Outside the beastkin tribe's encampment, James and Martin stood in the biting wind, their breaths forming clouds in the frigid air as snow swirled around them. They faced a line of beastkin knights, their stern gazes and poised weapons a silent warning of vigilance. The two men waited patiently for the beastkin knight who had gone to report their arrival, the howling blizzard doing little to ease the tension in the air.
James, ever observant, narrowed his sharp eyes as he studied the beastkin knights. Their armor caught his attention—or rather, its condition did. Many of the knights wore rusted, patchwork metal armor, while others donned simple leather, scuffed and weathered by time and use. For gatekeepers, the first line of defense and a tribe's public face, their equipment should have been the finest, polished to inspire awe and respect. Yet, the state of their gear told a different story—one of hardship and scarcity. James's mind churned with calculations. A tribe in such straits would be desperate, and desperation meant leverage. The goods he carried, vital supplies for a struggling people, suddenly felt like gold in his hands. His confidence in the upcoming negotiations grew; he was certain he could secure the deal his young master had entrusted to him.
Thud… thud… thud…
The rapid crunch of boots on snow announced the return of the beastkin knight. He sprinted through the storm, his fur cloak dusted white, and stopped before the gates. With a surprising degree of courtesy, he addressed James and Martin. "The caravan is invited to the meeting hall. Please, follow me."
"Very well," Martin replied with a nod, exchanging a quick glance with James. The two men fell into step behind the knight, trailed by five seasoned, fully armed human soldiers. The rest of their caravan remained behind, guarding the precious cargo under the watchful eyes of the beastkin sentries.
Crunch… crunch… crunch…
The group trudged through the snow, their boots sinking into the drifts as they followed the knight to the tribe's meeting hall. The hall was, in truth, a massive sheepskin tent, its thick hides stitched together to form a sturdy, if unrefined, structure. This was no mere shelter—it was the heart of the tribe's governance, where Princess Perry convened her knights to strategize and make decisions that shaped their future. The tent's imposing size and the faint glow of firelight seeping through its seams spoke of its importance, even in the midst of the storm.
Inside, the meeting hall was sparsely furnished, with a row of sturdy wooden chairs arranged in a semicircle. James selected a seat, his eyes scanning the entrance where a dozen beastkin knights stood guard, their hands resting on the hilts of swords or the shafts of spears. Their vigilance was palpable, a testament to the tribe's wariness of outsiders. James noted their alertness, his mind cataloging every detail for the negotiations ahead.
Thud… thud… thud…
After a brief wait, footsteps echoed outside the tent, sharp and purposeful. A figure entered, clad in full armor and a heavy beast-hide cloak that obscured nearly every feature save for a pair of piercing golden eyes. A rough linen mask covered their face, and a helmet sat snugly atop their head, concealing even the shape of their ears or hair. Beside them walked a maid, her delicate features and curled horns marking her as a sheep-kin beastkin. James's keen eyes studied the pair, but the cloaked figure offered no clues—not even a hint of whether they were male or female.
"Greetings, Leader," Martin said, rising swiftly to offer a polished noble's bow. James followed suit, standing and bowing with measured respect. A tribe of tens of thousands demanded caution, and though this was his first encounter with its leader, he knew better than to underestimate them.
"Sit," The cloaked figure said, their voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority. They waved a hand dismissively, their golden eyes sweeping over the group, lingering briefly on the well-equipped human soldiers before settling on Martin and James.
The two men exchanged another glance, their surprise mirrored in each other's eyes. The voice—clear, measured, and unmistakably feminine—revealed the leader to be a woman. It was an unexpected revelation, one that piqued their curiosity about the tribe's dynamics.
"I am Martin, who has traded with your tribe in the past," Martin said, seizing the moment to establish familiarity. He spoke with the practiced ease of a merchant accustomed to delicate negotiations.
Perry tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing as she considered him. "Very well, Martin. Are you here to purchase sheep? Or perhaps draft horses?" Her tone was direct, cutting through pleasantries. She had little patience for the human tendency to dance around intentions with flowery words—she wanted answers, not flattery.
Martin blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. He recovered quickly, gesturing to his companion. "Leader, I'm not here to buy sheep or horses myself. I'm merely the intermediary. My associate, Mr. James, is the one seeking to purchase sheep."
"Oh?" Perry's brow arched, her golden eyes shifting to James. His face was unremarkable—plain, with no distinguishing features that hinted at wealth or status. She leaned forward slightly, her voice cool but curious. "And where does Mr. James hail from?"
"Sedona City," James replied evenly, meeting her gaze without flinching.
"Sedona City?" Perry's brow furrowed, and she glanced at her maid, who shook her head subtly, indicating she'd never heard of the place. The name meant nothing to Perry, and her interest began to wane.
Martin, sensing her skepticism, jumped in. "Leader, Sedona City is a settlement in the western territories, governed by Baron Lucas. He's a man of considerable talent and vision." His words were carefully chosen, painting a picture of a prosperous and capable lord without delving into specifics.
"I see," Perry said, her tone flat. A minor baron from some city? She doubted he had the resources to make a significant purchase. Humans often exaggerated their leaders' virtues, and she had little reason to believe this Lucas was any different. "Very well," She added, her voice tinged with disinterest.
Martin pressed on, undeterred. "Leader, Baron Lucas has also sent you a letter." He reached into his coat, producing a sealed parchment and handing it to a nearby beastkin knight, who inspected it before passing it to Perry's maid. The maid carefully opened it, checking for any hidden threats before handing it to her princess.
"A letter for me?" Perry said, her tone laced with mild surprise. She took the parchment, her golden eyes scanning the neatly written lines. The letter was filled with polite platitudes—expressions of goodwill, promises of cooperation, and a request to purchase a large quantity of sheep and draft horses. To Perry, it read like typical human rhetoric: grand words with little substance. She'd dealt with enough merchants to know their promises often outstripped their actions. Setting the letter aside, she gave it a mental shrug—boring and insincere, just as she'd expected.
"I've read the letter," She said, her voice cool and businesslike. "Mr. James, your baron speaks of purchasing a 'large quantity' of sheep and horses. How many, exactly?"
"Two thousand sheep," James replied, his tone steady and serious. The real negotiation had begun.
"Two thousand sheep," Perry repeated softly, almost to herself. Then her eyes widened, her golden irises gleaming with shock. "Wait—did you say two thousand sheep?"
"Yes," James confirmed with a nod, his expression calm. "Two thousand sheep per month."
"What?" Perry's jaw dropped, her voice catching in her throat. She stared at James, disbelief etched across her face. "Two thousand sheep per month?"
The number wasn't staggering in the context of her tribe's tens of thousands of sheep, but it was unprecedented. No single transaction in her tribe's history had ever reached such a scale. Her mind raced, weighing the implications. Could this be real, or was it some elaborate human trick?
"Yes," James said simply. He knew this was a test deal—two thousand sheep wouldn't sustain Sedona City's population of over ten thousand for a full month, but it was a start, a foothold for future trade.
"And the price?" Perry asked, her voice cautious. If the offer was too low, this would be nothing but a fleeting hope.
"One pound of mutton for fourteen copper coins," James said, his tone matter-of-fact. The price was about ten percent below the market rate—a fair deal, but not so low as to insult her intelligence.
"Fourteen copper coins," Perry murmured, closing her eyes briefly as she considered the offer. It matched the prices other tribes charged, which surprised her. The last human caravan had tried to haggle her down to ten copper coins per pound—an insult she hadn't forgotten. Was this Lucas truly as open-minded as his letter claimed, or was there a hidden agenda? Her instincts, honed by years of dealing with duplicitous merchants, screamed caution.
"What do you think of the price, Leader?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's acceptable," Perry said, her voice firm. "Fourteen copper coins it is." Her mind churned with possibilities. If this was a ploy, she'd ensure they paid in full before a single sheep left her camp. No risks, no exceptions.
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