Rows of troops welcomed the new day with discipline, marching out of the fledgling city, Luoyang.
Leading them were Zhong Yu and fifty imperial guards in rows of five. The majestic guard had its bright armor shining in the sun’s glow.
In the middle were the 300 recruits with tense faces from fear of the unknown and what was to come.
Or perhaps a thrill, yearning to gain merit in this battle to rise above their station with glory.
The human condition came in many shapes and sizes, but regardless of their individual ethos, one thing was set in stone, they were going to war.
Bringing up the rear was the 26 slaves, with Ye Yuan as their leader, the same one who took it upon himself to kneel yesterday.
They walked woodenly with a hard and bloodthirsty face, not giving a damn about anyone, knowing they were so close to death.
All that mattered was who was the target and how many.’ When will the fight start? Will we survive?’
While the other 50 imperial guards patrolled around the area to catch any incoming enemy attacks and thwart it. Or maybe they were there to keep an eye on any deserters from the slave corp or recruits.
War was cruelty, containing certain death. In the face of one’s demise, many shocking and unbelievable things occur all for a chance at life.
This was how the army procession marched out of the town, under the people’s eyes. Zhong Yu was leading on an unknown journey to an unknown destination.
In a corner of a plane with water and lush vegetation, a perfect spot for animals had the Monla tribe set up camp. They had been leaving her for so long, it’s been a decade already.
To protect them in this lush slice of heaven, the first time they came here, they rarely had rank two Denel leading the waning tribe with few warriors on him from fighting Edson tribe and its small tribe allies.
Here, the Monla thrived and grew, all thanks to him, and they honored him with chieftain hood.
Denel was never one to disappoint as he had gotten the tribe from just 100 people into double that in these ten years.All to have their sworn enemy crushed beneath their foot and become the ruler of this 10km slice of land.
For the same reason the Elder got rid of the elders, and so many warriors chose to follow his trend of thriving.
But the prideful faces of the people here from having grown so much in the past ten years were sunken and plagued by sorrow.
Their husbands, sons and fathers, fell in battle and left few stragglers running back in fear, with some even gone insane, talking to themselves.
The managers of the tribe and shaman questioned the unbalanced yet still coherent cowards after much coaxing about what on earth happened.
They’d rather not have known. Denel died, the same Denel who beat all the surrounding tribes, with an honorless death, ganging up
With so many losses, including Denel, the tribe’s safety was at stake. This lush area would catch on the greedy eyes of other tribes around and might even fall under another’s rule.
Thinking of their fates, sorrow gripped their hearts and hatred at the one who took so many of their kin from them.
In the tribal hall, several people discussed the future course of the tribe.
“What can we do? The chieftain is dead, our warriors are dead, and the tribe has never been weaker. The only capable fighters we have are barely ten. Even if we add those barely capable, we will still only have twenty, with most of them too old.” The speaker was a thin elderly.
He was the grand elder whose survival in the earlier tribe’s purge he had to thank for his limited influence and spineless nature. Denel had him take the position of grand elder to appease his fellow tribesmen.
“We need to gather our forces and ask other tribes for help to attack those yellow-skins. They are a plague on this land, a demon sent to wipe us all out and the Ender Alliance!” One heavyset man with a fierce face spoke. He was one of the original few who were with Denel from the start and the chieftain rewarded his loyalty by making him second elder.
“Let’s not fight. Let’s hear what lord shaman has to say. He is the wisest among us, able to commune with spirits. We need to heed his words.” Said a plain man in his fifties. He was bald with sparse white hair.
“Lord shaman, what do you think?” Grand Elder and second elder asked.
“This is not the time to think about fighting our enemy, but the clan’s survival. We lost too many warriors to deter the other tribes and protect this lush land. We must look for another safe place, now while they haven’t noticed our weakness.”
The shaman’s calm and steady voice echoed in everyone’s ears.
‘The tribe is on its last leg and we need to consider the tribe’s safety not to go to war with our bitter enemy. Since they beat the alliance, they must be even stronger.’
What he needed right now was a way to keep his tribe alive.
As the debate continued, a guard burst in in panic, scrambling before the elders and stammering, “Shaman, elders, t-there’s some people in odd clothes outside the tribe. Most of them have yellow skin and are just like the survivors described. They’re the army of that unknown tribe!”
The shaman and elders’ faces showed fear and horror.
