Reborn As A Beastman With A System

He uncle Begon was usually very serious and didn't talk about anything personal with him but now, he was delving into personal matters, something utterly unexpected from him.

Logan, initially surprised, quickly regained his composure. He realized his uncle must have had a change of heart. After all, they were family, bound by blood.

Recognizing Begon's extended him a hand, Logan was ready to embrace it. He had always valued family ties, believing that blood relations should not be marred by resentment or strife.

"Yes, her name is Jean. She hails from a prominent family in Kasros Canyon," Logan confirmed, his voice steady. "Her father commands a large mercenary group, numbering tens of thousands."

"Tens of thousands?" Begon echoed, his voice tinged with astonishment.

"Mercenaries, those who stride the razor's edge between life and death. To lead tens of thousands, her father must be a formidable figure, a titan among men," Begon mused aloud, his tone laced with a mix of respect and apprehension.

"Have you had the opportunity to meet her father?" Begon inquired, his eyebrows arching in curiosity.

"Yes," Logan replied, his nod firm and decisive.

"And what were his thoughts on this union?" Begon pressed, eager to gauge the intentions of such a powerful figure.

Logan caught the undercurrent of concern in his uncle's voice. Could it be that Begon was anxious about the alliance this marriage could signify? It seemed likely. Touched by his uncle's evident care, Logan felt a warmth spread within him, he cherished his uncle deeply.

Thus, he chose transparency, believing there was nothing to conceal. "His approval has been given for our marriage," Logan declared.

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"Really that's good?" Begon's voice carried a surge of relief.

"Yes, it's settled. But the Silver Mane Tribe, our tribe, remains vulnerable," Begon sighed, the weight of their situation evident in his tone. "The disparity in strength between our families is quite big."

"When do you intend to hold the wedding ceremony?" Begon queried, looking intently at his nephew.

"It's premature to set a date. I've yet to discuss the particulars with her," Logan responded, shaking his head slightly. His heart was set on marrying Jean, but his timing had to be right.

"Now is the moment for our tribe to ascend; I must focus on that before all else," Logan added, his voice firm, underscoring his commitment to their people's prosperity over personal matters.

"Logan, consider that as chief, the trust of our people might solidify with the stability a family brings," Begon advised, a slight shake of his head conveying his earnestness. "A chief with a wife and children is seen as a fully vested leader, this can greatly enhance the people's allegiance to you."

"Is this a push towards marriage then?" Logan wondered aloud, half-jokingly, half-seriously, as he contemplated the traditional expectations that seemed to follow him through time itself.

"Do you truly believe that's necessary, uncle?" Logan asked, his gaze locking with Begon's, searching for affirmation or contradiction.

Begon met his nephew's gaze squarely, the corners of his mouth lifting in a reassuring smile. "No, Logan. In my eyes, you've already proven yourself a capable leader, one whom our people can trust and rally behind confidently," he asserted with conviction.

At his uncle's words, Logan couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh, the tension in the room dissolving into a moment of light-hearted connection.

"Uncle Begon, it is indeed an honor to receive your recognition," Logan declared, his tone carrying a mixture of respect and warmth as he made his way towards the grand exit stairs of the ancestral hall.

Reaching the base of the steps, Logan paused to cast a glance back at his Uncle Begon, who was observing him intently. With a thoughtful expression, Logan ventured, "Tell me truly, Uncle, the formalities between us as uncle and nephew, they no longer stand in our way, do they?"

"Not in the slightest!" Begon responded, his voice brimming with affection and a hint of amusement.

Logan, feeling a surge of familial bond, nodded emphatically. "We are family, bound by blood. What misunderstanding could possibly linger between us that cannot be resolved?" He paused, his eyes alight with an idea. "It has been ages since our last family gathering. How about tonight? I'll host a dinner at my manor and invite the entire Silvermane lineage.

Let's renew our ties."

With that, Logan ascended the steps, his footsteps echoing in the hall.

Behind him, Begon remained in the shadowed expanse of the mine warehouse, the quiet creaking of wood planks underfoot breaking the silence. He stared distantly at the aging beams, a nostalgic smile curling his lips. "The Silvermane family, indeed," he murmured to himself, a sense of pride evident in his voice. "Brother, your son truly is remarkable."

After leaving the warehouse, Logan entered the bustling forge shop. The sharp clang of metal and a cacophony of voices greeted him, signs of the forge's revival. The last time he was here, the place was nearly deserted, save for the blacksmith Bastos and a couple of his apprentices.

Stepping inside, Logan was enveloped in the heat and noise of the shop. "Who is there...?"

"Master Chief, is it really you?" Blacksmith Bastos, recognizing the figure at the door, quickly rose from his stool, a look of surprise and joy crossing his face. "Well, I'll be, back already, are you?"

"It seems the forge is full of life again," Logan observed, a smile playing on his lips.

"All thanks to you, Chief," Bastos replied, stroking his grizzled chin thoughtfully. "After you spoke up, that boy Begon finally agreed to let my crew return to work."

"Would you care for a tour, Master Chief? It's quite warm inside, but it's good to see the forge thriving," Bastos added, gesturing towards the heart of the noisy workshop.

Logan, the recently appointed chief, had entrusted Bastos with an important role at the forge. Despite his age, Bastos was eager to demonstrate the capabilities of the forging shop under his supervision. He was determined to prove his worth to the young chief.

"Lead the way, Bastos!" Logan encouraged, nodding with approval. He could see the eagerness etched across the old blacksmith's weathered face,an unmistakable desire to impress.

Logan knew he couldn't let down Bastos, who was considered a valuable asset to the community, a mid-level blacksmith with unmatched skills. Yet, the forge was not a place Logan relished visiting; the sweltering heat was something he particularly disliked. Nonetheless, he ventured inside, hoping to make his inspection brief.

After a quick tour that didn't reveal anything new, Logan turned to Bastos with a practical question. "Bastos, with the current team, how many sets of armor could we produce in a month if we operated at full capacity?"

Bastos counted off the numbers in his head. "Right now, we have forty-six craftsmen, Chief. But of those, only about twenty are skilled enough to forge armor. The rest assist with less complex tasks."

He paused, calculating, then concluded, "At full tilt, we could manage to craft around 150 pieces each month."

Logan nodded, though internally he felt the output was insufficient. "One hundred and fifty, that's decent." He understood well that training skilled craftsmen was a slow and arduous process, not something that could be rapidly scaled up.

"Is that satisfactory?" Bastos asked, sensing a hint of disappointment in Logan's response and feeling slightly defensive.

"Master Chief, our warehouse already has a significant stockpile of armor," Bastos began, hoping to highlight an additional point, but Logan cut him off with a decisive shake of his head.

"It's not enough, Bastos. I intend to expand the Silver Mane Tribe's army to at least five thousand strong within the next six months. We need far more armor than what we currently have stockpiled." Logan's tone was firm, underscoring the urgent need for increased production to meet the ambitious goals he had set for their community.

"Expand the army by five thousand?" Blacksmith Bastos gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief. Given Chief Logan's often bewildering strategies, one might dismiss the idea as folly if not for the earnestness in the young chief's gaze.

Indeed, the numbers didn't add up, their entire tribe didn't boast 5,000 beastmen, let alone warriors. To muster such a force, they'd need thrice that number in support alone.

Wait a minute!

A realization struck Bastos like a hammer to anvil. If the numbers fell short, the only solution was a grim one, war. An aggressive, annexation-style war against the neighboring tribes, much like the previous conflicts that had brought the four divisions under their banner.

Despite their erstwhile foes' initial intent to invade the Silver Mane tribe, Logan had preempted them, not just for defense but due to a dire need for labor.

While war was a prospect that filled most with dread, Bastos found a silver lining. As a blacksmith, conflict meant his skills were in demand, his craft essential.

"I see what you're planning, Chief," Bastos said, his voice steady. "I'll push our forges to their limits."

"However, without additional hands, especially young, strong workers, it will be nigh impossible to equip a new army of 5,000 within six months," he continued, a note of urgency in his tone.