The next day went in a blur. The building continued. The first two longhouses were finished in the evening. However, despite the satisfaction from a job well done, Horn wasn’t too excited. The hunger set on the clan - the foraging and hunting didn’t bring enough food to feed everyone. Even with Ingrid’s people leaving early in the morning, there were too many mouths to feed. He had one choice and tried to supplement the diet with the livestock summoned out of the Soul Well, but after getting fifty animals, the option grayed out, and a countdown of two weeks began.

Thankfully, he went for bigger animals, but even rationing them – five hundred hungry dwarves could go through them in a day or two. The announcement of rationing was met with grumbling and booing. Most of his people seemed to understand the situation, but there were always a few that didn’t care. And these few just kept complaining and gaining audience quickly. It was easy to forget all the good things when you were hungry.

He couldn’t fault them, but he just wished to have a bit more time. The first field was already tilled, ready to get seeds in it. They had stocks ready from the tutorial, but the plants would need weeks, if not months, to mature. He had to find a reliable food source or his dreams of rebuilding the clan would quickly perish.

The scouts were heading farther and farther from the base, but nothing exciting was reported so far. Behind the other pass, two biomes connected. South-east a large over the horizon swamps, with the odor of rotting vegetation spreading up to the pass with an evening wind. To the northeast, a sea of grass spread as far as anyone could see. Ingrid called it - Green Ocean - as the plants were almost shoulder high for his dwarves.

Sadly neither of the zones had an easy food source. Swamps had plenty of mushrooms, but most of them were mildly poisonous. The grass was empty inside, like reeds or bamboo shoots. It could be eaten but provided almost no nourishment. However, his gatherers told him that it would do for a good fertilizer if adequately prepared.

There was quite a bounty of edible plants and small game in the valley itself, but not even close to feeding the whole clan. Herrak’s adventurers, as he summoned thirty of them, spread through the valley looking for its treasures but so far were unsuccessful. On the positive note, his miners found the caved-in entrance to an old mine and worked tirelessly to open it up. No one had any idea what they could discover inside, but they were hopeful. Similarly, the excavation of the massive tunnel leading into the mountain from the plateau was slowly progressing. However, neither of these helped with food in any way.

With these gloomy thoughts, Horn finally took a look at his morale interface. A slew of messages appeared, from losses in the challenge, which lowered both morale and loyalty, through the heroic charge to save their kin escaping from the undead army, which raised the bar a bit. Then arrival in the Nexus, the remembrance ceremony also upped the score. But after that, it was just downhill. Pledging of his champions was taken negatively, not too much but still. Allowing the dawn riders to join created a deep dive. Morale went down to Devastated (-50), while loyalty dived into Rebellious(-75). Horn’s eyes almost popped out, seeing these numbers. He didn’t expect such effect, not to that scale at least. However, thankfully, finding home raised it back to manageable levels, while summoning their lost kin moved it into a small happiness bonus.

However, then came the downtrend. With a lack of proper housing, rationing the food, and squabbles over the Dawn Riders, it finally ended at Unhappy (-20) and Unsure (-15). This might not be the end of the world, but it was worrisome. The description told Horn that his people were likely to slack a bit and weren’t sure to follow him if it would directly endanger them or their loved ones.

He knew that these were teething problems of a rising clan, but it still was annoying. He wished he could do more, but there was just too much to do and too little to do it with. They should be up and running in a few weeks – if he could solve the food issue. He knew that if there wasn’t enough in the valley, they had to look outside. The Dark Forest, where they appeared, was probably the safest bet. However, the distance was significant. Even if they would take only the riders out there, it was a two-day trip one way. Add hunting and gathering, coming back, and it wasn’t worth the time.

Sighing, Horn returned to reading through the Mind attribute book. He was almost done with it. Despite being quite lengthy, he enjoyed it. It told about exercising his brain, riddles, puzzles, at first, simple but getting more complicated with each page. It soon added movements to the games and speaking in specific intonation. Step by step, he got more used to strange routines and quickly noticed it helped with his spells. Each evening, since arriving in the Nexus, he spent an hour reading and another hour training his abilities. The gains slowed after the first rush, but he still progressed. Movements became easier, his voice more robust, and his magic seemed stronger.

Sigrid’s voice interrupted his training, “Horn, we have a problem.”

He raised his head with a questioning look. She took the hint and continued, “There was an accident. The herders counted heads in the evening and found one of the cows missing. I’ve investigated and found the carcass. It was amateurishly butchered. I’ve followed the tracks, but they ended in the main camp. There’s too many of us in here to find the culprit.”

“Shit.” He muttered, “I guess the hunger is already taking its toll. What do you suggest?”

“We should find him or her and make an example.”

Horn banged his fingers on the book cover. A witch hunt would only drive a wedge into the already fragile clan. He felt his usual anger boiling at the culprit but understood it would only worsen the situation. “Tell Goran to post guards at our food supplies and to accompany the herds. I don’t want to see another one missing. Otherwise, we’ll let it slide. We cannot afford the drama now. You can keep looking into that, but no action without my consent.”

Sigrid winced and replied in a flat voice, “Yes, Chieftain.”

For a moment, Horn wanted to comment on that but decided against it. He picked his book, for a while, he tried, but the mood was gone. He stood and took a walk around the emerging settlement.

“It was so much simpler in the tutorial. From one challenge towards another. Now the possibilities seem limitless, yet so darn hard to make.”

Walking around the sleeping camp, he noticed a group of his dwarves still working at the smithy. Seeing them, an old quote his father told him once came to mind,

The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they while their companions slept were toiling upward in the night.

He couldn’t remember the author, but it was so fitting. “I’ll make it. Whatever they throw at me, I’ll build something worth remembering here.” Horn raised his head. He sat down back at his spot and picked up the book again. It would be a long night.

Messenger interrupted him as he was putting another cut stone on the cart. Horn was working since early morning, side by side with his people. As he didn’t have the skills necessary to do anything more helpful, he assisted with hauling.

“Chieftain,” A dwarf approached and saluted, “Goran asks for you. The scouts found something.”

“I’ll be right there,” Horn replied, then addressed the others around him, “Let’s load the last one, on three.”

A few minutes later, he was with Goran, listening to the report, “… thirty miles. The herd is supposed to be at least a thousand strong, but we’re not the only ones observing it. Our outriders saw horsemen around.”

“It doesn’t matter, we need them, and we need it now. I want a full hunting party with every single wagon available ready to set out in three hours. Get word to Ingrid. We need her riders and whomever she can spare. A herd of buffalos so large won’t stay in one place for long. We need to make haste.” Horn replied, “Send back the rider, pass the message. Don’t engage other tribes unless fired upon!”

“Yes, Chieftain.” Goran acknowledged but then added, “We need more fighters to provide security. If they’re hostile, we can face a whole clan.”

“I’ll summon fifty warriors. You’ll lead the caravan and put them through paces. I’ll take the rest of our riders and Ingrid. Maybe she’ll know how to herd them closer, or at least we’ll be in a position to see the horsemen. Maybe they were just passing by?” Horn said, but deep down he was sure it wasn’t a coincidence.

A few hours later, he was riding on Snouty. With dozen of his warriors on their own Warboars. Behind them were two dozen wagons, with almost eighty of his people rolled down the main ramp. In the distance, he could see a large column heading out of Ingrid’s fort.

It was time to hunt.

A day later, Horn was lying in the tall grass, watching an extraordinary view. A massive herd of what he could only identify as buffalos were grazing peacefully. They covered almost all horizon, with bulls on the outskirts and cows with young corralled in. The animals were even similarly sized to their Earthen kin. Easily twice or even thrice the size of any of his men. For a moment, he forgot about being a dwarf and took a role of a cowboy.

However, his good mood was quickly dissipating, as on the other side of the plain. Several columns of smoke were visible. His scout earlier confirmed that there was a whole camp of humans out there. His own forces were at least a day behind them. He had only his twelve riders and another two dozen heavily armored Ingrid’s Valkyries.

“So, what do you think?” He asked Ingrid, who was crawling next to him.

“Half a year's worth of rations at worst. Enough to get by until the first crops mature.” Ingrid replied,

“And our guests?”

“They’re probably here for the same reasons. The herd is big enough for both of us, pumpkin.”

That simple answer perplexed him. In all honesty, he never considered that option. Maybe it was always fighting against every challenge, or perhaps it was his gaming days - where another tribe was always an enemy, but the simple thought of working together was ingenious!

“Do we have anyone knowing trade language?”

Ingrid measured him with astonishment, “Pumpkin, you want to tell me you don’t know it? I really wonder how you are still alive.”

“Oh, cut it. I’ll learn someday. I can’t exceed your expectations, can I? You’d have to reconsider my slowness if I did.” He snickered,

“That’s true. A women have to have some constants in the world.” She chuckled, then added, “I can translate.”

“Then let’s meet our neighbors. We’ll bring a dozen each with us. We shouldn’t ride with fifty warriors on a diplomatic mission.”

“You’d be surprised, pumpkin; how many do.” She replied, crawling back toward their own camp.

They circled the herd, avoiding scaring it away. As they closed the distance, Horn heard something worrisome. At first, the sounds coming from the distance seemed normal, but the closer they got, the more he was sure there was a fight going on. When a scream of pain echoed through the plain, he exchanged looks with Ingrid before shouting. “Onwards, there’s trouble ahead!”

His group sped up, going from a slow trot into a gallop. They crossed the last hill and saw a battle. Below them, a large clean camp with lined up tents, a collar for animals, even a dedicated workspace, was ravaged by a horde of Gnolls.

The humanoid hyenas broke through a thin line of defenders in several places and were slaughtering the civilians hiding in the camp. A hundred yards away, a pitiful line of human warriors held off the main horde. They were holding, but there were significant gaps in their ranks, and the grass was soaked with blood.

Horn was sure the people would be overrun shortly. The Gnolls were a head taller than most defenders, with a bulk of muscles behind them seemed more capable, and there was more of them. He paused for a second, wondering if they should get involved, but quickly decided and shouted, “Riders help the main battle line! Lightforge on me!”

He saw Ingrid about to protest in the corner of his eye, but she closed her lips and raised her trident. A shout came out, “Unto the Dawn!”

His dwarves were already hot on his heels. They charged down the hill toward the Gnolls in the camp. As they rode, he buffed his group. First, with Blessing of the Might, then with Inner Fire, and finally added Blessed Weapons on top of that. Half the distance toward the combat, he felt his Leadership bonuses kick in and realized he was eager to start the fight. The past few days of peaceful life were good, but the adrenaline kicking in was something else. He imagined a painting of himself and his warriors charging down the hill, with their weapons shining with the golden hue. A wicked smile appeared on his lips. This was the whole reason for this game. With a conviction, he shouted, “Lightforge!”