Al expressed his regret over the representatives' refusal to yield on this matter, and acknowledged their stance.
He removed himself from the situation. Acting as an arbitrator between Estalia and the Bretonnian knights, he agreed to the representatives' request to appeal the matter to the Northern Council for a decision. At the same time, he stated that the knights had come from afar, first rescuing refugees and then slaughtering the Skaven scum, and their joining now was also to fight the Greenskins together, so taking extreme actions would be inappropriate.
If it was later confirmed that they had been wrongfully accused, it would very likely damage relations with their Bretonnian allies, and if this resulted in not receiving subsequent reinforcements...
It seemed Al had just smoothed the matter over like that.
Then he changed the subject, bringing up the difficulties currently facing the tribe.
The emotions he hadn't used earlier were put to use now.
Al earnestly explained their current predicament to the refugee representatives. The rescued refugees, plus the groups that had continuously fled from various places and hid in the Piña Forest to avoid the roaming Greenskins during this period, had reached a number far exceeding what their current output could sustain.
Even though they had been continuously building new settlements and opening up hunting grounds and farmlands, their food reserves were visibly dropping. Currently, the average ration a refugee could receive had been cut by nearly a quarter compared to the very beginning.
After pouring out his grievances, Al looked at the representatives, all of whom had faces full of worry—even if they were faking it, they had to put on the act.
He immediately struck while the iron was hot, proposing to establish fifteen more settlements outward, each housing eight hundred to a thousand people.
The tribe would send warriors to help them with the initial work and set up hunting and gathering teams. For their subsequent material needs, they would have to figure out ways to meet them themselves; the tribe could only provide a little help.
The refugee representatives had no objections to this resolution, and it was passed.
Then they began discussing internal management rights. Al waited quietly and politely to the side without interrupting. After they discussed for a while, he found an opportunity to continue:
"You did very well regarding the material distribution issue previously... This is truly a headache for the tribesmen. From now on, we'll just hand the task of distributing supplies to the refugees entirely over to you."
"I still prefer clashing head-on with Greenskins on the battlefield; tallying up all these things is incredibly annoying."
Al pretended not to notice many refugee representatives first freezing in surprise, then being unable to suppress their joyful expressions while feigning complaints. He deepened the pit he had dug for these well-dressed councilor representatives, watching them gleefully crawl down into it, digging their own graves.
Then, with a wave of his hand, he took the representatives to the storage area, opened the warehouses, gathered the surrounding labor force to move the goods, and distributed three days' worth of rations in advance.
A chorus of praises and thanks to the Goddess rang out. As for which Goddess they meant, Al couldn't be bothered to care.
He had no intention of getting involved in what followed. After Misha returned, the centaur girl had taken the Khorngor Vanguard out on an expedition. There was no specific objective, just a wild rampage to sweep away threats big and small along the way, leveling the foundation for future expansion.
She was returning today. Through his blessing, he knew she had already reached the outskirts of the tribe, and Al wanted to go greet her immediately.
He estimated he'd be sticking close to his adoptive mother for anywhere from three to five days to a week or more. The arrangements here would take at least another ten days to half a month to show initial results. Leaving matters to his scions and advisors, Al mounted the Griffon girl and decisively slipped away.
Spellcasters were scarce among the refugees. Because the Skaven assassins had specifically targeted them for assassination earlier, and the three cities weren't particularly prosperous or important to begin with, the few spellcasters were mostly of average or mediocre aptitude. Al gathered them together under the pretext of forming a battle mage unit to march south and garrison against the Greenskin threat.
In reality, relying on the power of the All-Knowing believers from the "Scholar Council"—whom he had connected with previously through the Huntress—they conducted a massive magical ritual in the woodlands, trapping all the Estalian spellcasters in an illusion, supervised by the most elite Beastman scouts.
Simultaneously, the All-Knowing mages used Al's aura to infect the magical array, continuously corrupting and eroding these spellcasters. Unless they actively broke free or were awakened by external forces, there was only one possibility when they naturally woke up:
They would already have become believers of the All-Knowing One.
Followers of the Arcane and the Endless Serpent.
Therefore, the Shamans and spellcasters under Al's command could unhinderedly use various methods to monitor these councilor representatives—who, in Al's eyes, already had half a foot over the line of being "fat-brained parasites useless for anything else"—ensuring things wouldn't slip out of Al's control. They could even take drastic measures if necessary.
The desire for indulgence brought by the dark power he requested from the Reveler Mom had also wrapped around those insatiably greedy people desiring various lusts like maggots on a bone. It caused their desires to grow and inflate uncontrollably, making them increasingly greedy and unscrupulous.
So far, it seemed to be showing initial results.
Through the vision granted by the Loving Mother's blessing, the darkness upon these people was continuously growing. They were bringing suffering to the world and to more people.
Through their connection, Al could faintly sense the sorrow and pain his merciful, universally loving Earth Mother—who bore the suffering of the world—felt toward the continuously growing ugliness and harm in this world. Several times, he felt the urge to act immediately, cut down the parasites, and integrate the refugees, but his rationality forced him to suppress it.
It wasn't time yet.
The suffering and darkness he single-handedly manipulated and fostered would grow briefly, but the order and light he brought would endure a thousand times longer!
The members of the Blood Oath Brotherhood stayed behind. Although they had converted to the Bloodmother, strictly speaking, they were still on the human side and could barely be accepted by the latter's power class. Al planted a nail here, having the Brotherhood officers also take charge of distributing a portion of the supplies.
While distributing supplies, they also shouldered the duty of preaching. Currently, it was somewhat effective; on average, they gained about a hundred casual believers a day who were willing to pray briefly and pay lip service to "May the Four Mothers bless us."
The Brotherhood possessed a loyalty to Al solidified by their faith. They could do many things that Beastmen were currently unsuited for, and were less likely to face resistance. At the same time, although they retained their individual emotions, desires, and needs, everything had to yield to Al's commands. They would strive relentlessly to execute the Everchosen's directives without compromise.
He believed that compared to the refugee representatives—who were rapidly falling to corruption under the influence of dark powers, eating themselves into fat-brained pigs while acting high and mighty—the "honest and simple" tribespeople and the diligent, responsible Brotherhood members who embezzled nothing would soon win the enthusiastic support of the refugees.
The Griffon circled at a low altitude for a while. Al found an opportunity, mustered his courage, and dove off the Griffon girl's back.
The centaur girl slammed her long halberd into the ground at lightning speed, reached out with both hands, caught the boy in her arms, and smoothly placed him on her back.
Only after Al was safely seated on the horse's back did he exhale a breath, feeling a slight thrill. He spread his arms and wrapped them around his adoptive mother's lower abdomen, his chest pressing against her cold armor.
"It feels like you've been gone for a long time," the boy suddenly whispered behind his adoptive mother as he hugged her.
With the height difference between a human and a horse, Al's current sitting posture made it impossible to achieve a "whisper right next to the ear" pose.
"I... I feel the same way."
Alina's voice trembled slightly. She turned her head, staring at Al with fiery eyes.
The boy's legs couldn't help but clamp tightly against the horse's body.
Although he could constantly keep in touch with the centaur girl through his blessing, this was the first time since Al's arrival in this world that he had been separated from his caretaker, protector, and object of affection, the centaur girl Alina, for so long.
An unprecedented feeling.
Every day, he had to establish a mental link with the centaur girl, chat, or just observe the battlefield, watching her violent, heroic figure tearing through enemies on the path of her furious advance.
Then he turned this longing into passion, doubling his efforts to vent it on the goat mom, goat girls, the widow, Claudia, and Ann.
Injecting massive amounts of thick, viscous white fluid into their bodies, or mischievously spraying it on them, watching them helplessly help each other clean it up so as not to waste it.
And then Al would continue missing the centaur girl.
Her madness, her proactiveness, her shyness, her strength...
The centaur girl could bring Al a sense of security that, even if surrounded by an army of ten thousand, simply couldn't be compared to.
"Is there nothing much going on recently?"
They had already entered the tribe, and the gazes of reverence and awe multiplied. The centaur girl turned her head back and asked casually.
"Yes, there's nothing much to do right now. I won't consider expanding outward again until 'that matter' is resolved."
"As for other things, with Misha and the others helping out now, I'm much more relaxed!" Al said with a hint of joy.
After the sudden attack by the goat girls left him drained for a day, he really had worked hard for several days straight. Even resting at night consisted of parting the widow's thighs, thrusting his spear in, and finishing the battle as quickly as possible without holding back.
Now that things were mostly done or delegated to his "cow-daughter" (Misha), and the centaur girl had returned, Al was actually quite happy. It looked like he could slack off a bit for a while.
The Scholar Council, together with the Shamans, utilizing the blessings of the Four Gods, had helped him activate the ley line abilities of the Piña Forest. His tribe could now use ley lines and roots to achieve rapid traversal—similar to the ability to tunnel past obstacles in the game.
Al was considering whether he should take this opportunity to give himself a few days off.
"Then..."
His centaur adoptive mother drew out the word, the tip of her tongue gently licking the corner of her lips.
She had held back long enough.
The only one who could tempt her, her adopted son, was still unconsciously pressing tightly against her body, transmitting his temperature, scent, and existence into her heart and body every single moment.
Perhaps Al's past complaint was right.
His adoptive centaur mother.
Was the dual Chosen of Horny and Rage!
And Al, completely oblivious to his impending fate, was like a little boy who wandered into a church, was found by a kind, busty Sister, and led by the hand into the basement to be "taken care of"; or a human boy who saved a female great yokai about to take human form, and when she wanted to repay him with a wish, the boy naively said "I want to become an adult," completely missing the gaze that instantly shifted from prey to predator upon spotting its quarry.
Just like that, Al, with absolutely zero defenses, and his closest, most trusted adoptive mother, the centaur girl, ducked together into their shared cabin.
The exit was firmly guarded by loyal bodyguards and maids; absolutely no one could intrude against the will of the royal tent's master.
Al!
"Danger!"