My Kingdom Building Done Right!-Chapter 72: Nipping A Threat In The Bud

The strongest tribes in the Borderlands lived in the south.

The reason for this was its lush environment. It was perfect for raising crops and rearing animals.

It was thanks to this that the high-ranking tribes enjoyed great growth for over a century.

But there was one region in the south everyone was fighting over. They called it Eden.

This place was being contested due to a critically important resource that served as the backbone of the high-ranking tribes.

This resource was none other than a dungeon.

They did not know how deep it was, but the deepest they had ventured was the 49th Floor.

Eden was jointly managed by the five high-ranking tribes, ruled by a Regent who gets replaced every ten years.

The position of regent was highly sought after, for the tribe that sat on that seat of honor received a forty‑percent share of the sales from materials taken out of the dungeon.

And for the past three decades, this seat was kept by the strongest tribe of the Borderlands, the Warclaw Tribe.

As such, many called their leader the Great Chieftain of the Borderlands, for he also aspired to unite all tribes and become the Barbarian King of the South.

However, the one recognized as the true Barbarian King ruled the western lands bordering the Kingdom of Britannia.

There was even a saying that once the Borderlands were united under one banner, a battle between the two Barbarian Kings for absolute hegemony was meant to commence.

Of course, there was also another possibility.

The two of them might form an alliance and attack the Kingdom of Britannia, splitting the lands between them if they emerged victorious.

But not many knew that no high-ranking tribe wished for the Warclaw Tribe to be the overlord of the Borderlands.

In fact, they were all sharpening their blades and axes for the upcoming tournament that would decide the next Regent of Eden.

When the time came, all the tribes in the Borderlands would be invited to go on a pilgrimage to Eden in order to witness this historic moment.

Of course, the middle-ranked tribes, as well as the low-ranking tribes, could also send their representatives to fight in the tournament.

But as if to make a statement and tell them they were not qualified, every representative they sent was killed in battle without any mercy.

If the high-ranking tribes fought each other, the loser would usually walk away with their life. After all, at the end of the day, managing Eden was a joint effort between them.

But the Warclaw Tribe’s ambition was starting to reach its peak. If they truly won the tournament that would take place in six months, no one in the Borderlands could stop them from uniting all the tribes under their banner.

As such, Hagen felt anxious. He was the Chieftain of the Grimhowl Tribe, which was considered the second strongest tribe in the Borderlands.

Their representative was strong, but they heard the warrior representing the Warclaw Tribe this year was stronger than anyone they had sent before.

Their warrior’s identity was highly confidential, and no amount of spying or prying from the other high-ranking tribes yielded any result.

Hagen was already feeling pressured by the upcoming tournament. But there was one more thing that made him feel anxious.

"Are you really going to Grimjaw Mountain, Gundar?" Hagen asked. "Must you really meddle with the pettiness of the middle-ranking tribes who are demanding tributes from the lower-ranking tribes?

"Besides, there are still six weeks before the promised time for paying tribute. Why go now when you can go later?"

The chieftain looked at his trusted advisor, the most powerful shaman in the Borderlands, with a wry smile on his face.

"I suddenly felt like doing bone reading last night, so I did it," Gundar replied. "And it told me to go look for old acquaintances in the east because I might find a pleasant surprise.

"So I plan to get there before the representatives of the middle-ranking tribes collect their tribute. Don’t worry, I’ll just stay there for a week and return afterwards."

"I’ll ask some warriors to serve as your escorts." Hagen sighed. "I can’t let you go on your own."

"There’s no need for that." Gundar shook his head. "I’ll be riding Soren to cut down the travel time. There’s no need for you to ask people to keep an eye on me. I can take care of myself."

The corner of the chieftain’s lips twitched. He really wanted to keep an eye on the old shaman. After all, he had always complained about being too old to handle the important affairs of their tribe alongside him.

"Fine." Hagen sighed. "Even if I stop you, you’ll still go, won’t you?"

"Of course," Gundar answered. "I’m already old. Shouldn’t this be a good time to see old acquaintances before I kick the bucket?"

"You’ve been saying that for the past twenty years, and you’re still here," Hagen reminded the old coot, showing he didn’t believe his nonsense. "I won’t be surprised if you outlive me."

"Well, look at the bright side." Gundar smiled. "At least, I’ll think of you once a year when you’re gone."

"You old codger!"

"One day, you’ll be as old as me too!"

Hagen sighed once more. "Just make sure to return after a week. No extensions!"

"Yes. Oh Great Chieftain of mine." Gundar made an exaggerated bow that made Hagen pinch the bridge of his nose from annoyance.

The chieftain really didn’t want to let his right-hand man leave during this crucial time. But if the old man really intended to go, no one in their tribe would be able to stop him, including their strongest warrior.

A few days later...

"It’s been a while since we last visited Grimjaw Mountain. Right, Soren?" Gundar asked his giant hawk, who screeched in reply.

A faint smile appeared on the old man’s face. There were a few things he had omitted when he told his chieftain about his bone reading.

When he cast the bones to make a divination, a vision of a small golden lion with blue eyes manifested before him.

The lion smiled faintly in a friendly manner, which made Gundar realize that somewhere in the east, a King had been born.

While the lion was still young and would take a few years to grow, a feeling of wanting to meet it blossomed in the old shaman’s heart.

Of course, if he divulged this news to his chieftain, it would definitely spread across the other tribes like wildfire.

They would then summon their armies to eliminate this potential rival, nipping the bud before they could grow and threaten the fragile balance of the barbarian tribes.

But Gundar didn’t do that. He wasn’t someone who made assumptions.

Because of this, he made a decision to go to the Grimjaw Mountain to meet this person himself.

Even if his chieftain stopped him, he would still go. He didn’t care about Hagen’s permission.

He had to see for himself whether this King was a righteous one or a Demon King who would endanger the lives of all the tribes in the Borderlands.

If he was a righteous king, he would offer him counsel and advice.

But if he were a Demon king... Gundar would nip him in the bud before he became a threat to the entire world.