Within the Crimson Star Tribe – Beside the Blast Furnace
Brian approached with a stone hammer in hand. "Lord Priest, the furnace has cooled. We can begin retrieving the pottery."
Enzo took the tool and cracked open the sealed kiln wall. A plume of ash and warm air spilled out as the interior was revealed.
Most of the pottery inside was imperfect—cracked, lopsided, or misshapen. But a few had survived the fire. One in particular caught Enzo's eye: a wide basin, about thirty centimeters across, smooth and symmetrical, adorned with simple but elegant patterns along the rim.
Brian beamed. "That one was mine."
Enzo raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. He had expected Brian's talent to lie in weaponry, but clearly, he had an artisan's touch as well. Appointing him to manage the industrial area had been the right call.
"Brian," Enzo said, "from now on, gather a team to fire pottery inside a cave. Focus on making basins like this—strong, wide, practical. Also, don't throw out the failed pieces. Grind them into powder and mix with fresh clay. It'll improve quality over time."
Brian nodded with clear excitement, already mentally assembling his team.
After that, Enzo left the remaining furnaces for the other tribe members to open themselves. Tia, Amy, and dozens of others rushed forward with wide eyes, excited to see the results of their work. Chatter and laughter filled the air.
A Moment of Calm
With the crowd buzzing over the pottery, Enzo finally had a moment to himself.
Clara approached quietly, her gaze fixed on the basin in his hands. "These are... real pottery? They're no different from what I've seen from traveling merchants. Maybe even better."
"You've met merchants?" Enzo asked, intrigued.
"Now and then," Clara said. "I spent a lot of time outside the tribe. I've seen more than most."
They found a quiet place to sit and talk. As Clara spoke, Enzo busied himself preparing a small meal. He used his dagger to peel and slice a potato, tossing the pieces into a pottery pot over a flame, adding water to boil.
Clara's storytelling came in bursts, her attention occasionally drifting to the gleaming dagger in his hand. It was sleek, sharp—far superior to the crude weapons she'd seen before.
"You like it?" Enzo asked knowingly.
Clara blinked. "I saw a blade like that once, among a merchant's goods. Not nearly as fine as this, though. Still, it cost fifty Gold Leaves."
"Gold Leaves?" Enzo asked.
Clara looked puzzled. "You've never heard of them?"
Enzo shook his head, and Clara explained.
"They're currency. Issued by the Gold Oak Tribe—one of the great tribes in the Barren Mountain. That tribe's massive—tens of thousands strong, supposedly blessed with the totemic fire. No one dares cross them. Their priest can sense when a member dies… so they say."
The name lingered in Enzo's thoughts: Barren Mountain. Gold Oak Tribe.
"How large is this 'Barren Mountain'?" he asked.
Clara gave a wry smile. "I don't know. I've climbed the highest peaks I could find, and from up there, the land just keeps going. Farther than the eye can see."
She'd once traveled over two thousand kilometers to reach the Gold Oak's territory in search of ironware—but failed to secure any. And yet, even that long journey had only scratched the surface of the world.
The scale of it all humbled Enzo. The Crimson Star Tribe, in its infancy, was just a speck in a vast, untamed world.
Steam Rose From the Pot
The water bubbled. Enzo carved two slender branches into skewers, speared the soft chunks of potato, and handed one to Clara.
She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.
"This tastes… surprisingly good."
"It'd be better with salt," Enzo muttered.
Clara raised an eyebrow, reached into a hidden fold of her animal hide garment, and pulled out a small leaf-wrapped pouch. She opened it to reveal coarse yellow salt crystals.
Enzo stared in disbelief. "Where were you hiding that?"
Clara smirked. "Concealment is part of survival. You think weapons are the only things you can hide?"
She sprinkled a pinch into the pot and explained, "I got this as a reward from Crue, after killing a black-striped python—eight meters long. Crue keeps a decent stash of salt. If you want some, I might be able to bring it back."
"We'll see," Enzo said.
Tia and Amy Arrive
The smell of cooked potatoes drew them in like moths to flame.
Both girls eyed the pot eagerly until Enzo gave them a nod. Then they rushed forward to grab their share, burning their tongues in their impatience.
Clara chuckled. "Lucky little ones."
"I'm not little!" Tia protested, puffing up with pride. "And I beat you, remember? Show some respect."
Clara smirked. "I'm still the combat instructor."
Tia's mood immediately soured. As captain, she had to attend training—and Clara had full control over the intensity. If she wanted to make things hard for Tia…
Would Enzo think she was unfit to lead the team?
Tia grew quiet. Clara grinned. Psychological tactics like these weren't just for teasing—they were part of real battle. Get in someone's head, and you could break them before the fight even began.
The Tribe in Motion
All around them, the tribe buzzed with purpose.
Brian was overseeing the digging of structured pottery kilns, with proper air vents beneath for charcoal feeding.
Sovita had taken charge of agriculture, supervising the digging of a pond and redirecting stream water to irrigate the fields.
Ward led construction, organizing timber gathering and pen-building for the captured wild animals.
The hunting team had already departed, disappearing into the forest beyond the hills.
Everyone had a task. For the first time, the tribe felt alive with coordinated energy.
Clara's gaze swept across it all, and she felt a warmth bloom in her chest. This wasn't just survival. It was progress. She'd never seen such unity in the Chagga Tribe.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Enzo's voice.
"Lie down," he said simply. "You're not healed yet. I don't want our new instructor dropping dead from strain."
Clara blinked, then smirked, and stretched out on the soft grass.
Enzo's hand pressed gently against her stomach. A soft green light pulsed from his palm—the divine art, Stimulate All Things, at work once more.
And as the healing power sank into her flesh, Clara felt a calm settle over her. Not just from the magic—but from something deeper.
Maybe this tribe really is different, she thought.
Maybe this was the beginning of something far greater than survival.