Labor Shortage!

"Name: Logan

Age: 10 years old

Occupation: Fourth-level warrior (Experience 58/100) (Reputation 478/1000) (Practice 5/10)

Position: Chieftains of the Silvermane Tribe

Tribe: 2188 (1877 adult Beastmen, 311 minor Beastmen.)

(1 sixth-level warrior, 4 fifth-level warriors, 17 fourth-level warriors, 89 third-level warriors, 956 second-level warriors , 1121 first-level warriors.)

Soldiers: 665 warriors, 76 warg cavalry.

Stable: warg...

Territory: 1620 square kilometers

Mall: (opened)

Professional inheritance: (already opened)

sub-professional inheritance : (Already turned on)"

As Logan perused his attributes, he noted a static state in most areas. However, a significant leap in his strength stood out: his practice level had increased from four to five in a matter of days. Previously accustomed to morning gymnastics, Logan had shifted his focus to an hour of combat training each morning, a change that might explain his rapid improvement in practice. Whether it was a trick of the system or a display of his innate talent, Logan couldn't say. What mattered to him was the undeniable advancement in his strength, facilitated by not one but three distinct pathways.

Yet, it was his soaring reputation that truly marked a pivotal change in his life. Upon ascending to the position of chief, his reputation had seen a meteoric rise from a modest hundred points to its current standing, a surge that could have been even more had he not exchanged a portion of it for essential resources like potatoes and sweet potatoes. Such strategic exchanges, though costly in terms of reputation points, bore no regret for Logan. His role as chief had taught him the value of balancing personal strength with the welfare of his tribe.

Contemplating his current reputation, Logan mused over the potential of exchanging points for tangible goods. With 400 rabbits in his sights for Kodiak and a desire to reserve some reputation for future agricultural ventures, Logan recognized the importance of maintaining a balance. The welfare of the tribe, particularly in terms of food security, weighed heavily on his decisions.

Exhausted from a day spent cultivating sweet potatoes, Logan retreated from the complexities of leadership and strategy. Despite his status as a fourth-level warrior, the day's labour had taken its toll. Collapsing onto his bed, he quickly succumbed to a deep, restful sleep, his snores only further represented the day's hard work and the responsibilities that lay on his young shoulders.

As dawn broke, Logan staggered out of his chamber, driven not by the natural awakening of daybreak but by the gnawing hunger that disturbed his sleep. The night before, he had only nibbled on a piece of stale black bread, a meagre attempt to stave off the hunger pangs.

"Logan, you're up! Hurry, wash your face and come have breakfast!" The warm, maternal voice reached Logan before his mind fully grasped the morning's light.

Glancing up, he exclaimed, "Mother!" His eyes met the comforting smile of a middle-aged woman as she laid out the breakfast. The sight of her up and about, after days confined to illness, filled Logan with a bittersweet relief.

After a quick wash, Logan joined her at the table, only to notice her gaze fixed on him, laden with an unspoken affection. "Aren't you eating, Mother?" he inquired, puzzled by her focus on him rather than the meal, feeling a sting of discomfort at their relationship, which felt more like that of strangers than of blood.

"I'll eat later with Kevin and the others," she reassured with a smile that seemed to bridge the gap between them, if only slightly.

Logan nodded, the underlying tension unspoken, as he hurried through his simple breakfast of porridge made from brown bread, water, wild vegetables, and bits of minced meat, a more lavish feast compared to the dry bread of last night.

"Mom, I've finished. There's work to be done with the tribe today; I must go," Logan announced, leaving the table and the wolf mother's lingering gaze behind. Her sigh echoed a lonely sentiment, a reflection on the strained bond with her son.

---

At the Congress Hall, Logan, now in his role as chief, sat authoritatively with his uncles, Begon and Reynolds, positioned below him. The topic at hand was the expansion of the animal pen, a critical move given the tribe's dire need for more food sources.

"I agree with expanding the animal pen, but allocating 80 people to it is impractical!" Begon expressed his concern, acknowledging the necessity of the expansion for the tribe's survival but questioning the feasibility of Logan's plan for manpower.

Logan listened intently, aware of the balancing act between ambition and reality, the welfare of the tribe hanging in the balance. His uncles, veterans of many such deliberations, were invaluable in navigating these decisions, even when their perspectives diverged from his own. The challenge of leadership was not just in making decisions but in weaving together the wisdom and concerns of those around him for the greater good of the tribe.

Logan, with a tone firm yet open for discussion, pressed on, "Uncle, how many people can we realistically reallocate? It's crucial we understand the necessity of expanding our animal pens."

He leaned forward, urgency laced in his voice, "The lack of meat is not just a minor inconvenience, it's affecting our very vitality. I can feel my own strength waning. What of our warriors then? Their combat effectiveness is paramount to our survival. Without it, the future of our Silver Mane Tribe is at grave risk."

Begon, his uncle, nodded gravely, acknowledging the gravity of the situation yet countered, "Indeed, the predicament is dire. But, consider our tribe's manpower. We're a community of barely over 2,000, with only a fraction available for labour, discounting the children. Our current balance of tasks is precarious. Diverting eighty people to the animal pens might solve one problem but at the cost of creating others."

Reynolds chimed in, unable to hold his silence any longer despite his initial reluctance, "The balance we've maintained is delicate. With such a drastic shift, what of the other essential tasks?" Though his words were aimed at the room rather than Logan directly, the respect for his chief's position was clear, despite his evident discomfort with the proposal.

Logan, taking a moment to consider their words, faced the reality of their situation. The Silver Mane Tribe, likened to a finely tuned machine, could ill afford to lose focus on any front without repercussions. "Labour is indeed our bottleneck. If eighty is too ambitious, then what's the maximum you believe we can afford without jeopardizing our current stability?" he inquired, genuinely seeking a middle ground.

Reynolds, visibly perturbed by the direct approach, remained silent, leaving Begon to respond.

Begon sighed, "Chief, determining an exact number without a thorough review is challenging. We've allocated significant manpower to land reclamation, a task still underway. Expanding the animal pens now might stretch our resources too thin."

His tone was not of defiance but of caution, reflecting the whirlwind of changes since Logan took leadership. "Your ambition for our tribe's progress is clear, and while admirable, perhaps a more measured pace would serve us better, doing too much at once could hinder everything" Begon suggested, hinting at a broader perspective for the well-being of their tribe.