us help build the funeral pyre with them," one of the warriors asked Ulric, who had blocked their path.

The other warriors of the Aslan Tribe had also formed a wall around them, their spears pointing at the ungrateful bastards who didn’t deserve to be pardoned.

But at that moment, Leone’s voice reverberated across the Grimjaw Mountain as if he had spoken a royal decree.

"Let them help."

He had only spoken three words, but his tone had been absolute.

Ulric and the warriors reluctantly made way for the other members of the Bloodtusk Tribe to approach Malcolm.

When Daedalus had gathered the bodies of the dead, he had also gathered their weapons.

Since they would be chopping trees, he had piled up enough axes for the Bloodtusk Tribe to use to start chopping trees at the outskirts of the forest.

Leone had also given an order that the warriors be fed with broth with chunks of meat, giving them energy to do their task.

These supplies were also gathered by Daedalus from the belongings of the dead, which was now being put to good use.

For a while, only the sound of trees being chopped off and falling on the ground could be heard in the forest.

The warriors hacked the branches of these trees, working together to carry the trunks to the wagons Daedalus had also prepared in advance.

Dozens of Raptors pulled these wagons out of the forest, to where Malcolm personally supervised the building of the grand funeral pyre.

"Uncle. In the history of the barbarians, has there been anyone else who gave their enemies a proper burial?" Vlad asked with curiosity.

"I only remember one other person who had done it before," Zed answered. "The Barbarian King of the West. The same one who forced our people to migrate to the Borderlands."

Zed didn’t want to admit it, but Leone’s gesture of honoring the departed warriors would definitely elevate his influence among the tribes in the Borderlands.

Honor was very important to the barbarians. With that said, someone merciful enough to honor their dead enemies were seen in a positive light.

No other chieftain among the high-ranking tribes had done anything similar in the past. In fact, Leone might have just pioneered this tradition.

"Sir Leone is indeed an amazing person." Vlad smiled faintly. "I want to be like him!"

"...Please don’t say those words around your father, Young Lord," Zed replied with a wry smile. "If he heard you say such a thing, he might just beat me with a wooden stick. So, you lot, make sure our Great Chieftain doesn’t hear about this? Do I make myself clear? If any of you snitches, I’ll make you all pay!"

The other warriors hurriedly nodded their heads, promising to not tell a soul about Vlad’s statement.

Understanding he might have caused trouble for everyone, Vlad hurriedly apologized, which gave Zed another headache.

"Didn’t you tell Sir Leone that a chieftain shouldn’t bow their heads so easily?" Zed snapped. "Why are you doing the same thing?"

"It’s because I was in the wrong..."

"Young Lord, it seems that Sir Leone is becoming a bad influence to you."

"He’s not a bad influence!" Vlad replied firmly. "He is a good influence on me! I want to learn how to become a better ruler by following his example!"

Hovering above the ramparts that overlooked the forest, Daedalus chuckled.

He was projecting the conversation between Vlad and Zed at the moment, allowing those beside Leone to hear it.

"This kid sure says the darndest things," Daedalus said. "Can we keep him?"

"He’s not a pet." Leone didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the grimoire’s antics. "But I do agree that Vlad is a good boy."

"He is a good boy." Yuni agreed. "But it is also true that you’re a bad influence."

"I’m not," Leone replied firmly. "I am the best influence."

"As expected of our Great Chieftain," Kael said in a flattering tone. "You are able to inspire the youngest son of the Chieftain of the Warclaw Tribe. I’m sure he will sing songs of your greatness after he returns to his tribe."

Everyone gave the bootlicker a side-long glance. But since his words made Leone happy, they didn’t say anything to ruin the atmosphere.

"Still, I hope this is the last time we will have to conduct a grand funeral," Leone said softly.

Everyone nodded in agreement. However, deep inside their hearts, they understood.

The only way for the Aslan Tribe to gain peace was to grow strong enough. That way, no one would dare lay their hands upon their lands and people.

They were still too far away from reaching that goal, so the only thing they could do was take things one step at a time.

As the grand funeral pyre was taking shape, no one dared to believe this was the end.

They had won today, but victories in the Borderlands were never final. Enemies would once again test their mettle, and they would be better prepared in laying siege to Leone’s fortress.

And when they did come, the Aslan Tribe would have no choice but to meet them head-on.

Very soon, when the warriors and the representatives of the different tribes returned to their respective tribes, Leone’s exalted name would then spread far and wide.

As to what the aftermath of this war would be, only time would tell.

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