Chapter 102: Riverside Bend Has Grown into a Large Village!

The wild clansmen of the Wolffang Tribe never imagined that Leo would actually bring reinforcements to meet them. They felt like refugees seeking shelter with distant relatives—grateful just to be taken in, let alone welcomed halfway through their journey. They were utterly astonished and even sensed that the others were more eager for their arrival than they themselves were.

Of course, Leo was eager—these were wild hunters, after all! During the ambush on the Boarmen, the waterfall tribe’s backup consisted of fifty Basaka archers, including elders, youths, and women mixed in; only about two-thirds were true wild hunters. Yet they accounted for seventy percent of the casualties in that battle.

The Wolffang Tribe had clearly pledged fifty genuine wild hunters to join the militia of Riverbend. When life and death hang in the balance, even the remaining Basakas could pick up their bows.

The Wolffang migration set out from the northern rocky hills, winding along the mountain foothills for over a hundred miles. Along the way, they suffered several attacks from Boarmen and Jackalmen. The losses were not heavy but the ordeal was grueling. These attacks came from nearby wandering alien tribes; the larger, thousand-strong mixed tribe to the north did not pursue them.

These small alien bands, numbering in the dozens or a hundred, dared not face the two hundred-strong Wolffang Tribe head-on. Driven by hunger, they launched repeated suicide raids, hoping to trade their own worthless lives for a few of the humans’ elderly or weak to fill their bellies.

After just over a hundred miles, the hardy clansmen were already exhausted; their arrows dwindled. Some wild hunters had begun to put away their longbows, preparing to meet the next battle with spears.

Leo understood the hardships of wilderness migration well. Alone, he could traverse hundreds of miles of mountains and rivers as if it were a playground, but leading a group with elders, children, and supplies deep into the wilds made survival uncertain.

The first journey of the Riverbend caravan from the western watchtower to Riverbend was only thirty miles but nearly broke the villagers. The terrain around the Wolffang wilderness foothills was far rougher.

The tribe had almost no draft animals; all their supplies were carried on the shoulders of the able-bodied. The entire caravan had only a few hand-pulled carts and wheelbarrows.

The harsh upheavals of the wilderness left no time for proper preparation, and the Wolffang Tribe lacked a military leader as capable as Uriyan.

The arrival of the militia ended the Wolffang Tribe’s suffering. The carts were hitched to donkeys, supplies loaded onto horses, and abundant food distributed among the clansmen. The wild hunters tasked with hunting finally got a chance to rest.

These wild hunters protected their people during the migration and served as the main fighting force, while racing against time to hunt and prevent starvation within the tribe.

One must admit the northern peoples possessed a strong sense of tribal unity. Like the Riverbend migrants, the young and able-bodied bore the brunt of casualties; the stronger the hunter, the more wounds he bore.

Over the next several dozen miles, aided by the militia, the route was nearly unobstructed; not a single donkey cart overturned.

Leo devised a reasonable schedule for the migration. The elderly and weak among the walking clansmen had ample time to rest, and with three large iron pots, they could enjoy hot meals.

This was already Riverbend’s territory; prowling jackalmen and boarmen dared not venture here. The clansmen’s watch calls echoed through the night, allowing everyone to sleep soundly.

The migration finally halted on a small hill opposite Riverbend, separated from the southern logging camp by a stream about ten meters wide.

This was the resettlement area allocated to the Wolffang Tribe by Uriyan. Timber processed at the logging site was being continuously delivered and piled high in the cleared fields.

These three settlements formed a triangular cluster, interconnected by small boats, closely linked yet relatively independent.

Uriyan had planned to build a floating bridge over Riverbend, but at the Eisenborough market, quality cables were exorbitantly expensive, and the villagers’ homemade hemp ropes failed to meet his standards. The plan was postponed.

Currently, Riverbend territory housed over three hundred people, mostly Uriyan’s kin and refugees from several nearby villages, along with dozens of locals from around Eisenborough.

The proportion of able-bodied adults was barely half.

The logging camp had over a hundred people, nearly all young laborers and a small number of healthy women.

The Wolffang Tribe numbered close to two hundred, half of whom were able-bodied. These wild clansmen fought alien tribes year-round and lived by fishing and hunting, making them formidable warriors.

Together, the three settlements totaled over seven hundred inhabitants—a sizable village.

Including the kobolds from the Doghead Valley—qualified laborers and skilled miners—the population neared the thousand mark.

In the vast and sparsely populated North, a permanent population exceeding a thousand counted as a small town.

Typical northern villages usually numbered between three to five hundred, some as few as one or two hundred. A population over seven hundred marked a large village.

A standard knight’s fiefdom comprised a village of about a hundred households, with four to seven hundred people—sufficient to support one knight along with his knights’ attendants and armed retainers.

Given Riverbend’s current state, barring mishaps, if everyone worked diligently mining, farming, hunting, and logging, they could not only support Uriyan the knight but also transform the entire first squad of fifty militia into full-time soldiers.

When Count Frelov calls for war, Uriyan will lead his two knight attendants, Leo and Vich—Ivan is not yet qualified—and fifty armed retainers, with the addition of dozens or hundreds of conscripted peasants, to fight for their liege.

Among the horn-flag knights, such a force is no small matter; it commands respect and rivals the square-flag.

After all, horn-flag knights serve with one knight, two attendants, ten armed soldiers, and twenty conscripted peasants.

In battle, conscripted peasants or serfs seldom engage directly; they serve mainly as laborers and auxiliaries, transporting supplies, repairing roads, and setting up camps—logistical support.

There are differences between the North and South in this regard. Northerners prefer to showcase bravery before equals and fight under the watchful eye of Tyr, the god of war.

Fully armored knights and soldiers regard unarmed serfs and commoners as non-combatants, mere spoils of war.

Southern knights think otherwise; they see excess population as a burden to be sacrificed without hesitation, believing the Holy Light shines on all and that everyone should fight together.

Some southern provinces, having enjoyed centuries of peace, frequently wage wars over the ownership of a single rabbit.

They worry both about their own soldiers’ casualties and about enemy soldiers unhorsing them, so they tacitly agree to send only serfs into battle, allowing knights to charge more comfortably.

Thus, the North and South differ greatly in their martial customs and social attitudes toward war.