∼ Day 240 ∼
As night cast its darkness, the noise of voices filled the surroundings of a large table standing out in the open, lighted by torches and pyres. A host of two dozen figures sat by this table, discussing the various matters of the clan and recent events. From the chief of war to the master of coffers, everyone detailed their reports and pleaded their problems.
By my sides at the head of the table sat both of my wives, Mia and Lily with Bob and the twins flanking either woman.
Lily, the lithe sword dancer, had gotten a lot better. She was of course still missing an arm, but her complexion had returned to its usual fair tone and she no longer looked like some sick patient battling through a fever. She wasn't back to full fighting strength, though she looked as if she were.
Beneath the table, my hand was discreetly interlaced with her's atop her lap as I had yet to have time to properly spend time with her since coming back. But now that she was well, I had talked with Mia and promised that Lily would be getting just me wholly alone for tonight as she surely needed it.
"While our funds and resources remain plentiful," A strong voice broke through my meandering thoughts. "We have lost two-thirds of our army. We have to seek allies and their support if we wish to ward off another - much larger, assault. As it stands, we're simply spread too thin with our losses,"
The voice belonged to the newly appointed minister of defense as the previous one had been killed in battle from a skirmishing unit that had struck a rather severe blow to the army's command center during the assault on the basin.
"Nonsense, Master Xavier is more than enough to ward off any further retaliation as you very well witnessed it yourself - the power that our master wields is indubitable," Darkan said from across the table.
I interjected between them with a raised hand that cut through the hubbub murmurs and whispers from those present.
"There is no need to discuss this matter as it has already been taken care of."
Silence reigned as none dared even think of speaking whenever their lord did. I supposed that was partly due to the fact that I was their leader in name but mostly because just as the servant he reminded everyone of; they had all witnessed the raw power I wielded as Ketsu slaughtered the enemy army.
"My liege?" The minister finally said with some hesitancy in his voice when no one else spoke.
"The Tyrant of the North is dead, I made sure of it."
Although it hadn't been a direct proclamation of me slaying the warlord, everyone understood exactly what it meant. Many looked dubious and others downright petrified. They had all seen a fraction of my power repelling the assault on the basin and most knew of the Tyrant's beyond infamous reputation but nobody here truly understood the levels of power that beings of our height possessed.
They all looked conflicted and shocked at best.
While there was no one that was going to argue the variety of my statement, I still wanted it to get my point across so there we no further questions. Reaching into my [Greater Ring of Holding] I pulled out the warlord's massive ivory bone cleaver. With a heavy thud that sent tremors into the ground and up into the seats of everyone, spilling and jumbling whatever may have been laying on the table, the cleaver settled its huge frame atop it.
If not for the table having been wrought from the same tough as steel behemoth oaks of the jungle, it would've buckled under the weight alone.
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"This was his weapon," I said simply, not explaining any further.
There wasn't a single soul that spoke for a solid half-minute though I felt Lily squeeze my hand underneath the table.
She too now knew what I had meant by saying; "They won't be coming back," back at the tent.
"I-I see..." The minister of defense stuttered faintly, falling back into his seat - looking a little defeated.
No one else seemed inclined to take the lead from that revelation, so I just sighed annoyedly.
"Please ∼ go on."
Darkan, as he was the one directing this gathering, quickly got back to himself and looked to a certain individual who sprung to his feet in response.
"L-Lieutenant Tallen reporting the spoils of war!"
The lieutenant, a feline beast-man, seemed shaky at first. But as he spoke, he did appear to get a grip on himself.
"We've recovered all equipment and weaponry from both the enemy and our dead. With only a brief examination, we can already deduce that almost all of the enemy's weapons and armor are of far better make and material than what we currently possess. Most of it remains unusable and is only suitable for stripping, melting down, or salvaging. Still, with their much greater numbers and ours severely diminished, there is more than enough to outfit the entire army and guard with much higher quality equipment."
He paused and looked to me instead of Darkan.
"With your order, we can start repurposing said equipment for our soldiers."
"No need - smelt or scrap it all," I said without batting an eye.
"M-my Lord?" He nearly croaked, obviously having not seeing that response come.
All around surprised murmurs also began erupting, breaking the quiet that had befallen them just moments before.
"While it might be true that the enemy was outfitted much better than what we currently have, that is partly because almost all of it is either what the soldiers brought on their backs coming to this basin or what we bought along with them." I began explaining.
"Barely any of it is of local make - neither forged nor hewn by our own resources and blacksmiths despite the basin having exquisite materials and it also now possessing more than capable blacksmiths and craftsmen. Because our entire focus has been on raising a proper settlement and raw construction as of recent times, all of that has been neglected. Not anymore, however."
"Fortuuk, will you please rise," I called out with a firm voice.
Down the table, a massive bugbear rose, his broad shoulders and frame even larger than what an ordinary bugbear would sport. Fortuuk, the chief of mining and ore extraction. The bugbear I had left in charge of the mining beetles.
But it wasn't just him that rose, another figure beside him also got to his feet, this one an old-as-bones orc that somehow had the wiry muscles of an Olympic god despite his severe age. He quickly recognized him as the representative of the craftsmen I hired back in Ebongrave, a master blacksmith famed in that huge monster city by the name of Alorick.
"My Lord," Fortuuk said, giving an awkward half-bow as he appeared to be very uncomfortable in this large gathering - looking as if he'd give anything to find the nearest mineshaft and jump headfirst into it.
"The Hemaites have proven to be more effective and useful beyond any estimations," He cleared his throat, not able to hide his growing excitement as he spoke, shedding some of that stiffness he had in front of everyone. "In just day's work, they each do the work of what a hundred grunts could do in an entire week - to near perfection I might add. From excavation and mine construction to ore extraction, abyss - they even process and purify all ores for us to use without break or downtime. With the queen being both a breeding pod for more workers and doubling as a living smelter, we're turning out ingots of the purest make within no time. "
"All of this alone makes them invaluable, but that is not all of it. In fact, most important is their raw strength and powerful senses. They have an innate ability to sense out ore veins and can excavate any ore with extreme ease. A testament to this is the fact that we've located a small pocket of mithril veins running deep beneath the spine of the basin."
This caused a hubbub or voices speaking excitedly amongst each other, as while none of them were blacksmiths, they very well knew the reputation of the famed material which could withstand any blow and conduct magic like almost nothing else.
"Yet, that is not even close in value to what other we have discovered with the help of the Hemaites," Fortuuk paused with a smile splitting his furry face from ear to ear. "Adamantine! And there are endless droves of it!"
Now, this really created some stir among the gathered monsters, though instead of just having faces of delight as they did with the mithrill, there was now a healthy amount of conflicted expressions.
In contrast to mithril, adamantine was literally thought to be nigh-indestructible. But most importantly, instead of conducting and amplifying magic, adamantine heavily weakened it and downright nullified it in some cases. Adamantine was a beyond precious and rare material coveted by the most skilled and masterful of craftsmen, however, it was useless in the hands of almost everyone else.
That was because of exactly how indestructible it was. It was impossible to harvest considering its durability and the fact that even magical means won't work in the efforts of harvesting it. That alone made it worth less than dirt to most, not even to mention that you actually also had to smelt and forge it into something usable which was an even more arduous task.
That was why it was only with the most legendary of smiths and forges that the metal was of any use.
"I understand your thoughts - but as I said, the Hemaites are much more than just useful."
Furtook smiled a wolfish grin, looking to the wisened old but muscular orc, and gave him a firm nod.
"Hmm, come - come," The master blacksmith said, motioning forward a much younger orc who looked to be his apprentice that had been standing not far away.
But despite the apprentice's juvenile body, it still rippled with the muscles afforded to him by his greenskin heritage. He heaved a clothed bundle of something in his arms, the strain making it clear that whatever he was carrying was truly heavy.
A loud thud and light clinking of metal could be heard ringing out as he deposited the cloth bundle on the table, hurrying to scurry away as his master took the place.
And as the blacksmith unveiled what lay within, all fell silent.
An amber-red chainmail of exquisite make and a matching short-sword glinted in the light of the torches for all to see.