Reborn As A Beastman With A System

There were many task to perform in the bustling confines of the tribe.

Only a mere fraction, one tenth, of the warriors were actively engaged, kept in ready reserve under the watchful command of the core chief. These warriors were not merely soldiers; they were the sharpened blade by which the chief maintained dominion over the vast expanse of the tribe.

This iron-fisted control was the very reason behind the Silvermane Tribe's rampant expansion, a tactic admired and feared far and wide.

To counter the potential rise of a similarly overpowering force, Logan, a seasoned tactician weary of history's cruel repetitions, introduced conscription. This new system purged the military ranks of nepotism and favoritism, streamlining the process into a meritocracy.

"Consider the tragedy that befell the last battalion," Logan mused one evening. "So many from the same kin, fallen in one fell swoop. Fathers, brothers, entire generations wiped out, leaving behind nothing but the vulnerable." The weight of such losses had spurred him to action, thus birthing the conscription system.

During a council meeting, Logan inquired about future military expansions, his voice echoing slightly off the stone walls. "So, what scale of force are we contemplating?"

Commander Kro, a figure of staunch resolve, suggested, "Maintaining our numbers at 6,000 seems prudent. With our current demographics, 17,000 adults at their prime, including 6,000 capable women, there's ample pool to draw from."

Begon, the tribe's statistician, added, "Even accounting for those already serving, we have about 9,000 potential soldiers. Selecting 3,500 from them should be straightforward."

Logan nodded, absorbing the numbers. The loss had been great; young, vigorous orcs lost to conflict while the old and frail perished in the famine's wake.

"Rest assured, Uncle, I'll discuss these figures with Commander Kro. Your concern is noted but unnecessary."

Shifting topics, Logan queried about the general welfare of the tribe. "And how do we fare broader afield?"

"All is stable, Chief," Begon reassured, a smile breaking across his face. "And there's more good news. Each month, our dragon rat culls in the animal pens yield 30,000 carcasses, ensuring meat for the tribe."

Begon's enthusiasm was palpable. He had recently visited the Kodiak pens, astonished at their expanded capacity. "Not just dragon rats, Chief. We've got a dozen species of low-level magical beasts now. Kodiak believes we'll soon have enough to provide meat at every meal."

"That is indeed good news," Logan replied, a lightness in his tone. "It seems Kodiak has been quite busy. Excellent."

In these exchanges, the fabric of the tribe was woven, through strategies and sustenance, with Logan at the helm, guiding them towards stability and strength.

He wasn't astounded by the monthly provision of 30,000 dragon rats. However, he did note the burgeoning population of the tribe. A few months back, those rats could afford ten meals per tribesman, but now, each was lucky to see even one in a month. Still, it was a stark improvement from the days when securing even three was a challenge, let alone 30,000.

"Yes, Kodiak has been quite busy," Begon said, a grin spreading across his face as he recalled his recent visit to the stables. "He's brought in a whole slew of low-level monster cubs. Last I checked, our stable staff has ballooned to over 500, tending to more than a dozen different types of creatures, dragon rats included."

Everywhere Begon looked, the rapid transformation of the Silver Mane Tribe was evident, and he was proud to be a driving force behind this progress. He pondered the future, wondering just how far they could push the boundaries of their growth.

Logan chuckled, "It seems we'll never be short of meat again with these developments!"

Begon nodded, his smile persistent. "And it's not just the animal pens thriving. The snake people have been exceptionally productive too. Astali and his kin delivered nearly 900,000 kilograms of fish this month."

"Over 900,000 kilograms?" Logan echoed in disbelief. Given the snake people's adeptness at fishing and their modest numbers, just over 200 it was an astonishing feat.

"Indeed, the tribesmen now enjoy fish at every meal, a significant lift in their standard of living," Begon continued. "And under Astali's guidance, we've even established a fishing fleet. Together with the snake people, around 700 orcs are bringing in over 50,000 kilograms of fish and crabs daily."

"A fishing fleet?" Logan raised his eyebrows, impressed yet curious. "Do we have anyone skilled in shipbuilding?"

The snake people's prowess in fishing was understandable given the abundant resources of the Danube River, which, by some estimates, held the bounty of several hundred Yangtze Rivers combined.

"The snake people include skilled shipbuilders among their ranks," Begon explained.

Logan shook his head in amazement. "The snake people really have brought us a tremendous boon."

"Indeed," Begon agreed, his smile unwavering. "And while fish may not be as savory as other meats, it's still meat, and it's feeding our people." The pragmatic approach to their sustenance echoed the tribe's resilience and adaptability, promising a robust future for all.

"Apart from these, the cultivated land in Cobos has now surpassed 10,000 acres," Begon mentioned casually, but with a hint of pride.

"Ten thousand acres? That quickly?" Logan replied, his eyebrows arching in surprise. His last visit had revealed a stretch of just over six thousand acres, making this news particularly striking.

With a knowing grin, Begon explained, "Well, we've got more hands now, and the land reclamation crew under Cobos has grown substantially. They're turning over one to two hundred acres every day."

Logan nodded, impressed by the efficiency.

"Additionally," Begon continued, "Cobos came by yesterday to tell me about the thousand acres of sweet potatoes and potatoes that are ready for harvest."

"What do you think? Should we give Cobos the go-ahead to start the harvest?" Begon asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Logan chuckled softly, musing about the origins of those resilient, high-yield crops. He had a particular fondness for sweet potatoes and potatoes, after all, they were a welcome change from the almost inedible gray bread he'd grown sick of.

He calculated mentally; the output from those thousand acres could well exceed 10 million kilograms. The very thought brought a wave of excitement. With such abundance, the tribe was not just financially secure but also free from the specter of famine.

"Let him start. If Cobos thinks it's time, then we should get the tribesmen on it immediately," Logan decided with a wave of his hand.

Enjoy new tales from m-v l'-NovelFire

"Has Cobos lost his touch with all this farming? He seems to want my input on everything. Not the sharpest, is he?" Logan jested lightly, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement.

The potential yield from those fields was staggering, even by his standards, a fact that didn't escape his consideration.

"Absolutely!" Begon agreed with a vigorous nod.

Then, turning to his side where his younger brother Reynolds stood, Begon smiled broadly and gestured towards him. "Your turn!"

Reynolds, stepping forward, nodded with palpable enthusiasm but also a visible trace of nerves. This was his first time formally presenting his work to his nephew, Logan, and it was crucial. His role at the winery not only held his future in the tribe but could also reinstate him to a core position within their ranks.

Confidence surged through him initially, bolstered by the recent transformations at the winery. Yet, a lingering doubt shadowed his thoughts, especially after hearing about the staggering output from Canyon City Winery.

But as he began to speak, his voice steadied. This was his moment to shine.