Morning light broke through the mist of Blackwood Forest, spilling across the watchtowers of Blackwood Fortress and ushering in a new day.
The noise and revelry of the previous night had vanished.
In its place—silence.
Inside the council chamber, the atmosphere was solemn, almost heavy. The long wooden table stood bare, stripped of wine and meat. Only the negotiators remained, seated across from one another, their expressions guarded.
At the head sat Colin.
To his left, Lena prepared to record every word, charcoal poised over a fresh stretch of animal hide. To his right, Goff rested with eyes closed, arms folded, like a dormant beast that could awaken in an instant.
Across from them, Elder Shield-Bearer dominated the space. Even seated, his massive frame made the chair beneath him seem inadequate. Boulder sat beside him, far quieter than the night before—his hands clenched on his knees, tension evident.
Sunlight streamed in from above, illuminating drifting dust motes, as though the very air bore witness to history being written.
Colin spoke first.
"Elder Shield-Bearer, Brother Boulder—did you rest well?"
The simple greeting eased the tension slightly.
Shield-Bearer laughed, voice booming. "Your hospitality is unmatched! The meat, the wine—I slept better than in my own den!"
Boulder nodded enthusiastically. "Good food. Good place."
Then Colin's tone shifted.
"Let's begin."
His gaze sharpened.
"Last night, we reached a preliminary understanding. Today, we define the details. A true alliance is built on mutual benefit—and mutual benefit begins with fair trade."
He placed the matter squarely on the table.
Shield-Bearer nodded. "Your ironware for our resources. Hides, meat, salt. What are your terms?"
Lena lifted her head and spoke clearly.
"One standard iron spear—one hundred and fifty catties of dried jerky, or twenty Winter Wolf hides."
"WHAT?!"
Boulder shot to his feet, fury erupting.
"That's robbery! That's a winter's food for one man! And twenty hides? That takes months to gather!"
Shield-Bearer didn't stop him—but his expression darkened as he turned to Colin.
Colin remained calm.
"Brother Boulder," he said evenly, "let's think this through."
He tapped the table lightly.
"How long does a bone spear last? How many strikes before it breaks?"
Silence.
"When facing human steel, your weapons shatter. And when they do… so do your warriors."
His voice grew heavier.
"Our spears pierce armor. They survive battle after battle."
He leaned forward slightly.
"What is a warrior's life worth? And what is a weapon worth that keeps him alive?"
Boulder fell silent.
Shield-Bearer's expression shifted—conflict flickering in his eyes.
Because Colin wasn't exaggerating.
He was stating truth learned in blood.
"And forging isn't free," Colin continued. "Ore. Charcoal. Labor. Skill. Every spear carries a cost."
Then—
He offered another path.
"Or… we trade for salt. One spear for fifty catties."
That changed everything.
Shield-Bearer's eyes narrowed.
Salt.
Their advantage.
Their leverage.
What followed was a long, grinding negotiation.
Shield-Bearer spoke of hardship, scarcity, survival.
Boulder added emotion—stories of loss, sacrifice, struggle.
Colin and Lena did not yield.
They countered with logic, with strategy, with carefully placed exaggerations.
Hours passed.
At last—
A compromise.
One spear: 100 catties jerky / 10 hides / 30 catties salt One battle axe: 180 catties jerky / 20 hides / 60 catties salt
Costly—but acceptable.
Painful—but worth it.
Shield-Bearer slammed the table.
"Done!"
Next came the alliance terms.
Under Colin's insistence, the pact focused on defensive cooperation, with clear conditions for support.
No reckless wars.
No blind commitments.
Only controlled, calculated action.
With the major issues settled, the tension eased.
Lena recorded everything.
The framework of an alliance had taken shape.
Then Colin spoke again.
"There is one more matter."
His voice carried weight.
"I want to trade for Mountain Bison."
The room stiffened.
Shield-Bearer frowned.
"That… is difficult."
He explained plainly:
"They are not just animals. They are transport, strength, even weapons. They take time to raise. They are wealth."
Colin nodded.
Then—
He made his move.
"One hundred and eighty spears," he said.
"And twenty great axes."
"For twenty bison."
"Sixteen cows. Four bulls."
Silence.
Then shock.
Shield-Bearer stood up.
"You… must be joking."
But Colin wasn't smiling.
The numbers were staggering.
Two hundred weapons.
Enough to arm an elite force.
In exchange for twenty beasts.
Boulder's eyes widened as he counted.
This wasn't just a trade.
It was transformation.
Colin spoke calmly.
"Weapons win battles."
"Food wins wars."
He met the elder's gaze.
"This is an investment."
"In three years, these bison will feed everyone in my fortress—and more."
Shield-Bearer hesitated.
Struggled.
Measured loss against gain.
Short-term sacrifice against long-term dominance.
Finally—
He exhaled heavily and sat down.
"...You win."
He looked at Colin.
"This deal… is accepted."
A faint smile appeared on Colin's face.
"Then we have an agreement."
Lena recorded the terms with careful precision.
A transaction of immense consequence.
When it was done, Shield-Bearer carved his mark into the parchment with his nail.
A deep, permanent line.
In that moment—
The alliance was no longer words.
It was binding.
Real.
Forged in steel.
Rooted in survival.
And with it—
The future of both tribes quietly changed.