Riven himself yearned with all his heart for a day when no one in their community would ever have to cry from hunger again, but how on earth were they supposed to achieve that?
Relying solely on their Hunting Party - a meager force of seven exhausted Totem Warriors - every single hunter would drop dead from physical exhaustion in the deep woods long before they could satisfy even a fraction of those needs.
“That is precisely why relying exclusively on traditional spear hunting absolutely will not work in the long run,” Elizabeth shook her head with unyielding conviction.
With the current, paltry number of Totem Warriors in the camp, even if they miraculously managed to double their ranks overnight, it still wouldn't spare the tribe from the constant, gnawing fear of starvation and freezing.
Moreover, properly training a new Totem Warrior from scratch took years of grueling trials and required continuously feeding the initiate massive quantities of highly nutritious Wild Beast Meat and Blood. This meant that rapidly scaling the clan's combat strength through sheer numbers was completely unrealistic at this stage.
“Uh…” Neria and Riven once again fell into a helpless silence, completely unable to follow her train of thought.
“Sharu, with all due respect, if we do not rely on our hunts, we will most certainly have nothing to put in our mouths before we all starve to death.”
Neria spoke with a deeply rigid, tight expression. In her mind, she was becoming increasingly convinced that their new leader was simply far too young, naive, and inexperienced in the brutal realities of life, leading her to childishly oversimplify matters of survival.
Elizabeth did not bother explaining her bold declarations further. Instead, with perfect composure in her voice, she asked another question:
“Do either of you even know what linen is and what it looks like?”
“Of course we know perfectly well! True linen is incredibly rare and unimaginably expensive! Only the highest chieftains and elders of the most powerful, massive tribes wear garments made of it!” Riven was the first to speak up. His violet pupils sparkled with such bright, childlike awe it was as if he could already see himself proudly parading around in airy linen robes instead of reeking pelts.
The corners of Elizabeth's mouth curled up into a barely perceptible smile as she instantly drew an accurate conclusion: linen fiber processing technology in this primitive world was still in its infancy and early adoption phase. It was treated as a highly exclusive luxury product for the largest clans - or perhaps even guarded as their strict trade secret.
“Which of you has personally been to this famous market hosted by the Fox Tribe?” she pressed further, resting her hands on her knees.
“We both have,” Neria answered pragmatically.
“Did you see anyone there trading finished linen?” Elizabeth narrowed her blue eyes slightly, scrutinizing their faces.
“Yes, we saw it, but the quantity of goods displayed is always miniscule and laughably small. The moment any linen appears, it is instantly bought out by the wealthier clans.” Riven nodded solemnly before a heavy sigh escaped him, recalling one of his most bitter memories from years past:
“Once, when our previous commander Kririn brought us to the market, we desperately wanted to buy even a single small roll of linen to sew proper, soft robes for our Sharu… Unfortunately, we brought far too little dried meat with us, and in the bidding, we didn't stand a ghost of a chance against the great tribes.”
“And exactly how much meat did you have to trade for a single roll of linen back then?” Elizabeth asked pragmatically.
“For one small roll of pure linen, they demanded three full stones of dried meat,” Neria answered with a grim expression.
“Three stones? And how much is that exactly? How heavy is one such stone?” Elizabeth felt a wave of mild disorientation, realizing that in this primitive society, standardized metric units of weight or length were a pipe dream.
“We don't know the exact weight ourselves. That measure is determined exclusively by the Fox Tribe governing the market, so we only learn the exact value on the spot when we place the meat on their massive scales.” Neria shook her horned head helplessly, explaining that since she hadn't led the group during the last expedition, she hadn't bothered to delve into the logistical details.
“What about the physical size of these reference stones? You should at least roughly remember how massive the boulders were, shouldn't you?” Elizabeth pressed. For her, precisely understanding the units used in trade was an absolute prerequisite for accurately assessing the profitability of the entire venture and preparing the correct inventory.
“One such stone from the market has a volume roughly equal to Riven's torso.” Neria looked around the tent and unceremoniously gestured with her hands toward the massive neck and hulking abdomen of the hunter standing beside her.
In that case, one stone of dried meat must weigh roughly 100 kilograms… Elizabeth calculated rapidly in her head before immediately asking:
“And what were the length and width of that single roll of linen?”
“It was exactly four knots long and one knot wide.” Seeing how incredibly invested the new Sharu was in the topic of textiles, Neria didn't wait for another question and began explaining in detail right away:
“The guards from the Fox Tribe use thick ropes braided from tough grass to measure goods. The ropes have evenly spaced knots tied along them, and the distance between one knot and the next corresponds roughly to one full stride of a grown warrior.”
“So the length is about four strides, which in standard measurements yields roughly 2 meters of fabric, with a width of barely 50 centimeters…” Elizabeth concluded aloud before literally falling silent for a moment in boundless astonishment.
For one miserable scrap of linen measuring two meters by half a meter, these forest people were willing to hand over a whopping three hundred kilograms of dried meat without batting an eye?!
Isn't that practically barbaric extortion?! she thought, a flash of predatory excitement sparking in her eyes.
It starkly demonstrates the astronomical profits a total monopoly on technology can generate in an ignorant world…
“It seems we will have to quietly and discreetly make an absolute fortune in the near future, without prematurely drawing the attention of those massive, predatory Tribes,” Elizabeth murmured quietly under her breath with a cold smile.
The current Blood Fire Tribe was still far too weak and decimated by war to openly challenge the giants. The only rational path forward was methodical, invisible economic development until the perfect moment arrived to reveal their might without fear.
“Sharu, what are your direct orders? What should we do now?” Neria repeated her earlier question.
The Totem Warriors couldn't sit idle in the tents; they urgently needed directives on whether to set out on a hunt or comb the ravines for rare beast bones for new rituals.
“The reserves of dried meat we still have - exactly how long will they last our tribe?” Elizabeth fixed her deep, piercing blue eyes on the pair of commanders standing before her.
Under that intense, icy gaze, Neria suddenly felt exceptionally uncomfortable. She had the strange, paralyzing sensation that this seemingly petite, twenty-year-old girl was effortlessly seeing right through every thought and laid her soul bare.
The Chief lowered her head for a moment, quickly calculated the state of the stores in her mind, and answered solemnly:
“If we restrict rations to the absolute minimum and eat very frugally, the entire tribe can survive on this meat for the next fourteen days.”
“Fourteen days… that is more than enough time to execute my plan.” Elizabeth let out a deep breath of relief, her delicate face instantly adopting an incredibly focused, commanding expression.
“Riven, in case of any unforeseen delays or sudden weather changes, assemble the entire hunting party immediately and set out on another hunt in the valley to secure our current needs.”
“Yes, Sharu!” Riven visibly squared his broad shoulders in relief, genuinely glad that he no longer had to stand idle in the shelter and finally had a concrete combat objective to execute.
In that same moment, Neria's stern expression shifted rapidly. Burning disbelief appeared in her eyes, and she hurriedly asked:
“Sharu… does this mean you actually have a concrete plan regarding this linen?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied with stoic calm, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“I know how to weave linen.”