Battered sleds arrived amid a morning snowstorm—the second batch of pelts from the villages. Snoutlings rushed in and out of warehouses below, crying out numbers as Grommo took notes. I watched from the palace, biting my nails despite myself.
We were just starting to stockpile Rurik’s tribute, but thirty thousand was insane.
Grommo climbed the hill and wiped his forehead beside me. “Bad news, Chieftain...”
“Did we lose pelts again?”
He nodded. “Nearly one-third on the way, and word just arrived that one of the caravans got lost and was forced to turn back with the sleds.”
I swallowed. “We’ll have to build those roads now, otherwise we’re never going to meet the quota.”
“Any idea how? Dirt paths only survive inside the city.”
“In the worst-case scenario, I’ll use magic.”
“Won’t that leave you empty for our campaigns…? With all due respect, Chieftain.”
Maintaining magical ice roads year-round would indeed drain me. Grommo seemed frighteningly aware of my limitations now.
“I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”
“As you wish, Chieftain.” He went back to work.
Cobblestones like those back in Vesmeria were impossible since stone was scarce around Nordrstjarna. Imagining my palace crumbling under a mined hill made me purse my lips.
“Cobblesnow…?”
I went down to the quarry and took a smaller brick.
A sled packed with furs was heavy.
I glanced around to make sure nobody was watching. The miners’ houses were quiet, smoke rising from their roofs.
“Let’s try...” I put the brick on the ground and stomped on it.
Too soft.
I hyped myself up for the job and jumped on it again and again. “Die, die, die!”
Quite cathartic.
The brick cracked and came apart under my feet. Loose snow poured between my fingers as I grabbed a handful from the ground. “It won’t hold…”
But the snow beneath all the mess was compact; it barely twitched as I kicked it.
I threw my tangled-up hair back with a smile. “This works—”
“Chieftain…?”
I froze.
“Is the Chieftain alright?” another Snoutling whispered as miners gathered around their houses, staring at me with worried looks.
Were they taking a break…?
“I was just… just…” I laughed nervously. “Roads and stuff.”
They exchanged glances. “Road in quarry?”
I tossed the snow aside and scurried back to the palace. “Never mind...”
Regardless, now I had an idea of what to do. The household listened attentively as I laid down my list of requirements from my seat.
“A heavy roller!”
For this, we would need the biggest log we could find and a towing frame, then attach the whole apparatus to Predslava.
She chuckled.
“Tall poles!”
These would mark the way so travelers could follow.
“A full-time maintenance crew!”
The roads would need to remain usable year-round. This crew could also double as janitors for our own streets and buildings. Their pay would come from the turnip tax I enacted, which the trappers no longer depended upon.
The household staff nodded approvingly and scrambled to work.
Grommo knelt beside my chair. “O most sage Chieftain, thine ideas are like twin wells of prophecy, wherein the fates of lesser men lie drowned—”
Predslava slammed against his face in her ball form. “Cut the crap and get to work!”
I ran off to oversee the project.
Sleds filled with turnips and fish left the city. Others returned with meat, leather for internal use, and bones. Janitors inspected the snow-packed roads that blossomed out of Nordrstjarna like five slithering fingers. Someone had turned their neighborhood into a bazaar—leather canopies arched between houses and crude stalls.
A group of ten young Snoutlings entered my hall—my old students. A female one stepped ahead of the crowd, stubbier than the rest and easy to anger.
I remembered I had promised to send them to Bjornhavn to trade pelts.
“I’m sorry, everyone, but we don’t have pelts to spare as I’d hoped,” I said.
“That’s not a problem,” Umma said. “We stockpiled our own goods.”
My left eyebrow arched. “We…?”
“Our guild.” She waved at the Snoutlings around her. “We’d like permission to go to Bjornhavn, now that the road network is connected to the mountain pass.”
They nodded.
That’s a surprise…
The bazaar came to mind. Now I had an idea of who was behind it.
The household staff scratched their heads nervously, clearly wanting to protest.
She glanced at them and smirked. “You seem busy enough, teach—I mean, Chieftain.”
I sighed in relief.
Aside from the occasional fun megaproject, most of my duties as chieftain were much more mundane: taking oaths of allegiance from immigrants, settling property disputes, etc. My household staff and personal guard helped, but the issues always ended up on my lap one way or another.
“Good luck,” I said and went back to work as they left.
Two weeks later.
I stood up to welcome yet another tribe when a breathless Snoutling scrambled inside the palace. “Umma? That was fast.”
She rested her hands on her knees, panting. “They did us dirty, Chieftain.”
“Who did?”
“The harpies in Bjornhavn. And I think the humans are in on the scheme.”
“You’ll have to give me more details than this,” I said.
Umma straightened up. “We set up shop and even rented a warehouse, but those crooks took our goods—the harpies have some stupid monopoly on fish we didn’t know of.”
“Fish?” I frowned. “Everyone sells fish.”
“Not in Bjornhavn, apparently,” she said bitterly.
“I see.” I held my chin. “And the humans are complicit, you say?”
Predslava bounced up and down beside me. “Assemble the army, Katarina! Let’s show these merchants who’s the boss!”
Grommo crossed his arms. “As much as it pains me to agree with the furball, how hard can it be to conquer a town half the size of Nordrstjarna? They don’t even have walls—”
The hall erupted in cheers. These guys were developing a sweet tooth for violence, which worried me.
We could indeed invade Bjornhavn with our levy, nearly a thousand-strong now, but I wanted to exhaust every legitimate option on the table first.
“Wait.” They quieted down as I lifted my hand. “Are you sure about that, Umma?”
“Honestly…” She lowered her head. “Not really. I was just pissed that nobody did anything to stop the harpies.”
“That changes things a bit.”
She looked up at me, worried. “But they seized everything. We can’t recoup the losses.”
“I didn’t say we weren’t going to do anything. I’m going to Bjornhavn.”
“Aw… Katarina the peddler?” Predslava rolled on her back like a dead raccoon. “I hate going donkey.”
“No. Tell my personal guard to get ready and bear up.” I grabbed my staff. “The chieftain will have a word with the merchants of Bjornhavn.”