Reborn As A Beastman With A System

The following morning, Logan, accompanied by his uncle Begon and uncle Reynolds, to ventured close to the tribal warehouse. As they approached, the area buzzed with activity. Numerous tribesmen and beastmen bustled about, tidying and organizing what appeared to be a series of vacant dwellings.

Logan scanned the scene, noting the flurry of movement. "Is this the abandoned complex then?" he inquired.

Begon nodded, his voice carrying over the din. "Indeed, these were homes once, but proximity to the warehouse meant relocating more than a dozen families. Fortunately, there's a winery nearby which simplifies logistics considerably."

Logan frowned slightly, his concern palpable. "Ensure those displaced families are well settled. It's vital they don't feel shortchanged by this move."

"Absolutely," Begon assured him, a confident tone in his reply. "Don't worry, the new settlement comprises entirely new constructions. We've incorporated many of your suggestions, resulting in homes far more comfortable and functional than their previous ones."

Logan nodded, satisfied with Begon's assurances.

As they walked through the area, the unique construction of the beastmeb dwellings caught Logan' eye. Built from a robust blend of earth, wood, and stone, each abode sprawled extensively over a single story to accommodate the large families typical of orc communities.

Reflecting on the need for space, Logan shared his architectural revisions. "In reconsidering the layout, I've proposed reducing each dwelling's footprint while introducing multi-storied structures, which should house our people more efficiently."

Begon gestured towards the bustling houses. "The individuals you see are the winery workers you handpicked, right?" he asked towards Reynolds, trying to speak over the background noise of clattering and chatter.

Indeed, the workforce was diverse: "Yes, 250 people in total? 156 Wolf-man, 24 dog-men, 26 quilbour, 29 minotaurs, 9 bear men, and 7 snake men. Of these, 200 will work the winery and the remaining 50 are those with keen senses you requested."

Logan raised an eyebrow, particularly intrigued by the mention of bear and snake men. "Bear and snake men?" he echoed with a mix of curiosity and surprise.

Begon elaborated, "The bear men hail from a small clan in the southern reaches of the wasteland, driven here by unending conflicts. The snake men, rare as they are, found sanctuary with us from the lush, humid riverbanks to the arid stretches of Tara Hills, brought to safety by our wolf cavalry."

Understanding the strategic importance of these alliances, Logan nodded thoughtfully. The wasteland, now known as the Cross Wasteland, symbolized a diverse conglomeration under the nominal rule of the orc king's Cross Kingdom, with the expansive Caesar Plains to the south fostering an array of distinct races and cultures.

Indeed, the governance of the Caesar Plains was as complex as the landscape was vast. Although nominally ruled by a triuNovelFireirate of kings, the daily reality involved frequent skirmishes among orc tribes. These altercations were typically overlooked by the royal court, provided they didn't escalate into major conflicts.

"As for the snake people, they hail from the Golden Basin," Begon explained, his voice tinged with concern. "There are 269 of them, remnants of a chieftain's family. Their tribe was overthrown, and they barely escaped with their lives."

"The snake chieftain is particularly notable for her keen sense of smell," Begon added, emphasizing the unique trait that defined their leader.

Logan pondered this for a moment. The Golden Basin... yes, he knew of it. Nestled to the northeast of the Tara Hills near the shimmering expanse of the Golden Sea, the basin was an ideal habitat for various reptilian and amphibious races such as the snake, lizard, turtle, and small fish people.

The region's humid climate and abundant water sources made it a sanctuary for these predominantly oviparous creatures. Intriguingly, the snake people were matriarchal; females led their communities with unquestioned authority, while male members rarely held any significant power.

"Summon the fifty tribesmen with the keenest noses," Logan instructed, his mind on a grander scheme.

He had a vision of crafting exquisite perfumes, a luxury that required an acute olfactory sense capable of discerning fragrances imperceptible to most and recognizing the subtle nuances within the same scent.

Begon acknowledged the command with a nod and gestured to Reynolds, who promptly disappeared inside the bustling house.

Though Begon harbored his own curiosities about the true purpose behind gathering these olfactively gifted tribesmen, he knew better than to question Logan' motives outright.

Shortly, Reynolds came back, leading a diverse group covered in the dust of their labors: Wolf men, bear men, minotaurs, boar men, kobolds, and snake men. They assembled before Logan, a motley crew marked by the signs of hard work.

Just then, a distinct, mature, and charming female voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. "Astari wishes to speak with the chief!"

The sudden request caused Begon to frown, and Reynolds reacted sharply, his voice filled with indignation. "How dare you! Come out!"

Logan, sensing the tension, raised his hand in a calming gesture, signaling Reynolds to hold his temper.

At that moment, two figures made their way through the throng, their presence about to add another layer to the unfolding drama.

In the midst of a throng of bustling creatures, two serpentine figures stood out with their striking presence. These were the snake people, creatures of legend, who lacked legs but moved with a grace that belied their serpentine forms.

Measuring between two and four meters in height, their bodies were a tapestry of human and reptilian features, smooth skin interrupted by patches of intricate scales, particularly beneath their cheeks and around their ears, which were shielded by these same shimmering scales. Though their visages bore a close resemblance to humans, these were beings of a different heritage.

Among them, two females of the species commanded attention. The elder, a woman whose age touched forty-seven years, possessed a regal beauty, her face framed by scales that gleamed like jewels. She was a fifth-level water magician, wisdom and power radiating from her poised stance.

Beside her, a younger counterpart, merely sixteen and already a fourth-rank water magician, stood with her head bowed, her long purple hair cascading down her shoulders, a curtain of modesty.

There were myths that often spoke of the snake people as descendants of the dreaded Medusa, yet unlike their mythical ancestor, these beings were celebrated as paragons of beauty among the beastmen tribes, a beauty so profound it was almost demonic in its allure.

In the bustling crowd, the elder snake woman, known as Astari, approached the tribal chieftain, a man named Logan. With a graceful motion that mimicked the flow of water, she bowed deeply, her voice carrying a mixture of reverence and urgency.

"Astari greets the chieftain. In hopes of your protection for our people, I offer my daughter to serve as your maid," she declared, her gaze steady and determined.

Logan, intrigued by the familial connection, inquired with a raised brow, "Astari, is this your daughter? What is her name?"

Under her mother's stern gaze, the young snake woman lifted her head, revealing striking features that echoed her mother's beauty but carried a vulnerability that was all her own. Nervously, she met the chieftain's gaze, her voice barely a whisper, "Chief, my name is... Isabel!"

The crowd seemed to hold its breath as Isabel spoke, her timidity juxtaposed against her mesmerizing appearance. Logan, though outwardly stoic, was internally taken aback by the young snake woman's charm. Her shy demeanor only added to her allure, making her seem even more captivating.

Onlookers, including Logan's trusted advisers, Begon and Reynolds, exchanged surprised glances, clearly not expecting such a demure yet stunning presence among the snake people.

Astari watched the chieftain's reaction closely, her heart a tumult of hope and uncertainty. She had gambled her daughter's future on the hope that her beauty could sway the young, vigorous leader of the Silver Mane Tribe. If Isabel could win the chief's favor, perhaps the snake people could carve out a place for themselves under his protection.

Yet, as Logan maintained his composure, Astari's confidence wavered. Was Isabel not enchanting enough to secure their future? The question haunted her as she awaited the chieftain's decision, her fate, and that of her people, hanging in the balance.