After a good night's sleep, I regained my sanity, so to speak. This place is terrifying. Yesterday, I felt as if all my negative emotions were consuming me; killing seemed necessary, yet at the same time it was destroying me psychologically. And then those women… How could I have lost so much empathy that I ordered my men to violate them without a second thought? This land, described as cursed and forsaken by God, is exactly as they say. Perhaps I'm just blaming this place, but what if it really is that way? I can feel that sinister energy, present in my nightmares. Since I arrived here, the dreams are much more vivid and intense than those I've had in the past.
But that doesn't matter now; it's not like I can leave this place. I have a lot to do, and now that my mind is a bit clearer, I think I can handle my current issues. I called another meeting with my people to plan our next moves and avoid past mistakes.
…
Well, I wouldn't say things have gone great, but we're still alive, and I think that, in this place, that's an achievement.
I faced a lot of issues I didn't know how to handle, but by paying attention to what others like me have posted and listening to my people, I've started to take the right path.
First, regarding the slave women, I was ashamed to look at them after what I'd ordered. They were defiled because of me, not all my men. Some seemed to have principles, though the thugs, for example, were pleased with my decision. I assigned other women and men to care for them, not to kill them, but to keep watch over them and give them tasks they could handle.
The issue with the slaves wasn't just treating them as disposable to break their will. As I mentioned, there are ways to make this easier, but it's neither easy nor cheap under our current conditions. That was my mistake; I had alternatives, but I didn't see them. Humanity didn't start off mastering iron and steel; it began with much simpler and more accessible, though less effective, things.
Copper, for example, is a much simpler metal to work with, though less durable and resistant. In the past, it was used before iron and other metals were developed. It would be a good starting point if I want to work with metals. It's still extremely difficult without a forge, but better than nothing. I also discovered that melting down the "magic" copper coins we use results in something more durable than pure copper ore, though this process isn't sustainable long-term: coins can be forged into objects, but not the other way around.
Wood is also an option, though without nails it's complicated, and nails are expensive. This is why I considered using copper, though it remains an alternative I need to keep in mind.
I met with the blacksmiths, woodcutters, and carpenters to plan how to achieve what we want. The woodworkers started on what I asked, while the blacksmiths and builders began constructing a furnace capable of melting copper at least. I knew we didn't have everything we needed, so we agreed to spend our current wealth to buy what we lacked. I know I could buy the items I need directly, but I'd rather invest in a lasting solution: buying the hen rather than the eggs.
Now that I have a clearer path forward, building the structures is better organized. Houses will be constructed to meet advancement requirements, with the last one to be turned into a smithy, which is very necessary. For now, having a suitable place to work with fire and metals is a priority. For other tasks, regular houses can suffice temporarily.
Regarding our camp, that's all for now, but we also need to talk about raiding. There are two days of rest between each one, which seems short, since there are about two to three raids each week. I soon learned why this interval exists: every raid must be carefully planned, weighing if each venture is truly worthwhile.
Whenever we had the chance, we raided for resources and free slaves, though I'll speak more on the latter later. Everything was going well until we received a reality check on two occasions. The first was when one raid didn't happen on this land, but in another realm of this world.
There was excitement, the thrill of seeing something beyond this dark land, but what awaited us was something we weren't prepared for. My men and I appeared in the middle of a desert, under a blazing sun. I don't know where we were, but this place was entirely different from what we knew. We felt it immediately, with the burning of our skin and the sand choking our lungs. To make things worse, being a raid outside our land, the maximum distance to the enemy camp increased to 20 kilometers. We barely made it past one kilometer before feeling faint. Our homeland is relatively cold, and there we were nearly roasting. We ended up deciding to abandon that opportunity, as even if we reached the target, we wouldn't have been in any condition to fight.
The second reality check came when, instead of a small camp of five people, we found a medium-sized one of twenty-five. I took fifteen men with me that day, and nine returned, and that was only because we retreated in time. After that experience, we began to exercise more caution. I saw how easily our forces could dwindle and how difficult it was to replenish them. I understood why, despite the frequent raids, camps still managed to survive: if you raid carelessly, you'll end up without enough strength to protect yourself. It seems other leaders quickly understood this too, as each performs only a limited number of raids, conserving their forces. I began to do the same. If a raid was planned, I had to carefully manage who I sent and who stayed to guard the camp.
Now, moving on to our numbers: as I mentioned, the raids reduced our forces, and although there weren't always deaths, injuries decreased our workforce, which only worsened our situation. This continued until I finally acquired what I'd been seeking, something I hadn't bought before due to its cost and for which I'd tried to find alternatives.
Different cultures may have different symbols, but one very common to mine was the shape of shackles, the symbol of slavery. These weren't just ordinary shackles; they were mysterious objects unique to this world, much like the coins.
The first thing we managed to obtain were some rudimentary wooden shackles, crafted by my carpenter and the lumberjacks. Even the cruelest of slave masters wouldn't want their slaves to wear something like this, as they were easy to open or so uncomfortable that they reduced the usefulness of the slave. However, it was what we had, and we put in our best effort to make them. And making them wasn't easy.
These shackles had their own special characteristics, and not just any product could be turned into [Slave Shackles]. The physical item needed a certain quality, along with a specific engraving composed of three parts. First, the name of the slave master, institution, country, or, in general, the slave's owner. Second, the title of slavery, which could simply be "Slave." Lastly, a unique identifier for the slave, which could be a number, letters, symbols, or even the slave's name, but it had to be unique. A single master couldn't have two identical [Slave Shackles], except in exceptional cases.
The difficulty was that if any mistake was made or any requirement was missing — requirements I still don't fully understand — the item would fail to acquire its "identity," and we'd have to discard it and start over. Out of every batch of ten shackles, only about four would be functional on average, and that was after learning from early mistakes, when we'd barely managed one or two successful shackles per batch.
But the effort was worth it, as these items proved to be quite useful. Firstly, they helped enforce the slave class by some kind of magic or power I don't understand, but which clearly worked, although the low quality weakened that effect. Additionally, they had a loyalty-related function: it didn't make the wearer loyal, but if the slave tried to disobey or escape, the shackles reacted by significantly increasing their weight.
This was an important step, so after confirming their effectiveness, I didn't hesitate to spend on some nails to speed up production. It was easier to get nails than to buy quality shackles. It's not that the latter weren't useful, but their price was incomparably higher.
Thus, our raids continued, but we only conducted them when we confirmed that the camps were small, with around five people. If they were larger, we didn't risk it.
The captured people were controlled and, at first, beaten a little, and then occasionally if they showed little cooperation. The shackles we had showed favorable results, though their low quality reduced their effectiveness. It was interesting to see how they increased in weight or caused skin irritation in the wearer when they disobeyed.
...
So, the three-month mark came, and we received a big announcement that all foreigners heard or read:
[To all camps that have survived to this point: the time has come to face your first disaster. Within the next few hours (between 2 and 6), a minor-scale disaster will begin, which you will have to face. This will vary according to each region, kingdom, culture, etc. To anyone who doesn't belong to a camp, it's advised to stay away from these camps and areas outside native cities to avoid being affected by these disasters.]
The time had come. A disaster was approaching, and I couldn't have been more nervous. I quickly gathered everyone, giving orders to prepare for what was coming. I knew I had at least two hours before it began, but that wasn't much time, and I didn't know what we would be facing.
...
Our weapons and soldiers were ready at all times, resources and tools safely stored but within easy reach. Our animals rested, well-tended, at the center of the camp, while watchfulness never ceased: we had constant patrols, and even the slaves were integrated into them. I knew it was risky to put the not fully subdued in patrol roles, but after the losses in recent weeks, I had barely a bit more than 30 loyal men left.
After the two hours had passed, my anxiety grew ceaselessly, but nothing happened. Keeping watch for another hour, I saw nothing unusual, until I finally decided to go to the mud house and check the posts, hoping to see if anyone had already encountered the incoming disaster.
[GUnUG]: Does anyone else feel like the temperature's dropped?
[DicksonJonny]: Anyone in Inaztaya? Selling my camp, DM me.
[Galib-Bari]: Good morning, beautiful dawn creatures.
There was a bit of everything, especially without filters by region or zone. However, after a while, I managed to find a few people already facing these challenges:
[Liod66]: Damn, it's raining, raining so much! How can it suddenly rain this much? It's been raining for hours; it's ankle-deep. Anyone know what to do?
[Agnu-Hara]: Warning to everyone in the deserts of Sakaras: I'm seeing a colossal sandstorm approaching. It's not a normal storm; it seems like it wants to swallow the world whole.
[HuyuanGi]: Guys, I just died and lost my whole camp. If you see a caravan of merchants, run or shoot without hesitation. They're not merchants; don't trust them, they're bandits. By the way, any compatriots interested in taking in a Halberdier-General-Woodcutter at their camp?
[BubuiSusui]: Does anyone know what this counter that suddenly appeared is? Has anyone else gotten one? Mine says (2/40).
[Grining9]: I have one too; it showed up after I stepped on a rat accidentally; it's at (1/100)… Oh my god! Kill your rats, kill your rats! One of my men just got bitten and is vomiting blood…
I watched how the camps faced different kinds of disasters: some were natural, others caused by other humans. I was absorbed in the reading until I heard a scream from outside.
I ran out, club in hand; I don't use a knife anymore since I left it to someone more skilled with it. When I arrived, I found a commotion. I approached, and right then a counter appeared in my vision that read:
[1/15]
In front of me, a slave covered in wounds and blood was screaming in pain. On top of her, a wolf, its body riddled with arrows and other injuries. My men explained that the wolf had come out of the forest and attacked the woman when she wandered off to relieve herself, obeying the order I gave to avoid doing so near the camp. The hunters watching over the slaves were the ones who took down the wolf, which, though clearly weakened by hunger, was in much better shape than the wolves we'd seen months earlier.
Wolves, that could be our disaster, and this was the first one. We searched for traces of others, but there didn't seem to be signs of more, at least not in sight. The hunters informed me that the girl wouldn't survive her wounds; she was visibly weakening, barely able to scream or cry out loudly. They whispered something to me, and I could only nod sadly.
My people withdrew while the warriors ended the girl's suffering. They then took her body a little way into the forest, leaving it exposed, hoping that if more wolves were around, the corpse would serve as bait to avoid surprise attacks on our group.