Book 4 Chapter 11

The next morning was a stark contrast to the liveliness from the night before. Men and women lay scattered across the ground, sleeping like the dead right where they had fallen the night before. Those that were awake slowly drew themselves up, shambling over those that still slept as they sought food or water or even just to relieve themselves.

As the valley slowly picked itself back up and began cleaning up after the events of the night before, Tirr sat with his head in his hands, his mind elsewhere as Dun spoke.

The mountain warrior, noticing Tirr’s far away expression, frowned. “Are you even listening?” He asked, rolling his eyes as the boy didn’t respond. “Hey!” He snapped his fingers, waving them in front of Tirr’s face, as he shouted, “You there?”

Tirr blinked, looking up at the large man, “Hmmm? Oh yeah… No, I heard you” Tirr said quietly, “The tribe doesn’t like outsiders especially in their sacred ground, so we have to do something about it….”

Hearing his words so abbreviated poorly, Dun let out a laugh, “The ‘it’ we need to do was the important part…” He said as he sat back down. “If you want to lead an army up the mountain, or even just take control of the shard, then you're going to need to become a member of the tribe. And to do that… We need to call the Moot.”

Tirr’s head tilted at the unfamiliar word, “Moot?”

“The Moot,” Dun explained again, rolling his eyes. “It’s a meeting of the Tribe’s Clans to vote on important issues. You remember what I told you about the clans, yeah?”

Tirr started to nod his head before stopping, and then slowly shaking it back and forth. Dun couldn’t help but let out another laugh. “When you don’t listen to someone you really don’t listen, do you?”

Tirr frowned, feeling a bit irritated with the man's teasing manner. “What’d you say them?”

“Look,” Dun started, “Back in the day, the tribe was all just one group alright? We’d roam the mountain ranges, moving from valley to valley and camp to camp, following the hunt and the harvest. But at some point, as the tribe started growing, disagreements started happening...”

“You had a lot of people all wanting to take charge and lead the tribe their way. Just like any country really, but the tribe was young and hadn't needed to solve such issues before. At first, it came to bloodshed, but the tribe, not wanting to brutalize itself that way, came to another solution. Instead of turning on itself, it would split…”

“Split? Into the Clans?” The young god interrupted, his voice curious.

Dun nodded. “We call them the Clans because at first, it was mostly families. Leaders of large families who felt they had enough power would split, forming their own Clan before choosing a valley to settle in. Eventually, others would congregate to clans they agreed with or whose strength they admired…”

“Where does this ‘Moot’ come into this though?” Tirr asked.

“I’m getting to that…” Dun waved away his impatience, “As the clans started getting bigger, even with how wide the mountains, problems started to occur again. Clans started to bump into each other's territories, or a bad hunt may leave a Clan weak and ripe for others to attack. Eventually, it was decided there needed to be a way for us to properly communicate. A way to discuss issues and problems in the fairest way possible. And, more importantly, a way to nominate a leader in times of crisis…”

Tirr’s eyes widened at the last words, “I thought the tribe didn’t have a leader?”

“It doesn’t most of the time. Each clan handles its own business… But things like heavy winters, droughts, or…” Dun smiled, “Hordes of rampaging Beasts… Would require us to come together again, and at that point, there would need to be a leader.”

“So, the idea is to call this Moot, make me a member of the tribe, and then appoint me leader…”

Dun nodded, “Currently there are five clans active within the Tribe. The people here, my Clan, is Waythe. We’re one of only three Clans that can trace our bloodline back to the beginning. Out of all the Clans, we’re seen as being pretty progressive since we were the first to open trade with the flatlanders “

“After that, the people you ran into were Krawl Clan led by the father of that hothead I threw. They’re another of the old clans and are really caught up on tradition because of it.”

“That’s why they tried to attack us?” Tirr asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, Mali and his father both like to pretend their Clan is the oldest and therefore the most important. Sometimes they need a reminder that the mountain doesn’t belong to them.” Dun sighed, “However their clan is the largest, and having to fight our way through them would be time-consuming and unnecessary.”

Tirr nodded understanding the unspoken words, the mountain mercenary hadn’t even said impossible. He had seen Tirr’s strength and knew that any of the clans would probably not be a match for him. But if fighting could be avoided… They were still from the tribe after all…

“The Havo are the last old Clan and generally lean towards traditional values but tend not to side with either us or the Krawl. The last two clans are smaller but still have an equal vote. Clan Fui has been a good friend since my grandfather’s generation. While Clan Jacta is closer to Krawl.”

Tirr frowned, “If the Moot comes down to a vote, doesn’t it seem like we’ll lose then? Or is the plan to convince this Havo Clan?

Dun shook his head, “No Havo may not like Krawl but they're still traditionalists. They’ll vote against you joining for sure…”

“Then what's the point?” The young god asked, confused.

Dun smiled widely, his gleaming teeth giving him a vicious look. “Didn’t say voting way the only way we decided things, did I? Just said we used a fair way…” The mercenary laughed, “Did you forget? This is the Tribe... Where, in the end, strength tops everything else….”