It had been a little over an hour since Jax arrived at the town with the native boys and the now partially disabled mercenaries.
It was a small encampment at first, situated on the side of a forest, near the south end of the tallest mountain within a hundred kilometers.
It was so small in fact that it did not even have a name. There were just a handful of old cabins and huts there.
The only people who lived in this place were retired hunters and those folks that did not fit in anywhere else or had nowhere to go.
These scant few men and women lived simple lives. Hunting and gathering most of the day and eating what they had gathered or preparing it to be eaten in the remaining time.
But since the cultivators arrived en masse, many people had migrated here.
And soon after, the cultivators had followed suit.