The river trolls' stench accompanied the tribe the entire way. Fortunately beastmen had strong racial resistance to such things. If they had been humans they would probably have refused to advance long ago.
Yet the thick, fishy stench still inevitably lowered the tribe's morale, especially among the younger beastmen. Vomiting sounds occasionally came from the marching column. Al had no choice but to organize the river trolls into a separate squad and have the minotaurs and centaurs supervise them.
The smell was torture for both sides, but the old Chaos beastmen had once been the very symbol of filth themselves, so they feared nothing. Greenskins and Chaos creatures also had high resistance to it, so the stench mainly affected the forces of Order.
After breaking free from corruption, the current beastmen were gradually moving toward wise, orderly beings. They were no longer cruel and bloodthirsty, and their tribes no longer reeked. Their resistance to filth had correspondingly weakened.
Al covered his nose against the lingering fishy stench in the air and considered that if he organized the river trolls into combat formations later, they would stink their own side into dizziness before even reaching the enemy. He would have to test it later.
Forming an entire heavy-armored troll legion that charged like stones in a latrine—both stinking and hard.
After breaking out of the valley they marched most of the night. As soon as dawn broke they set off again. After Thar's death, no one in the entire tribe knew anything about the depths of the forest beyond vague oral legends.
Things like "Tyrant," "Son of Pina," "Dark Blood Clan," "Rage of the Woodland," "Mad Giant"—Al could roughly tell these were beastmen titles for certain powerful monsters or clans. He was extremely cautious, always sending wolf packs and beastmen scouts to probe the terrain before the tribe advanced.
A tribe of nearly a thousand could not completely hide its movements. Along the way Al could constantly feel many eyes watching from the shadows and dense woods, waiting for the chance to tear off a mouthful of flesh from the tribe's body.
Even with the map's help it was difficult to avoid such situations.
The scouts he sent out also suffered considerable losses. Nearly a quarter casualties had already made them somewhat sluggish and resistant to scouting missions. But the Beastlord's authority remained: disobey and die, stray and die, obey and perhaps return alive to feast.
The migration was extremely long, and it was impossible to know where hope lay—perhaps the next second, perhaps much later.
The joy of subduing the river trolls was also diluted by the tedious and tense march. Still, Al's luck was good, or perhaps it was the protection of the Four Gods.
The scouts soon reported back—actually, Al had already seen it on the map.
About two kilometers from their position there was a river, and beside the river lay a stretch of plain.
A perfect gathering point!
Al once again concentrated the scouts and told them this would be today's final mission. The wolf packs and beastmen scouts rushed into the dense forest together and spread out around the river plain.
One by one, red and yellow dots representing neutral or threatening entities were revealed on the map and either killed or driven off.
Al pressed against the centaur girl's back and felt deeply satisfied.
They had a new home.
The Shepherd believers and rage-tainted beasts together felled large trees and brought them back to camp as lumber reserves. Goatmen and rabbitmen began unloading stored supplies and building temporary tents and camp structures.
The warriors could finally relax their tense nerves, then go logging, gathering, and building.
The river trolls were enclosed with simple fences in a patch of dense forest outside camp, guarded by minotaurs and centaurs to prevent them from slipping into the water.
With troll intelligence and sluggishness, however, they probably couldn't manage it anyway.
The river troll chieftain—the first to show submission to Al and a full size larger than the others—was pulled out by Al. It took him great effort to make the dull creature understand that Al wanted it to search for nearby swamps.
It seemed very curious about Al's red eyes. If given no other orders it would slowly follow at a distance behind Al and Alina. If they stopped, it would sit on the ground and stare blankly.
This one also had the strongest stench among the river trolls. Al wondered if they had a hierarchy based on smell.
So Al drove it into the woods. On his map the river troll chieftain already had a green dot while the others remained yellow, meaning it already belonged to his faction according to the All-Knowing One's blessing and would not easily betray him. Through the blessing Al could directly convey what he wanted it to do through his mind, without needing to struggle with words and gestures.
He would release it to graze first and have it act as the lead to subdue the other river trolls.
The camp's framework was gradually taking shape and growing.
Al could finally rest comfortably with the mare.
The first building completed in the entire tribe was naturally the Beastlord's personal house.
It was very crude, like an enlarged tent. Animal hides and some unknown fabric sealed the dome and sides and that was it.
Then came the warehouse and simple living quarters.
Supplies consisted mostly of cheese and jerky, along with some dried rations. There was a dehydrated fruit that looked a bit like raisins—very common and a favorite of the goatmen.
And some tools.
The attack had come too suddenly. Thar and the others could only travel light. Most supplies had been left behind, but at least the people were still alive.
Al and Alina had rushed the whole way. Although a Bloodmother's Chosen and an Eternal Champion were both full of energy and rarely felt fatigue, the mental strain still made Al want to sleep deeply.
After a full day of work, a camp of rudimentary scale had been built. (Beastman village ↑)
The surrounding forest had also been cleared once. Dangerous beasts were killed or driven away; those that could be tamed were captured and penned.
Alina took two squads of horned beastmen and wolfmen on a circuit around the area and brought back corpses of various wild beasts of all sizes. She also captured two solitary trolls, giving Al a new understanding of the forest's danger level.
These two ordinary trolls also showed curiosity and fear toward Al's eyes and were locked up with the river trolls.
Al returned to the tent and lay down. Alina lifted the tent flap and brought two goat girls to feed him milk.
Al hesitated for a billionth of a second. Before he could use the excuse that he was still a child, but now that he was bigger it felt rather despicable and bullying to hold a gentle goat girl and drink her milk.
The goat girls, however, were quite proactive. Al recognized one of them as the tall, beautiful goat mother he had locked eyes with when he met Thar in the Shepherd believers' camp.
She walked to Al's side, knelt gracefully, gently supported his head with her arm, then uncovered the animal-hide clothing over her chest.
Al stared at the soft, pink, delicate white flesh and the red fruit on top that he had already tasted. Saliva secreted uncontrollably.
He had drunk her milk before—she was already half a wet nurse.
He knew that in the 20th century, and even into the early 21st, such a role had existed.
What does it matter if I drink my own wet nurse's milk!
Alina lay down beside Al, tilted her face, and watched him bite the goat mother's breast and suckle. The goat girl's delicate, gentle face smiled as she lightly combed the boy's short hair.
The first day of the new tribe—after the hardship of breakout and the fatigue and annoyance of marching—was soothed in the goat girl's soft body and sweet goat milk.