A new day had come, and from my bed of furs I could already hear the voices of people outside, stirring the village to life. I stepped out of my shelter and walked toward the central square. The villagers I had given tasks to yesterday came forward, one by one, eager to show me what they had accomplished. They presented to me crude but functional axes, their stone blades sharp enough to cut down trees with ease. There were shovels now too, heavy but usable, ready to dig earth for channels or pits. And most importantly, they had managed to shape dozens of spearheads and arrowheads from stone, each tied to a shaft with string and resin. We could fight if we had to. We could hunt larger game without as much risk.
As they showed me their work, their eyes shone with something more than pride. It was reverence. They looked at me not only as a man but as a figure to follow, almost as if every word I spoke could shape their reality. If I had said the sun would not rise tomorrow, I felt they might have believed it. I accepted their offerings and thanked them. Yet, as I glanced around, I noticed Karlmos in the distance, his jaw tight and his expression hard. He was not pleased. The people were beginning to show me the same, or perhaps greater, respect than him. This rivalry would not disappear easily. I would need to tread carefully, win the trust of the people, and gather their loyalty without sparking open conflict too soon.
I reminded the villagers that later we would go hunting, so they should be ready. They nodded without hesitation, their posture alert, as if even if I had commanded them to walk into death itself, they would have obeyed. That loyalty was powerful, but also dangerous. I could not waste it.
At that moment, Annabel came running toward me, her hair loose and her steps light, but her expression mixed with worry and joy. As always, beside her was that same friend I had seen with her since the first day, the one who seemed like her shadow, always by her side. Annabel's face softened when she reached me, her voice carrying the warmth of familiarity. She asked how my night had been, if I was well. I kept my answer brief but firm: I was fine, strong, focused. Then I leaned closer and told her in a steady tone, "I will never harm you. I will never let harm come to you. With me, you are safe. Do not be afraid." My words seemed to calm her heart; she smiled faintly, her lips trembling in relief.
Later that morning, I walked with Karlmos to the chief's cave. Pre was waiting there, seated with a few of the strongest men of the tribe. They gestured for me to join them, and soon we were bent over a crude map etched into the dirt floor with sticks and stones. They described the neighboring tribe, the one I had spied on during the night. Pre's eyes searched mine. "What do you think, Ragno? What did you see?"
I inhaled deeply, recalling every detail I had studied. "Their numbers are larger than ours. Perhaps forty adults in total. Many of their men are hunters and defenders, always carrying weapons. They favor long spears with stone tips, though most are rough and fragile. Some of them use slings, but their aim is poor, unreliable. The rest carry heavy clubs. They have crude axes, sharp but uneven, easy to break. Their shovels are made from jagged stone, slow to use but functional. A few among them know how to bind hides into cords, though their knots are weak compared to ours. They are attempting to preserve meat, hanging it in branches or smoking it in shallow pits, but their method is clumsy. Half their stock looked spoiled when I saw it. Still, this is a step ahead of us, they understand food does not last forever and are preparing for the winter."
[+120 XP]
Stealth +1
Observation +2
New Skill Unlocked: [Reconnaissance Lv.1]
Reputation: Trusted Scout
The room was silent for a moment. My words weighed heavy. I added, "They have weaknesses, but they are not fools. They are better equipped than we were a few days ago. If war comes, we cannot take them lightly." Karlmos scoffed, his scarred face twisting. "Even if they are weak, they are many. We could not bring down their leader as a clan. How do you expect to do it alone?"
I met his glare without fear. "Yesterday you feared fire, thought it was a curse. Now, because of me, you eat cooked meat and sit in warmth. Do not doubt what I can achieve. If I choose, I can kill their chief." The words came from me like thunder. The others shifted, eyes wide, and for the first time, I felt the balance of power tilt. Pre raised a hand, steady and commanding. "Enough. Ragno, your task is not to kill, not yet. Be patient. Watch them. Learn more. Then you will bring us your report." His voice carried finality. I bowed my head in agreement, even though a fire burned in my chest.
When evening came, I prepared for my mission. I smeared mud across my face, arms, and legs, camouflaging myself against the darkness. I strapped on my cloak of hides, adjusted the horned helmet, and carried my spears and blades. The night was quiet, the forest alive with the distant howls of unseen beasts, but my mind was focused. Step by step, I approached the neighboring village.
From the shadows, I observed. They were more organized than us, though still bound by primitive ways. I saw their guards pacing with long spears, their women working hides near the fires, their men returning with game strung across their backs. Children ran barefoot, tossing pebbles and laughing, though even they carried small sticks, imitating their fathers.
I moved from one hiding place to another, shifting positions constantly to avoid notice. I counted their numbers again, noted their weapons, their crude shelters of wood and hide. They had no fire mastery; I could see it in how their flames sputtered and died when the wind shifted. They waited for sparks from dry lightning or from rubbing wood endlessly until smoke rose. They had not yet bent fire fully to their will, as I had taught my own people. That was their greatest weakness, and I intended to keep it in mind.
Hours passed as I tracked their routines. Which men carried the sharpest spears, which women stitched hides with care, which children lingered near the chief's shelter. Their leader, an older man with thick shoulders and a necklace of carved bone, sat surrounded by his warriors. His strength was visible, but his reliance on sheer numbers and brute force was clearer still.
Part of me itched to strike, to prove my words true and cut down their chief in the night. I could see the path, see the opening. But Pre's voice echoed in my mind: "Be patient." I held myself back. To win trust, I would need restraint. To gain true power, I would need timing.
As dawn crept across the sky, painting the horizon with pale light, I slipped away from the edge of their village. The forest swallowed me again, and I retraced my steps silently back to my own camp. By the time I reached my cave, the village was just beginning to stir, the people yawning and stretching awake. I sat inside Ragno's Haven, reviewing every detail I had witnessed, storing it all in my mind like a second map. Soon they would awaken fully, and I would give them my report.
But for now, I waited. Silent. Patient. Preparing for the moment when knowledge would become power.