The radical faction of young and middle-aged War Pigs had been slaughtered to the last.
Overnight, a terrible shadow of hatred descended upon the War Pig tribe.
Unfortunately, the Saintess did not care.
The next day, before the two armies.
A negotiation table was set between them.
A negotiation even more humiliating and unequal was about to begin.
With the radical youth dead, it was now the turn of the War Pig elders to be held accountable.
[According to the Negotiation Treaty: First, the 127 individuals led by Chief Baccus shall retire immediately. Their families shall relocate to Atester City. Saintess Aililan guarantees their livelihood and safety, granting them the treatment of Atester citizens.]
[Second, trade with humans will no longer be controlled by the War Pig chieftaincy. It will be changed to designated trade partners appointed by humans.]
[Third, Atester shall establish a Beastkin Academy. Eligible children, including but not limited to those from the War Pig tribe, may enroll.]
[Fourth, for inciting conflict and causing significant human losses, the War Pigs must pay reparations: one Gold Sand River, one silver mine, one hundred thousand head of cattle, one hundred thousand sheep, twenty thousand mules, and ten thousand warhorses. To be paid over five years.]
[Fifth, the territory south of the War Pig domain, up to one-third of Bitgel’s land, shall be designated as autonomous territory for the Winged People. Of the thirteen beastkin tribes subordinate to the War Pigs, the Elk, Wasteland Bulls, Rat, and Antelope tribes shall be placed under the governance of the Winged People.]
The expressions on the War Pig side were extremely grim.
Was this a negotiation? It was clearly dismembering the War Pigs!
The first clause made the elders dare not resist.
The second clause would turn the new generation into compradors dependent on humans.
The third clause shook the very foundation of beastkin culture.
The fourth clause ensured they could not recover for five years.
The fifth clause, by dividing the subordinate tribes among the Winged People—especially the Wasteland Bulls, who had a deep-seated grudge with the War Pigs—planted seeds of future trouble.
“S-Saintess…” Cyril’s throat was tight, his voice hoarse.
Before he could finish, Aililan waved her hand impatiently.
“I know what you want to say. I permit you to refuse.”
“But you should also understand—after defeating you, I could easily present an even harsher treaty.”
“However… a treaty like this… we truly cannot sign it. Once we sign, we become the sinners of the War Pig tribe.”
“Nonsense.”
Aililan said coldly:
“Don’t forget what you were like back then—the entire tribe gnawing on roots.”
“I gave you warmth and fullness, allowed you to dominate the Southern Plains, to conquer thirteen beastkin tribes.”
“And the result? Instead of repaying the kindness, you incited war?”
She took a deep breath.
“The disgrace you feel now is an opportunity countless other beastkin tribes dream of.”
“You won’t sign?”
“There are plenty who would.”
“The Wasteland Bulls, perhaps?”
“Or why don’t you go ask those thirteen subordinate tribes if anyone is willing to replace you?”
The faces of the War Pig leadership changed drastically.
They knew perfectly well—even the worst outcome here was better than gnawing roots back then.
Cyril let out a long sigh. “We… will sign.”
Subsequently, all the War Pig leaders signed the agreement.
Immediately after, military authority was completely confiscated. All War Pig armies were disarmed, their weapons gathered and placed under unified guard.
They would only be gradually released as the treaty was implemented step by step, such as after the leaders’ families had relocated to Atester.
Naris became the new War Pig Chief.
She looked at Aililan, her expression complex—filled with guilt, anger, and a deeply hidden trace of coldness.
“Naris, do you hate me?”
“Reporting to the Saintess, I would not dare.”
“I don’t need to explain anything to you.”
“You only need to know that everything stems from greed and betrayal. If you make a mistake, you must pay the price.”
“I understand.”
“Go back and govern the War Pigs well. Also—I have a clear conscience.”
“Saintess… I have one more question.”
“Speak.”
“Where exactly are you taking the War Pig tribe?”
Aililan pondered for a moment, her tone calm.
“If the situation in the south proceeds smoothly, the Jackal Tribe will establish their own nation within a year.”
“And I will also support the War Pigs in establishing a nation.”
“Naris—Queen.”
Naris’s pupils contracted sharply.
After a long while, she sighed softly and turned to leave.
There was still much to handle next.
Such as the Winged People, the Elves, and—the dissatisfied Jackals.
The issue with the Winged People was actually simpler.
As long as the War Pigs existed, they would bear the stigma of being “traitors.” In such a situation, with a little guidance, they would become even more dependent on humans.
“The Elk tribe… also known as the half-deer people.”
“Perhaps they could be developed into a military unit similar to centaurs. Although their stamina may not match centaurs, they excel in agility, suitable for mountain and forest warfare.”
Aililan suddenly murmured softly:
“Jungle cavalry?”
Before the beastkin were driven to the plains—
Antelope archers could rival Elven longbowmen, and half-deer cavalry were renowned far and wide.
They could raid through towering mountains and ridges, easily crossing streams and treacherous terrain.
When large armies were blocked by mountains, these cavalry could traverse them as if on level ground.
It was only after losing their terrain advantage that these tribes gradually declined.
Aililan’s expression turned subtle.
‘My military unit composition seems to be getting more and more complex.’
A few days later, the Elven Elder came to bid farewell, beaming with delight.
“Saintess, it is time for us to depart.”
“Didn’t you occupy quite a bit of territory? Don’t you want it?”
The Elven Elder laughed. “You jest, Saintess. We Elves love forests; we have no interest in plains.”
“Gained quite a bit, didn’t you?”
“Just a little.”
Aililan showed a meaningful smile.
Over a thousand cartloads of furs, bags of gemstones, tens of thousands of cattle and sheep—this was “just a little”?
But she didn’t mind.
If she didn’t give them some sweetness, who would be willing to exert effort for her in the future?
And these resources would ultimately return to her hands through trade.
Another day passed.
Jackal Tribe Chief Hucli came looking displeased.
“Saintess, this isn’t fair. You promised we could plunder the War Pigs, but we ended up with nothing.”
Aililan didn’t even look up, continuing to review documents.
“We fought from south to north, completely annihilating the War Pig southern front army.”
“And you? Fifty thousand against thirty thousand, and you got counterattacked and routed?”
“Putting in no real effort.”
“It’s already good that I haven’t held you accountable.”
“And you still have the nerve to come asking for an explanation?”
Hucli’s face flushed red.
The next moment, a document was tossed into his hands.
“You get fifty thousand sheep. The mining rights for the silver mine and the Gold Sand River are also temporarily yours.”
“But not for you to enjoy.”
“Use these resources to purchase city-building materials from humans.”
“I want you to build a city within a year.”
“If you’re short on manpower, go north and capture beastkin slaves.”
“Build a city?”
“For what?”
Aililan looked up, speaking plainly.
“To establish a nation.”
“To let your Jackal Tribe found a nation.”
“What do you think, Hucli—King?”
Hucli’s breath caught.
There was a time when he was still worrying about his tribe’s next meal.
And now—
Found a nation?
King Hucli.
That title made his heart pound wildly.