Way of Overlord
Chapter 132: Inexplicable Move

Chapter 132: Inexplicable Move

A wind of change is blowing in the Southern Great Steppe. A small wind had blown and a storm is forming

To the south, the Brolgadhr tribe had risen to prominence with a determination to carve its dominion across the lower western reaches of the Southern Great Steppe.

Their ascent to power promised a reconfiguration of power dynamics, their intentions to rule looming large on the landscape.

As their influence expanded, the tribes that once roamed those territories now found themselves facing an unavoidable reckoning.

To the north, the Utgard tribe, led by Chief Garron, embarked on an audacious campaign that echoed with the march of conquest.

Their expansion reached ever-upwards, a clear declaration of intent to dominate the upper northern expanses of the Southern Great Steppe.

The shadows of their approaching dominance fell upon the tribes within their grasp, leaving no doubt that their ambitions knew no bounds.

Yet, what proved to be a defining twist in the fate of the Korun tribe was the unexpected alliance that had intertwined the fates of these two formidable forces.

Aeryon, the young and dynamic leader of Brolgadhr, had cemented a familial bond with Garron, Chief of Utgard, through his marriage to Ayera, the daughter of the Viper.

This newfound unity sent tremors across the Steppe, a shift that redirected their collective energies.

As the alliance took root, its implications began to unfold.

Aeryon, now kin to Utgard’s chieftain, steered his focus toward the lower regions of the Southern Great Steppe, his sights set on consolidating his influence and dominance there.

The momentum of his progress is palpable, the echoes of his conquests reverberating across the land.

Meanwhile, Chief Garron of Utgard seized the opportunity presented by the alliance to push ever-northwards, expanding their grasp and subjugating tribes within their reach.

The orchestrated dance of their actions spoke of a calculated strategy, a shared vision between allies that promised to redraw the map of the Steppe itself.

Caught between these titans of ambition, the Korun tribe found themselves on the periphery of the unfolding drama.

While the winds of change howled with the force of these monumental shifts, the Korun tribe seemed to be relegated to the role of bystanders, dwarfed by the larger-than-life figures that now dominated their horizons.

As the Brolgadhr tribe surged southward and Utgard expanded north, the Korun tribe’s fate hung in the balance, an afterthought in the grand narrative of rising empires

the Korun tribe found itself in a unique position as the buffer between two formidable forces, the Brolgadhr tribe to the south and the Utgard tribe to the north.

This geographical placement, though seemingly incidental, carried immense significance and bore testament to a delicate understanding reached between the two powerful chiefs.

Recognizing the potential volatility that would arise if their territories were to border with each other and the inevitable clashes that might follow, Aeryon and Garron, leaders of Brolgadhr and Utgard respectively, seemingly arrived at a tacit understanding.

The implications of such a proximity between their expanding domains were not lost on them, and an unspoken accord appeared to have been reached: the Korun tribe would remain a neutral ground, a demilitarized zone that would help maintain peace between the two burgeoning tribe.

By refraining from encroaching upon the Korun tribe’s territory, both leaders were effectively preventing a situation where their own ambitions could collide head-on.

This strategic decision, underpinned by the knowledge that direct confrontation between their forces could escalate into a larger conflict, provided a measure of stability in an otherwise tumultuous period of change and expansion.

For the Korun tribe, this unintended role as a buffer brought with it a degree of respite, shielding them from the immediate consequences of the power struggles that is reshaping the area.

As the Brolgadhr tribe surged to the south and the Utgard tribe expanded to the north, the Korun tribe remained nestled between them, an oasis of relative calm in the storm of ambition and conquest.

Inside the spacious and warmly lit tent of the Korun tribe’s chief, Kyazan Son of Kurtai, a sense of anticipation hung in the air like a veil.

The tent itself stood as a symbol of authority and importance, its size and prominence reflecting the standing of the tribe leader.

Surrounding the chief tent is the dwellings of his closest kin, a close-knit cluster of tents housing family members, friends, and trusted advisors.

These tents formed a protective circle around the central hub of authority

Inside the chief’s tent, Kyazan sat in his chair, a mixture of weariness and determination etched on his aging features.

His once-dark hair now carried the weight of years, streaked with shades of grey and white.

Despite the passage of time, his physique retained a measure of vitality

Kyazan eyes, reflecting a lifetime of experiences, gazed out into the night, the winter wind howling against the tent walls.

He massaged his tired eyes, a momentary indulgence in a brief pause from his restless waiting.

The wrinkles on his weathered face spoke of countless stories, each line a mark of his journey as a leader.

As the night deepened, Kyazan resolve grows weaker.

He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, thoughts drifting as he fought against the temptation of slumber.

The weight of leadership rested on his shoulders, and duty kept him vigilant even as exhaustion tugged at him.

each time sleep almost beckons him over, he would shake his head, and try to remain awake.

He waited until midnight. No one in the tribe understand what he has been waiting.

But he tells his sons what he is waiting for.

And so, his sons had ridden their horses to get the thing that he wanted. He waited and he waited and time seems to pass slowly.

But he keeps his patience and as midnight struck, someone reported from the outside

a voice from outside the tent pierced the silence, announcing the arrival of the awaited visitor.

"Chief, Kyordai wanted to see you"

Kyazan weariness evaporated, replaced by renewed energy. He sprang to his feet, every trace of fatigue banished in an instant.

"Bring him in," Kyazan commanded, his voice carrying a blend of authority and anticipation.

The flap of the tent rustled as the visitor entered

As Kyordai entered the chief’s tent, his presence carried an air of vitality and strength. A young heroic man

His sturdy frame seemed almost moulded by the harsh environment of the Great Steppe, a product of resilience and endurance.

Adorned in the attire of a warrior, his red chest plate and spiked helmet spoke of readiness for battle, while the scars on his face told a tale of past conflicts and challenges.

The room is illuminated by the soft glow of a few oil lamps, casting flickering shadows across the interior of the tent.

Kyordai piercing gaze, framed by his thin facial hair, look at his son.

Out of all of his sons, he favours his Kyordai.

On his back there is his bow and arrow bag on his left hip

The bow, a faithful companion, is a testament to his prowess as an archer, a reputation that had earned him accolades among his tribe and neighbouring clans.

It is said that Kyordai skill with an arrow was unparalleled, capable of hitting targets at astonishing distances that seemed almost otherworldly.

With a sense of familiarity, Kyordai moved gracefully to sit before Kyazan, his every action exuding a certain confidence born of his position as the second son of the chief.

Among the tribes and surrounding clans, Kyordai name is synonymous with precision and accuracy, his reputation solidified by his exceptional archery skills.

The flap of the tent settled as Kyordai found his place, his eyes meeting Kyazan, a smile on his face

The moments that followed were pregnant with significance, as the torchlight danced across their faces, casting a solemn yet resolute atmosphere.

In the ambiance of the chief tent a tranquil pause lingered before the exchange between father and son commenced.

Kyazan voice sliced through the quietude.

"Tell me what had happened?"

The inquiry held an air of expectation, his eyes narrowed

"They won,"

Kyazan’s subsequent question, a probe for more details, cut to the heart of the matter.

"How much?" he inquired, a keen interest glinting in his eyes.

With a measured tone, Kyordai answer.

"East and North,"

"How about the south?"

"Free," he revealed

Kyazan laughter erupted, a joyous outburst that reverberated within the tent.

The mirth that danced in his eyes mirrored the pride and elation that surged within him.

As Kyordai words settled upon his ears, Kyazan eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and anticipation.

"Then we have to make a move," Kyazan declared, his voice imbued with a resolute energy that left no room for hesitation.

Kyordai inquiry about the timing of their next move was met with an immediate response.

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight!" Kyordai echoed, his agreement underscoring the swiftness with which they intended to act.

"Then how about the Utgard tribe? Will they just let us?" he inquired, a tinge of scepticism colouring his words.

Confidence laced Kyazan response.

"They will," he assured, his conviction unwavering.

The assurance in his voice suggested a depth of understanding that Kyordai had yet to fully grasp.

"And the Brolgadhr?"

"They will also let us," Kyazan stated, his words carrying a mixture of certainty and conviction.

The chief’s confidence in the responses of their powerful neighbours is puzzling to Kyordai

With a nod of understanding, he accepted the task bestowed upon him. "Bring Third with you," Kyazan directed.

Kyordai nod acknowledged the instruction, and with a sense of purpose, he swiftly rose from his seat and quickly retreated from the tent.

>>