"Chieftain Sam, give the order. That hill has always been the territory of the Iron Hoof Tribe, and the ore veins buried there belong to us!"
"Yes, if we don't seize that ore vein, we will no longer have any resources to trade with Dawn City."
"Chieftain, as soon as we act we could recapture resources for thousands of sets of armor; don't you want our 800 heavy warriors to multiply in number several times over?!"
"The Iron Hoof Tribe should be the rulers of this region!"
Sitting in the center of the giant beast skin tent, Sam frowned slightly as he looked around at the agitated Centaurs. His gaze unwittingly drifted to a discreet corner where an old, silent man-horse stood like a stone sculpture.
Disappointed by the lack of response, Sam turned his head away and gave his stirred subordinates a deep look.
"We'll discuss everything after the Kachar City Lord arrives."
After saying that, he closed his eyes to meditate and did not speak again.
