The houses of the Glavenus Tribe were all made of wood, constructed with Asterion's nest as the central hub. They sprawled along the path leading to the base of the Great Tree. After years of stable growth, the tribe had reached a population of roughly three to four thousand. It sounded like a lot, but given the sheer scale of the Great Tree, the village still looked a bit sparse.
These dwellings were either built into natural hollows within the tree or nestled in the crevices of massive branches. Though called "crevices," they were so vast they felt like solid ground. Over time, thick vines and wind-blown dust had accumulated, forming a layer of soil rich enough to support other flora.
Many small trees and various plants grew in this elevated earth, creating a literal forest within the canopy. Even as the number of Grimalkyne houses increased over the years, the surrounding greenery didn't diminish. It was clear they harvested timber from elsewhere and hauled it back, keeping their immediate living environment meticulously well-maintained.
Some houses hung from branches like woven baskets; others were perched directly between fork-points. Compared to what Asterion remembered, these staggered, multi-leveled homes looked like an intricate architectural model—quite artistic, actually.
The Heart of the Village: The "Moist-punk" Tower
Leaf was currently describing the tower-like structure in the center of the clearing. It was built of stone and sealed with mud. Three passages extended from the sides of this tower, cutting through the three main sectors of the settlement.
At the base of the tower was an opening about a meter high. It wasn't blocked off, allowing a clear view of the roaring fire inside. Every so often, a Grimalkyne would toss a log from a nearby pile into the flames.
"Growl." (I see.)
Asterion cut off Leaf's stuttering explanation. He already understood the purpose of the thing. It was essentially a giant clothes dryer. The burning wood released heat, and the constant fire kept this semi-enclosed area dry.
After all, these were members of the Protectors tribe who had migrated from the Wildspire Waste. They were fundamentally unsuited for an environment so damp that mushrooms grew on their living room walls. The three passages funneled heat to the outskirts, ensuring even the Grimalkynes living on the fringes had a comfortable home.
The hunters—or rather, the "cats"—had thought this through. A large bonfire in the open would have served a similar purpose, but it would have been inefficient. By using stone, they could store the thermal energy and maintain the temperature for much longer.
Furthermore, they had constructed a pool next to the tower. When Asterion arrived, he saw several Grimalkynes soaking inside with expressions of pure bliss. Of course, once they realized the "Glavenus Boss" had arrived, they scrambled out of the water at record speed.
Asterion watched these developments with genuine interest. Setting aside the environmental pollution from burning wood all year round, he felt the Grimalkynes were on the verge of starting something big with this tower as their center.
You couldn't call it Frostpunk... maybe Moist-punk?
Asterion felt like he was playing one of those civilization-builder idle games. Watching what these Grimalkynes could come up with was a top-tier form of entertainment.
Social Structure and Hierarchy
"Growl?" (How do you decide who lives on the outskirts?)
It was a practical question. Naturally, the closer you were to the tower, the warmer and drier it was—the ideal environment for the Protectors. This made it a premium resource.
With the population booming, limited resources usually led to social stratification, dividing the once-equal Grimalkynes. Asterion remembered when he first found this tribe; they only had divisions of labor, not status. The smartest or strongest who could protect the tribe and hunt food became the leader, but everyone ate the same food, lived together, and raised the kits communally.
But now? Asterion was curious.
"It's based on contribution to the tribe, meow," Leaf answered quickly. "The gifted ones who can understand the Bosses become Shamans, meow. We live in the houses closest to you, Boss. That's the best spot, meow."
Asterion's nest had a fire burning year-round, making it naturally dry. Living right next to it meant the Shamans received heat from both the nest and the tower.
Following Leaf's gesture, Asterion looked at the Shaman district. The houses there were indeed different, decorated with beautiful stones and intricate vine-work. The cats there were dressed more "mystically" too, wearing long robes that looked incredibly inconvenient for actual movement.
Asterion understood. Because of him, the highest class in the Glavenus Tribe was currently the clergy. In the eyes of the Grimalkynes, any cat capable of interpreting the words of the Glavenus Boss was the most capable and thus deserved the best lifestyle.
"Growl?" (Are there really that many Shamans?)
Asterion asked because there were quite a few houses in that area. It didn't match the number of Shamans he saw during the ceremony after his second Great Evolution; back then, there were fewer than ten cats in "mystic" gear. The talent to understand the language of monsters was extremely rare, even with the population explosion.
"Ah! It's not just us, meow!" Leaf jumped, her fur standing on end. She panicked, "The elderly live there too, meow! And the kits spend most of their time there, meow!"
"Growl?" (The kits aren't raised by their parents?)
"Oh, it's not like that, meow. They just learn there during the day," Leaf said, scratching her head. "We Shamans and the elders teach them there, meow. We tell them the history of the tribe, and specialized warriors come by to teach them hunting and gathering, meow."
So the Shaman district doubles as a retirement home and a school? Asterion noted.
"The kits go home at night, meow. But if their parents are out on patrol or gathering supplies, they stay with us temporarily," Leaf explained. "We can't have them running around, meow. It would be terrible if they fell off the tree or got snatched by a monster hiding on the fringes, meow."
"Growl. Growl?" (I see. What about the houses next to those?)
"Those are for your Guard, the Patrols, and the Gathering Teams, meow." Leaf pointed to a particularly stout Grimalkyne in the distance. "All the ones who grew big and strong like tanks live there, meow. They're responsible for everyone's safety—hunting and clearing out monsters that dare to prey on us!"
Leaf punched the air fiercely as she spoke.
Asterion usually only cleared out large monsters that got too close to the nest. Well, actually, he spent most of his time slacking off, but the Bazelgeuse brothers, the Kulu-Ya-Ku duo, and now the Acidic Glavenus and Mirrorblade did a good job of picking up his slack.
However, large monsters weren't the only threat. The forest was full of small monsters that ate cats—starting with the Jagras.
Unlike their leader, the Great Jagras, common Jagras moved in packs and were small enough to navigate vines and giant branches. They could reach places the Great Jagras couldn't. They were carnivores, and a lone Grimalkyne was a perfect snack.
The tribe had lost a lot of people during their original migration to the Great Tree. The Acidic Glavenus had driven off or killed the large threats, but the sheer abundance of small predators in the Ancient Forest had taught the Grimalkynes exactly how hostile the environment was.
And among those predators, the Jagras were just the most common ones.
"Growl?" (So the warriors and gatherers get the second-best spot?)
That seemed fair. In a place like the Ancient Forest, it was hard to say who had it tougher: the warriors protecting the home or the gatherers venturing out for resources. Both were high-risk, high-reward roles.
"Pretty much, meow," Leaf nodded. "The outermost circle is for the clumsy cats, meow. The ones who can't learn anything and are physically weak, meow. They stay in the village to haul things or build pretty things, meow."
Laborers. Got it, Asterion thought.
It seemed the Glavenus Tribe was truly stratified by ability while still caring for the old and young. It was almost an ideal society... he just wondered how long it would last.
"Growl?" (Does every cat live here?)
"Not exactly, meow," Leaf laughed awkwardly. "Some tribe members have adapted to the humidity, meow. They live further away... some even live by the water fishing all day, meow. They only come back occasionally to trade fish for supplies, meow."
She peeked at Asterion's expression. She couldn't tell if he was happy or angry. Technically, every Grimalkyne in the tribe owed him their loyalty; those living away from the village were essentially dodging their responsibilities.
"Growl. Growl?" (We even have hermits now?)
Asterion did a mental double-take. Truly, the larger the forest, the weirder the cats.
"Hermits? Meow, I wouldn't call them that, meow!" Leaf said quickly. "They still come to the village for the festivals, meow!"
She sighed in relief when she saw the Boss wasn't angry. She was much more nervous than the old Shaman; having been designated as the successor, she lived in constant fear of offending Asterion and bringing calamity upon the tribe.
She was overthinking it.
The current Asterion couldn't care less about individual cats. As long as the tribe kept cooking for him and keeping him entertained, he didn't care about the life or death of one or two Grimalkynes—a number that would only grow as the population increased.
He was content to treat this as a tribal observation game. A "set it and forget it" sim.
A few thousand cats sounded like a lot, but spread across the Great Tree, they were barely a blip. Many were currently out hunting or gathering. Still, the foundations of civilization were there. Asterion was eager to see what this culture, centered entirely around himself, would become.
"Oh! Boss, are you heading out again soon, meow?" Leaf suddenly asked.
"Growl?" (Why?)
"It's almost time for this year's Great Gormandizing Festival, meow!! A festival is only real if the Boss is there, meow! That's what the teacher says, meow." Leaf's ears drooped slightly. "But many of us younger cats have never seen you at a festival, meow. We're all very jealous of the older ones, meow."
"Growl. Growl." (I'll be there this time. When is it?)
"Next month, meow!!" Her ears shot up instantly. She did a little excited hop. "I'll tell everyone the good news!! Thank you, Boss, meow!!!"
"Growl." (Let's move on.)
Asterion remained calm, unlike the ecstatic Leaf. Her words just reminded him that he hadn't "shown his divinity" to the tribe in a while. He needed the new generation of kits to know just how great their Glavenus Boss was.
Power is the only way to keep cats in awe!
A Challenge from the Heir
"GROWL!!" (You finally showed your face! Father!!)
As Asterion was strolling through his territory, a thunderous roar interrupted Leaf's tour. Asterion turned to see Mirrorblade standing in the distance, glaring at him with pure hostility.
What is up with this kid?
And more surprisingly, Mirrorblade actually knew the word "Father."
"Growl?" (How do you know I'm your father?)
Asterion asked, genuinely curious, completely unaware he had just used a classic "deadbeat dad" line.
"Growl-growl!" (The Grimalkynes told me—wait, that's not the point! You're finally back!!)
"Growl. Growl?" (Yes, I'm back. And?)
Things were getting interesting. Asterion wanted to see what kind of drama his "son" was about to pull.
"GROWL!" (Fight me! I will defeat you and inherit your nest!!)
Are you Arthas?!
Asterion did a physical double-take. Was this really going straight to the "regicide" phase?
"Growl? Growl!" (What about your mother? You should know, right? We Glavenus are raised by our mothers. If you're going to inherit anything, it should be her nest.)
Asterion decided to clear things up before the brawl. He wasn't some deadbeat dragon, after all.
"GROWL!" (You aren't even a Glavenus!)
Mirrorblade seemed even angrier now.
"Growl." (Fair point. Those 'Ape-Dragons' call your kind 'Mirrorblade.' You aren't a Glavenus either—at least, not a normal one.)
It had been years since Asterion had such a fluid conversation with another living being. It was smooth, logical, and required no guessing. The vocabulary was deep, the sentences were long... as expected of his own spawn, the kid was much smarter than a normal dragon!
That just made Asterion want to mess with him more.
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