The tribe did not sleep easily the night the council chose talk over hiding.
Talking was dangerous.
Talking was exposing.
Talking was choosing a future instead of waiting for one.
But it was the only choice that let us keep more than fear.
Preparation for Contact
Baba did not treat the coming meeting as conversation.
He treated it as mission.
The cohort trained at dawn — not in combat, but in presentation.
We practiced:
• standing still
• speaking clearly
• answering only what was asked
• showing no fear
• showing no awe
• showing no desperation
Not because Payan could smell fear, but because power could.
Tulli and Ren practiced carrying objects in clay bowls without spilling. Haniwa and Talli practiced describing herbs and seeds. Tullen practiced naming animals by tracks.
I practiced something different:
Silence.
Because silence was power when used correctly.
The Question of Gifts
Every embassy in history began with offerings.
Tribute if you were weak.
Gifts if you were strong.
Samples if you were cautious.
An elder asked Baba, "What do we offer Payan?"
Baba looked at the clay tablets the rescued children had made.
"Knowledge," he said.
The elder frowned. "Knowledge is not food."
"No," Baba said. "It is worth more."
Because knowledge multiplied.
Food disappeared.
But the council insisted on tangible trade as well.
So offerings became threefold:
Clay tablets of mapped hunting grounds
Herbs that stopped bleeding
Furs for warmth
Not impressive.
Not humiliating.
Just real.
The Journey Begins
We left at first light — not with warriors, but with representatives.
The contact team:
• Baba Voss — First speaker and guard
• Haniwa — Herb knowledge
• Tulli — Measurements and numbers
• Me — Eyes and negotiation
• Tallen — Tracking and terrain explanation
• Two hunters — Witnesses / Negotiators
No slavers.
No women as currency.
No children as tribute.
The elders watched us leave with thin faces and tight lips. The white-haired elder whispered as we passed her:
"Do not kneel."
Baba nodded once.
The Gate Again
The Payan outpost was as we had left it — crates stacked, bowls of coins, horses stamping dirt.
But now we approached openly.
We walked until the hunters tapped their spears on the ground — announcing presence.
The blind guards tilted their heads; the sighted lifted weapons.
The captain — the same from the sect execution — strode forward.
He looked at us the way farmers looked at unfamiliar tools.
Curious. Evaluating. Cold.
He spoke first — not hostile, not welcoming:
"Halt."
We halted.
He studied Baba, then the children, then the bowls of goods.
Then he said a word we had never heard directed at us:
"Purpose?"
Not "Name?"
Not "Tribe?"
Not "Trade?"
But purpose — the language of administration.
Baba straightened.
"Talk."
The captain raised an eyebrow.
"With who?"
Baba answered calmly:
"With those who decide."
The captain nodded without expression and turned to one of his soldiers.
"Fetch."
The soldier ran north along the road.
Not long after, a rider returned — not soldier, not captain.
A man in gray robes with clean hands and a wax slate.
A scribe.
Not king.
Not priest.
Not warrior.
A functionary.
He stepped off his horse and approached Baba.
He did not bow.
He did not threaten.
He asked:
"Which tribe speaks?"
Baba answered:
"Alkenny."
The scribe tapped symbols onto his slate.
"Reason for contact?"
Baba gestured to the children and the bowls.
"Offering."
The scribe studied the contents with a detached calm.
He lifted one clay tablet and ran fingers across the grooves.
"You record rivers and trees?"
"Yes."
"You record borders?"
"Yes."
"You record animals?"
"Yes."
"You can record men?"
Baba looked at me.
"Yes," I said.
The scribe paused — not offended, not impressed — simply updating his internal model.
Payment
Then the scribe asked:
"Coin?"
We said nothing.
Because we had none.
The scribe sighed through his nose — not angry, not insulted — just adjusting procedure.
"First contact exempt," he said. "By decree."
And he gestured us through the gate without payment.
The captain lifted the barrier and the children of hunters walked through something no Alkenny had ever passed:
A border.
The System chimed:
Milestone: First Diplomatic Entry
Status: Successful
Tribute Paid: None (Exempt)
Faction Reaction: Curious
The cohort stared down the road beyond the gate.
The world widened.
📜 ARC STATUS SCREEN — End of Arc 1 "Year of Purpose"
[Sovereign Profile]
Name: Kofun
Age: 3
Role: Sovereign Seed / Scout / Envoy (Emerging)
Status: Active
Traits: Dual Perception (Lv.1)
Tactical Insight (Lv.1)
Early Instruction (Lv.1)
Initiative (Seed)
Unique: Sighted (Hidden)
System Interface (Hidden)
Retainers:
• Baba Voss — General & First Envoy (Bound)
Cohort: Children of the Hunt (6 members)
Role: Scouts → Envoys (Forming)
Alkenny Tribe:
Population: 57 + 4 rescued
Tech: Kiln, Clay Tablets (Primitive)
Politics: Council Consensus / Non-Centralized
Known External Factions:
• Valley Slavers — Hostile
• Ember Tongue Sect — Defeated (Payan)
• Payan Outpost — Neutral / Bureaucratic
• Payan State (Implied) — Order-Oriented, Expansionist
Diplomatic Path: Service / Leverage (Chosen)
Military Status: None (Zero Army)
Economic Status: No Currency / No Tribute
Arc Outcome:
• First Observation (Success)
• First Contact (Success)
• No Submission / No Conflict
• State Interest Triggered