Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: From Primitive Era Chieftain to Space Age Emperor
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The procession of wagons loaded with spoils crested the hills.
Beneath leather covers, dried leather straps, bones and horns, stone axes and shields, sacks of grain, and jerked meat were stacked in layers.
They had gathered the weapons and gear these people used because even these outdated tools could be recycled into something useful.
Though they would soon be replaced anyway.
Most welcome of all was the mammoth meat.
The weather hadn't fully warmed yet, and whether they understood salting or not, it had been preserved in salt, so there was no spoiled smell.
Before bringing it, they had added spices to turn it into jerky or smoke it, making it safer to eat.
The state of their food stores wasn't great; opening the sacks revealed grains mixed with dried husks and small stones.
They sifted it through makeshift sieves on the spot.
With nothing else to do while preparing the move, they made good use of the labor.
Supplementing with hunting and fishing here and there, they calculated they could get through the year without starving.
If the food had been scarcer than expected, they might have had to cull the tribe.
Depending on necessity, stripping them of everything and releasing about a thousand people—hardly humane, that.
The people of the Fertile Land Tribe, used to abundance, marveled at the novelty of wagons but were utterly overwhelmed upon arriving at the city, thrown into confusion by the sight.
Tall stone walls, brick houses, well-paved roads, countless buildings.
When the gates opened and they crossed the moat, some trembled and froze stiff.
"Houses made of stone!"
"Is that rock laid into the ground!?"
The Whirlwind Tribe folk laughed at the sight.
They looked at them like total country bumpkins.
The red-haired ones, barely integrated, were acting the same way—it seemed humans really didn't think much about the old days.
As they entered the city center, they fell even quieter.
Drainage ditches the wagons crossed, well troughs, shoulder-high railings, the neat order of a planned city.
Civilization beyond imagining from hut life—it must have felt like another world.
Our tribe cheered their victory in war, while the Spirit faith prepared grand religious ceremonies.
Red Mane polishing the censer and assembling the altar looked no amateur.
In the now-cramped central plaza, I issued commands.
"Build your homes first."
"We get to live in places like this!?"
"Of course."
"What is this place...?"
"Where the Spirits dwell!"
"Spirits...?"
Soon the red-hairs swarmed, starting their evangelism(?).
All this civilization began with me.
My immortal, undying body, killing mammoths and tigers barehanded.
Tales escalating to mythic heights.
Even claiming I rode clouds down from the heavens—no urge to correct them.
Rode clouds from the sky?
It evoked the Dangun myth, which actually pleased me.
More plausible than hatching from an egg, too.
I gathered the civil officials.
The military ones were too swamped to summon.
Managing the newly integrated tribes, emerging security issues, training recruits, hunting.
No time to breathe.
I started with manpower allocation reports.
"First, put them on simple labor."
Black Stone's opinion, which everyone agreed with.
Nearly three thousand workers, utterly lacking skills.
More precisely, our tribe monopolized skills transcending eras.
The new laborers were assigned to city construction, field development, and wall-building.
All massive undertakings, but with the numbers, it seemed feasible without strain.
Yellow Hand recorded it all on stone tablets.
He divided the new workers into three main groups, further subdividing them.
Yellow Hand, showing calligrapher's talent, carved letters with sharp tools.
1. City construction: drainage ditches, road-building, wells.
2. Field development: staking boundaries, digging furrows, supporting compost test plots.
3. Wall construction: foundation tamping, earth piling, brick hauling, lime transport.
Bonus: material transport teams.
Each task was pure grunt work, but with pulley research underway, labor conditions should improve soon.
Besides that.
The civil officials promised to quickly identify the newcomers' talents and assign them appropriately.
They'd be busy with that for a while.
Population: six thousand.
A bit short of target, but enough for a true agrarian society.
But first, beasts to replace draft animals.
For that, I summoned Eagle's Eye.
"Chieftain! You called?"
"To expand fields manyfold, we need bison."
"You did say as much."
"Can you catch them?"
"We'll try."
Was he underestimating it?
Bison might be slower than horses, but their sheer bulk.
Buffalo-level physique—catching them would be grueling.
Eagle's Eye seemed to read my mind.
"Chieftain, don't worry. We have nets and weapons aplenty."
"Catching's hard, but taming will be the real ordeal."
"Huh? What do you mean? We tamed wolves."
"..."
"Animals are tamed by beating them into submission."
My brain buffered for a split second.
Weren't wolves beasts tamed by beatings?
Then I recalled how they tamed and rode horses.
They claimed bonding mattered more for horses, but these era-tough men solved everything with violence.
And it worked, so even I had to let livestock handling slide.
I had to admit Eagle's Eye outclassed me in domesticating livestock or useful beasts.
'Swift Wind,' former chieftain of the Fertile Land Tribe, was shunned even by his own kin.
The moment he begged for his life, his authority vanished.
But that was fine.
He was alive.
Alive, opportunity to rise high would come someday.
Upon arriving at Whirlwind Tribe, he was overwhelmed by novelties, especially losing his mind over advanced farming.
Mysterious tools, capturing horses to replace manpower.
Precisely divided fields, drainage channels, etc.
Techniques impossible to match.
So they laughed when he spoke of agriculture.
But.
He had an ace up his sleeve.
He gained farming knowledge absorbing a small tribe once.
That minor plains tribe experimented with 'farming,' selecting sturdy seeds at harvest for next year's planting, yielding stronger plants.
He learned it from them, experiencing thicker grains than wild barley or wheat.
Last year.
Left alone, that subtribe might have boomed, but it got absorbed first.
"This might prove useful."
Not knowing the exact term, he vaguely grasped 'improvement.'
No way to compete elsewhere, so he planned to offer this to the chieftain for a shot at survival.
Explosive growth.
Civil officials fretted over newbies' mistakes, but to me, it was normal.
How could anyone excel from the start?
Even those barking orders now were hopeless amateurs once.
Labor ran a bit haphazardly, but officials began implanting systems.
Groups of ten electing foremen, ten foremen forming a 'unit,' etc.
Arabic numerals proved handy here.
They introduced measurements via numerals(?).
Unthinkable.
Half of city-building is civil engineering; non-standard measures wreck it.
Even medieval regions varied wildly—even neighborhoods differed, causing chaos.
Black Stone crafted standard rulers using my metric concepts.
Terms were tough at first, but once adapted, nothing simpler.
Decimal and Arabic numerals hinted at advancing math.
Falling into primitive times daily showed: lacking opportunity, not intelligence—these people matched moderns.
Meaning, provide the spark, and boom.
Amid ongoing marvels, neglected Swift Wind approached.
The one who begged and lived.
"Swift Wind, found a place for your skills?"
"Yes!"
"Sounds confident."
"I could farm here because I absorbed a tribe."
I heard something startling from Swift Wind.
Absorbed a small farming tribe, acquired superior seeds.
After, long research led to major success last year.
First triumph, confident in more, so he waged conquest.
Foolish long-term by modern lights, but normal by era logic.
Farming dawned not sudden epiphany, but trial and error like this.
Neolithic start fit the timeline.
Anyway.
Amazed Swift Wind grasped 'improvement.'
What if I taught selective breeding, improvement's classic method?
"Glad you found your role. We'll support you fully!"
The Whirlwind Tribe acquired one lifetime agricultural researcher (slave).