Chapter 488: Chapter 81 Contact_3
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Thirty kiloters west of the main Paratu encampnt, inside the central tent of the Haidong Tribe, several n were quarreling.
The central tent of the Haidong Tribe was exceptionally simple, even more so than the officer tents of the Paratu.
If a Paratu person entered here, he would surely be utterly disappointed.
Because the golden wine cups, silver platters, and lewdly dressed beauties that pervaded the imagination of the vast Paratu populace… all those extravagant and corrupt playthings were completely absent.
...
Inside the felt tent, there weren’t even tables or stools.
The ground was covered in wool blankets, and around twenty n sat on the floor, forming a circle without any distinction of rank or status.
[Note: The following dialogue is in Herder language]
Suddenly, the felt curtain of the tent was lifted, and a beam of light shot in, stinging the eyes of those within.
Two n of similar appearance walked into the felt tent.
The man who entered first was tall, his steps firm and steady.
His bones seed as solid as if they were wrought from lead, he had a pair of large-jointed hands, and he possessed a set of calm brown eyes.
The man who ca after held within him a vitality that would make others envious, a magical force called youth: no matter what injuries he suffered, a sleep would heal them; no matter what setbacks he encountered, after drying his tears, he could rise again.
The other n in the tent had once possessed this magical force: unfearful of falls, unafraid to bleed, crying hard, laughing hard… but that was all in the past now.
Now, every move they made was cautious, as each wound took plenty of ti to heal.
Every ti they opened their eyes, they could feel the vitality within them lesser than the last ti they had opened them.
Age brought wealth, exchanged for power, they consoled themselves.
But deep down they all knew: Nonsense! I would give anything to be young again.
So they looked on with envy at the younger man—although they were unwilling to admit their jealousy.
The young man also had a pair of brown eyes, which, like two awls underneath short and neat eyebrows, shone brightly.
As the two n walked into the tent, the inside of the felt tent suddenly fell quiet.
Those arguing n clamped their lips shut, waiting for the host to break the silence.
“Mighty White Lion, you have finally arrived,” a grey-eyed old man with greying hair stood up and enthusiastically embraced White Lion: “I and the other tribal leaders have been waiting for you.”
“Wise Grey Eyes,” White Lion also embraced the elder warmly and presented him with a golden eagle statue: “I gift you this spirit of the eagle, may your eyes forever be as sharp as that of an eagle.”
The elder accepted with a smile.
Afterward, White Lion embraced each leader in turn, and presented gifts.
Offering gifts was an important custom among the Herders, and although the value of the gifts did not need to be significant, the more expensive the better, of course.
The more precious the gift, the higher the rank of the giver implied, and the more important the receiver was considered.
After the whole procedure was completed, White Lion also took his seat within the circle. The young man who followed him—his brother Little Lion—sat down beside him.
To sit in this circle ant that anything could be spoken.
As soon as White Lion opened his mouth, it was as if he ignited an entire arsenal: “The won and children of the Red River Tribe that were captured by the tribes, I want them returned.”
The others’ reactions ranged from indifferent, to disgruntled, to genuinely interested, each wanting to speak.
“Do not speak yet, I have not finished,” White Lion continued: “The won with children, all the tribes must hand over; the won with husbands and brothers, the tribes must also give back; the rest of the won, the tribes may take away.”
[Note: Here the term “brothers” refers to the husband’s brothers]
A broad-shouldered and round-bellied chieftain spoke up: “White Lion, I ask you. If a piece of gold falls to the ground, to whom does it belong?”
“Strong Eater, I answer you, to whoever seizes it, it belongs.”
“A group of won running into the wilderness is the sa, to whoever seizes them, they belong. The tribes raid and kill each other, today you take one of my sheep, tomorrow I take one of your cows, to whoever can take it, it is theirs. There is only taking back, no giving back.”
“Exactly,” White Lion said as he sat up straight. “I have already begun taking.”
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Once these words were spoken, nearly half of the tribal leaders’ expressions changed.
“You’ve already started taking hostages?” The robust eater imdiately flew into a rage.
“That’s right.”
The other chiefs silently watched the two in confrontation.
“Do you want to start a fight?”
“If you don’t give them to , we’ll fight.”
“The bipeds are in the east!”
“So what? If the tribes fight each other, whoever can snatch them owns them.”
“The bipeds are in the east, and yet you prey on ?”
“The bipeds are in the east, haven’t you preyed on ?”
Grey Eyes laughed heartily and pacified the two, “Valiant White Lion! Articulate White Lion! It’s just a few won, robust eater, you should return them. Where’s the firemaker?”
“The firemaker is taking hostages.”
“Did you hear that? Return the won of the Red River Tribe. We tribes have gathered here not to fight each other.”
The Terdun Tribe and Haidong Tribe cast their votes in favor, and the tense Little Lion slightly relaxed.
“If the tribes return the won and children of the Red River Tribe, I will offer my share of the war spoils as a reciprocal gift.”
“Fair enough,” the robust eater also nodded in agreent.
The Suz Tribe also cast their vote in favor,
The crowd clapped their hands in oath, and the matter was settled.
Discussion within the Herder’s tent was for resolving the sharpest conflicts.
Therefore, tribal chiefs said what they needed to, pulling at collars and swinging fists was common, but killing was forbidden.
Once out of the felt tent, fighting or killing, each to their own.
After a mont of silence inside the tent, the host of this place—the Khan of the Haidong Tribe [Grey Eyes]—spoke, “Chiefs of the tribes, please listen to . The body should have a head, and clothes should have a collar; that is best.”
This was a serious, important matter, far more significant than the fate of a few won, and the tribal chiefs all pricked up their ears.
“This is not the grand council eting, nor are we here to elect a great Khan, but to choose a war chief who will lead us to victory over the bipeds. The tribes are like arrows, each separated and alone; each arrow can easily be broken. If we unite and work together, no one will find it easy to oppose us.”
Alone one is easily snappable, but together we are hard to break. The story of breaking arrows was known to every Herder, but knowing was easier than doing.
“We must elect a war chief, and once elected, we have to hand over the power of life and death to him; only then can we win this war. Otherwise, we’ll end up like before, with the grass turning green again and again, and the bipeds humiliating us ti after ti. Our borders have already retreated to The Styx; do we have anywhere else to retreat to?”
To hand over the power of life and death? The tribal chiefs hesitated.
Only White Lion remained calm.
In the end, Grey Eyes spoke emphatically, “I am too old, I can no longer wield a sword, I won’t choose. Elect soone else, and I will carry my bow and ride my horse, following him to battle. Don’t worry, we are not electing a great Khan, just until we win this battle.”
The tribal chiefs looked towards White Lion.
White Lion agreed readily, “My people have suffered many casualties; I also won’t choose.”
“Then what’s there to discuss?” the robust eater spoke up, “If White Lion won’t choose, if Grey Eyes won’t choose…”
A string of urgent shouts interrupted the robust eater’s words: “Khan! Emissaries from the bipeds have co!”
Grey Eyes’s expression changed dramatically; he struggled to his feet with one hand on the ground and walked outside the tent.
The other chiefs followed him out.
“What do they want?”
“They want to negotiate a truce.”
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