Chapter 145: The Price of Abundance
The month of intensive instruction concluded under a clear sky and biting air. During those weeks, the fifty riflemen reached remarkable fluency in reading tactical orders, while the settlement adopted the school routine for its children. The tribe was no longer just a group of armed survivors; it had transformed into a structured society.
However, that growth brought with it an unprecedented problem for the Overlord Tribe: internal conflicts. With full stomachs, warm shelters, and the immediate threat of starvation eradicated, abundance began to breed friction among the villagers.
In the central courtyard, two men from different families were shouting in rage, on the verge of coming to blows over a dispute regarding a roll of cured hides.
"I brought that hide back from the southern hunt!" said one of them, shoving the other.
"But I cured it in the workshop for three days!" said the second, raising a fist.
Before the violence could escalate, Mentz broke into the courtyard followed by four members of the new police force. The men and women of the unit wore fitted dark-leather vests and carried heavy reinforced wooden batons on their belts.
"Enough!" said Mentz, stepping between both villagers with his imposing frame. "No one raises a hand in this settlement. The material belongs to the workshop inventory until the council assigns its use."
Mentz turned his face toward a youth who was watching nervously from the side.
"You were in the workshop this morning," said Mentz, pointing to the witness. "Walk with us. No one will touch you or retaliate against you for telling the truth."
Placing two of his officers between the witness and those involved to protect him, Mentz listened to his quick statement. Immediately after, when the first hunter tried to lunge forward violently to silence the witness, one of the female police officers acted without delay. Utilizing the joint-lock and submission techniques Brak had taught them—taking advantage of the fluidity and precision of her combat training—she caught his arm, twisted it behind his back, and brought him down onto the snow without needing to draw a single weapon.
The man remained pinned to the ground, grunting in frustration.
At the corner of the market, another police officer was resolving a ration theft accusation. Instead of taking sides immediately, the agent questioned three neighboring merchants separately, evaluating contradictions until finding the true culprit and isolating him from the rest before the crowd could take the law into their own hands.
From the balcony of the main residence, Kellar observed every move alongside Brak.
"Peace breeds conflicts of a different nature, Brak," said Kellar, resting his hands on the wooden railing. "When people struggle against starvation, their sole priority is survival. But when they have security, selfishness, property disputes, and envy emerge."
Kellar pointed downward, gesturing toward the way the officer held the hunter pinned to the ground.
"Look at Mentz," said Kellar. "He did well to protect the witness immediately and isolate the threat before questioning. His mistake was hesitating for a second before ordering physical submission; on the streets, hesitation invites chaos. But the execution of the hold was flawless. Those fighting techniques you taught them fit police work perfectly."
"They were beast hunters, Great Shaman," said Brak, watching the scene with crossed arms. "Learning to subdue live prey without killing it was part of the trade. Adapting those holds to men was simple."
"That is why the police must not only learn to use weapons, but also how to evaluate, protect the innocent, and maintain civil order without needing to slaughter our own people," said Kellar, watching Mentz escort those involved toward the guard headquarters.
Kellar was about to turn away from the balcony when a sudden movement among the crowd caught his eye. A man lurking in the shadows of the street had been stalking the area. The moment the situation seemed to calm down, the suspect lunged forward with unbridled rage, driving a dagger deep into the abdomen of the female officer as she was just getting up from the ground.
"You damn shaman’s bitch! How dare you strike my brother?!" said the attacker, plunging the blade with violence.
The woman let out a muffled cry of agony as she collapsed backward into the snow. Instantly, one of the police officers tried to tackle him to the ground, but the suspect slashed his knife, forcing the officer back. The attacker had been a former hunter serving the traitorous nobles; he missed the days when he could abuse the weak at will without having to work like a mule, unlike the heavy labor required of him now under the tribe’s rule.
Kellar did not hesitate for a second. He marched down the stairs with a cold gaze and stepped into the courtyard, approaching while panic spread through the onlookers.
"Kill him," said Kellar, looking at Brak.
Kellar turned toward Mentz and the police officers surrounding the wounded agent, letting his voice ring out like cold iron before the attacker could react.
"Listen closely," said Kellar, pointing at the assailant. "When a fool attempts against one of our members, you as police cease to be people who seek justice and fairness. Nobody touches my people and lives to tell the tale."
Bang!
The deafening shot of Brak’s pistol echoed across the entire courtyard. The bullet tore straight through the hunter’s chest, killing him on impact and dropping his lifeless body onto the bloodstained snow.
Kellar looked down at the brother who remained pinned to the ground, trembling in terror beside his relative’s corpse.
"Send this one with the next shipment to the mines," said Kellar, looking at Mentz. "Tell Helga I want her to give this fool special treatment."
Two police officers grabbed the suspect by the arms and began dragging him across the snow. The man kicked and screamed in a fit of rage and despair over his brother’s death, but the officers did not loosen their grip by an inch.
Kellar knelt immediately beside the wounded officer, who kept her hand pressed firmly against the wound on her side while breathing heavily.
"Easy, it is just a scratch," said Kellar, resting a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her still. "Everything will be fine."
Kellar looked up at the officers standing by in tension.
"Bring me the first aid kit!" said Kellar.