Sarin and the Lizardmen Tribe

"Young Master, have you managed to subdue all three sand people settlements?" The elderly butler, Horden, had just returned to the territory. Seeing that Haotian had summoned the entire Royal Knight regiment back, he assumed another war was brewing.

Haotian nodded with a smile. "Yes, with the sand people, our territory will have a steady influx of basic resources daily. No need for the Royal Knights to do such work anymore."

Horden glanced at the sand people setting up tents in the distance. "They seem rather frail."

"It's not a big issue," Haotian reassured. "It's mainly due to malnutrition. We have plenty of magical beast meat in our reserves, which will help them regain their strength quickly."

Horden nodded in agreement. Magical beast meat was a delicacy in the Kingdom of Stanlow, affordable only to the elite. The sand people were indeed fortunate to have access to it in such abundance, thanks to Haotian.

Haotian continued, "Now that the sand people are settled, I plan to send the Royal Knights out for another hunt, lasting through the night."

"But, Young Master," Horden interjected, "I should stay behind to ensure the sand people don't cause any trouble."

"There's no need to worry," Haotian said, smiling. "You seem to forget that I am a Divine Envoy. The loyalty of these sand people to me now is as strong as that of our family's most dedicated retainers."

Horden was taken aback. Could his young master truly command such loyalty? It explained the gnoll's unwavering obedience.

Horden pondered for a moment before saying, "In that case, I'll join the hunt. I'm close to advancing to a level nine mage."

He had no choice but to strive harder. Since returning from the Blackwind Tribe last night, he discovered that Haotian had leveled up again, now matching his own level eight. Given the speed at which Haotian was advancing, surpassing him seemed inevitable. Horden needed to keep pushing himself to avoid falling too far behind. He wanted to be able to support his young master in future battles against even stronger foes.

"Very well," Haotian nodded, then added, "but don't push yourself too hard. You're my butler; others can handle the fighting."

"I understand, Young Master," Horden replied before heading out with his magic staff.

After Horden left, Haotian summoned the three sand people leaders. He wanted to assess their resource situation.

The level five leader respectfully reported, "Honored Lord, we brought all our supplies. We have six hundred and thirty-nine deer and about fourteen thousand five hundred pounds of millet."

Millet, a staple for the sand people, wasn't actual rice but a hard, dry fruit from the desert, the size of a fingernail. It required steaming or roasting to remove toxins and become edible, tasting somewhat like chestnuts. The deer were not typically part of their diet but were usually tributes to the Blackwind Tribe, only eaten on special occasions. Day-to-day, they hunted smaller desert animals or low-level magical beasts.

Survival was their only concern, not enjoying life. Their meager food stores, spread across three settlements, were barely enough to sustain them.

"Where do you gather the millet? Do you grow it yourselves?" Haotian asked.

"It's a wild plant," one leader replied. "About thirty kilometers south, there's a large sandy forest with many millet trees. We sometimes graze and hunt there, but it's the territory of the lizardmen. They are very territorial and forbid anyone from approaching the central riverbed where resources are abundant."

Haotian's interest piqued. "What is the strength of these lizardmen?"

"We don't know," the leader admitted. "Any sand people who encounter them rarely survive. Even the gnolls of the Blackwind Tribe avoid them."

"Is that so?" Haotian mused. The Blackwind Tribe feared them, but he did not. He mentally marked the lizardmen as his next target, though it would wait. The hunt was time-sensitive, and he couldn't afford to be sidetracked.

After asking a few more questions, Haotian instructed the leaders, "Release the deer into the pasture. You no longer need to tend to them. Gather your people: some will quarry stone from the mountain, others will fell trees. Those unfit for these tasks will help build the settlement."

Haotian glanced at the makeshift tents rising in the distance. "For now, you will stay in these tents. When we have surplus wood, I'll build proper houses for you."

The tents, though warm, were unsightly and patched. Haotian planned to replace them eventually.

"Praise be to you, great Lord!" The leaders knelt again, overwhelmed with gratitude.

Haotian retrieved axes, knives, and swords from the warehouse, spoils from the gnolls, and distributed them to the leaders. Though of low quality, they were plentiful and now had a purpose.

Soon, the sand people set to work. Over two thousand strong, the more robust went to quarry stone, while others felled trees. Although cutting down trees pained them, they obeyed their Lord's orders.

Haotian cared only for the results. Watching his territory bustle with activity, he felt a swell of optimism for its future.