The next morning, the first rays of sunlight pierced through the lingering mist of the Blackwood Forest, falling upon the watchtowers of Blackwood Fortress like pale gold. A new day had begun.
The revelry of the previous night was gone, replaced by a solemn, almost heavy atmosphere.
Inside the council chamber, the long wooden table stood bare—no roasted meat, no fruit wine. Only people remained, seated on either side, their expressions restrained, focused.
Colin sat at the head.
To his left, Lena prepared a fresh sheet of animal hide, charcoal pencil poised, ready to record every word. To his right, Goff sat like a silent mountain, arms crossed, eyes closed—but the coiled stillness in his posture spoke of a predator ready to strike at the slightest disturbance.
Across from them, Elder Shield-Bearer occupied the central seat. His massive frame made even the reinforced chair seem small. Boulder sat beside him, far less boisterous than before, his large hands resting on his knees, unconsciously tightening and loosening.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating drifting dust motes and casting long shadows across the table. It gave the moment a strange weight—like history quietly taking shape.
"Elder Shield-Bearer, Brother Boulder," Colin began, his tone calm and warm, "did you rest well?"
The simple courtesy eased the tension.
Shield-Bearer smiled broadly. "Thanks to your hospitality, Chief Colin, I slept better than in my own den. The meat was good, the wine even better."
Boulder nodded vigorously. "Good place. Plenty of food."
Colin allowed a faint smile before his expression turned serious.
"Then let us speak of business."
The air tightened again.
"We reached a preliminary agreement last night," he continued. "Today, we settle the details. An alliance stands on mutual benefit—and mutual benefit begins with fair exchange."
He did not circle the issue. He struck at its core.
Shield-Bearer inclined his head. "Blackwood has iron. We have meat, hides, and salt. The question is—what price does the Chief set?"
Lena lifted her head and spoke clearly, her voice steady.
"For one standard iron spear: one hundred and fifty catties of dried meat, or twenty complete winter wolf hides."
"What?!"
Boulder shot to his feet, fury flashing across his face.
"That's robbery! One hundred and fifty catties feeds a tribesman through winter! Twenty hides—do you know what that costs in blood?!"
His voice boomed through the chamber.
Colin didn't react. His gaze remained fixed on Shield-Bearer.
"Brother Boulder," he said calmly, "sit."
Something in his tone—quiet, controlled—made Boulder hesitate before slowly lowering himself back down, still breathing heavily.
Colin leaned forward slightly.
"Let me ask you a question, Elder."
He tapped the table lightly.
"How long does a stone weapon last in battle against human steel?"
Silence.
"How many strikes before it shatters? And when it does—what is lost?"
His voice deepened.
"A weapon breaks. A warrior dies."
No one spoke.
"Our spears," Colin continued, "are forged by a master. They pierce chainmail. They endure battle after battle. They keep your warriors alive."
His eyes locked onto Shield-Bearer's.
"What is a life worth?"
The question hung heavily in the air.
Boulder's anger faltered. His mouth opened—then closed.
Shield-Bearer's expression shifted, shadows of memory passing through his eyes.
Colin didn't press harshly. His tone softened.
"Forging these weapons costs us greatly—ore, labor, fire, time. Our people are few. Every piece matters."
He paused, then added:
"If meat and hides feel too costly… we can trade in salt."
That word changed everything.
"One spear," Colin said evenly, "for fifty catties of salt."
Shield-Bearer's pupils tightened.
Salt.
More valuable than meat in winter. More reliable. More essential.
The negotiation stretched on for hours.
Shield-Bearer bargained with experience, speaking of hardship and scarcity. Boulder added emotion, recounting loss and sacrifice.
Colin and Lena did not yield easily.
They countered with logic, with numbers, with carefully placed truths—and a few strategic exaggerations.
At last, a compromise emerged.
A standard spear:– one hundred catties of dried meat– or ten high-quality hides– or thirty catties of salt
A battle axe:– one hundred and eighty catties of meat– or twenty hides– or sixty catties of salt
Shield-Bearer struck the table.
"Done!"
The tension eased.
Lena recorded every term.
Then Colin spoke again.
"One more matter."
The room quieted.
"I wish to purchase Mountain Bison."
Shield-Bearer frowned.
"That… is not simple."
"They are valuable," Colin said. "I understand."
Then he delivered his offer.
"One hundred and eighty spears. Twenty axes."
Silence.
Then—
"What?!"
Even Shield-Bearer stood.
Two hundred weapons… for twenty beasts.
The scale was staggering.
Boulder stared, stunned, silently counting.
Colin remained calm.
"Weapons win battles," he said. "Food wins wars."
He met Shield-Bearer's gaze.
"This is not expense. It is investment."
A long silence followed.
Then slowly, heavily, Shield-Bearer sat.
"…You are a dangerous man to bargain with, Chief Colin."
Another pause.
Then:
"…Agreed."
Seven days later, the answer came.
At dusk, as doubt spread through Blackwood Fortress—
A horn sounded.
Deep. Long. Unmistakable.
The entire fortress froze.
Then erupted.
"They're here!"
From the watchtower, Colin saw them.
A river of warriors clad in steel.
Behind them—giants.
Twenty Mountain Bison.
And beyond—carts loaded with salt, meat, hides.
A moving mountain of wealth.
Colin smiled.
"Open the gates."
The bells rang.
The gates creaked wide.
Outside, the Bear warriors halted.
Together—they struck their chests in salute.
"Leader Colin!"
Shield-Bearer's voice rang clear.
"We have come as promised!"
He gestured behind him.
"Everything delivered. Nothing withheld."
Then, to the bison—
"And the strength you asked for."
The beasts snorted, breath steaming in the evening air.
Colin stepped forward and grasped Shield-Bearer's arms.
"What you brought," he said, voice steady but warm, "is not just supplies."
He looked across both sides.
"It is trust."
Then, louder—
"Welcome, allies of Blackwood Fortress!"