Al fished, slacked off along the way, but at the same time wasn't idle.
A Russian Tsar at the end of the 19th century once said: "While the Russian Tsar is fishing, Europe can wait."
Although he was actually talking to his own minister, it was still top-tier posturing among fishermen.
Al considered cosplaying that in the future.
The Minotaur girl was handling government affairs. The two scions accompanying Al were Simon of the Second Legion and Wind of the Third Legion.
The Gene Prima... Legion Masters of the "Mortal Watchers" and the "Sons of Al."
Al's four scions happened to be two boys and two... uh, one boy... uh...
The boy placed his fishing rod on the stand and turned his head to stare at his fourth child, a mixed-blood of a bunny Beastman and a Gor.
Wind Al.
Skin white with a hint of red, like peach blossoms; amber eyes that always sparkled with vigor; a cheerful little braid that never stopped swinging, matching its lively and active owner.
Beautiful, handsome, charming, dashing... a very complex aura, with an appearance close to Al himself but more androgynous.
Her personality was the most lively and cheerful among all the scions. She was very approachable, loved jumping around the tribe, and got along and communicated well with everyone.
My handsome daughter, my pretty son...
Wind had no Adam's apple, and her chest was perfectly flat. From appearance alone, it was very hard to tell his or her gender.
Even Al, the "father," frequently got confused.
The third child was currently lying on her stomach, boredly counting ants moving their colony, oblivious to her little father's gaze.
Her perky, perfectly round butt arched high
up, her slender waist... aside from lacking curves in the front, everything else looked very good, a body suitable for pounding into...
Pfft!
Al quickly shifted his gaze back to his fishing rod. Having fantasies about his own scion, how could he be such a wicked villain!
Suddenly, a stroke of inspiration hit him, and a certain fragment, a certain image from his memories surfaced.
He instantly felt it was a perfect fit.
"Ahem."
The little father wore a mask, so his scions couldn't see his expression, but both Wind lying on the ground and Simon, who was holding a book and silently reading beside his little father, immediately stood up, ready to receive orders.
"Um, Number Four..."
"Eh?" The person clearly didn't expect Al to call her. She tilted her head, curious.
She thought her little father was going to call Simon to handle some matter. She generally didn't manage things much; although she could still do it well, Wind's legion and tribe were relatively more decentralized compared to her eldest sister Misha, Simon, and Karen, because the Legion Master herself preferred to play and have fun.
Wind's talents manifested more in spellcasting and boosting morale. The Third Legion had the best and liveliest overall atmosphere.
Normally, Wind preferred drinking, music, and dancing—simply put, banquets filled with sensory pleasures.
"Hmm, I suddenly thought, do you want to be like Misha and consider changing your name again?"
Al proposed.
"Eh..." A conflicted look appeared on the handsome daughter's face. "But this is what you gave me, Father..."
"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter at all!" Al clapped his hands, accidentally dropping his fishing rod in his excitement. He hurriedly picked it back up, but the sudden disturbance probably scared the fish away again.
"It's similar to your original name, also meaning 'wind'. How about 'Barbatos'?" [Venti from Genshin Impact]
Al probed.
His third daughter thought for a moment, seeming to think it wasn't bad. She nodded and agreed: "Okay! Barbatos Al!"
Then she hugged her little father, cheek to cheek, nuzzled against the boy's mask, and then cheered and ran off to frolic somewhere else.
Probably off to share it with others.
Al watched the unceasing ripples on the water surface and sighed, though he still felt a little happy inside.
Turning his head, he saw Simon—with goat horns, fluffy and slightly messy hair, possessing a scholarly, academic aura—standing beside him, looking slightly conflicted.
"Father, I..." The young man, who looked almost more mature than Al, blushed, appearing somewhat embarrassed. "Should I get a new name too?"
The second child looked quite eager to try as well.
Misha and Wind—now Barbatos—had both been renamed by Al. Though the former was initially a meme reference and ended up getting a patch after her gender wasn't recognized, Wind was simply because Al felt it perfectly matched an image from his memories.
But looking at it now, this was being treated as a symbol of fatherly love.
Al thought for a moment. Although he felt it was unnecessary, he still picked a name from his memories.
"How about Kael'thas?" [WoW reference]
"The meaning... chasing the sun."
Al casually grabbed another name. In his memory, it was a character from a classic game made by a company that went defunct in the mid-21st century.
Simon was very happy.
From now on, he would be called Kael'thas Simon Al.
However, the second son's emotions weren't as outwardly expressive as the third daughter raised as a son. He merely bowed politely, his joy evident on his face.
Sometimes Al actually felt quite ashamed. He felt he didn't act like a father; at the very least, he did less for his scions than the foster care institutions had done for him in the past.
Al gave them power, but the price was that from then on, they would forever serve their shared father, obey Al's commands, and step onto the battlefield. Yet their fanaticism and sense of loyalty toward Al still looked so dazzling and fervent even now.
The diplomats of the Vanguard Legion came again. This was the third time this week. They kept tentatively urging Al, hoping the tribe would provide assistance for their "troop recruitment and army building." At the very least, they needed the tribe's help to transmit the recruitment order to the various scattered settlements. They also needed the tribe to provide supplies and guides so the personnel could move and assemble effectively.
Al intentionally created barriers and mutual misunderstandings between the Vanguard Legion and the refugees. He restricted the former's operational range. So as not to anger this "Beastlord" who was said to be "as grudge-holding and face-saving as a Dwarf," they obeyed perfectly. The three-thousand-man unit's operational range was limited to the area around the grounds Al had demarcated for them.
However, because they were close to the main tribal camp, they could interact with the tribespeople and refugees, so it wasn't too dull. At least it was better than marching for days on end through uninhabited wilderness and woodlands.
Therefore, up until now, the Vanguard Legion only knew that the tribe and the refugees were short on food, but they didn't know exactly how severe the situation was.
With the corrupt elites diligently causing chaos, although it hadn't reached the point of people starving to death, looking malnourished and having demoralized populations were common sights in the settlements; only the main tribal camp was slightly better off.
If the tribe suddenly turned hostile right now and wanted to sacrifice blood to the Bloodmother, slaughtering the refugees, it probably wouldn't even stir up much resistance.
Al turned a blind eye to the corruption of the elites, effectively indulging the desires in their hearts. Under the influence of the power of Revelry, this group of people was gradually marching toward lawlessness. Based on the evidence Al had collected, it had pretty much reached the point where hanging them all wouldn't be excessive.
And the Vanguard Legion still
optimistically believed that although there might be slight difficulties with supplies, as long as their tribal allies were willing to strongly support them, their second step could still be taken easily.
As for the corrupt elites, although they were all scum right now, their brains weren't completely broken yet. The tribe and the Kingdom were the two biggest powers—they hadn't forgotten the logic that whoever is closest and has the hardest fist is the biggest.
They were also willing to cooperate with the Northern Council's orders, acting as if they were working very hard and responsibly. Even though I embezzled food, making everyone go hungry, and am debauched, taking my lackeys to party every night and bully men and women, I am still a capable and loyal minister of the Kingdom!
So they all patted their chests, assuring their superiors in the Vanguard Legion: We will do our best with manpower, we will do our best with food! We will absolutely complete the Kingdom's orders! For the Goddess, for the Kingdom, for honor!
Al knew this perfectly well, but turned a blind eye to it.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the Vanguard Legion and the refugee elites to unite and push the refugees—whose numbers and strength far exceeded the two combined—to the point where they could bear it no longer.
Then, with thunderous momentum!
Exterminate the pests!
Win their hearts!
He wasn't very interested in conversing with the envoy, even though the latter was an excellent diplomat who had visited Ulthuan and the Altdorf Court, and was quite renowned. He left the matter to his scions to handle; Simon (Kael'thas) was very good at this kind of business.
Shouldering his fishing rod and sitting in Alestar's palm, he headed back to the tribe.
On the way, he also saw the envoy's attendants carrying boxes large and small trailing along the road. The group also included a few heavily made-up women, each with massive, plump breasts, looking like they had specifically done their research and planned to cater to Al's tastes.
Seeing the main target heading back in the opposite direction at this moment, they froze in place, unsure whether to continue forward and follow their leader or approach him right then and there. However, Al ignored them and went back with the Minotaur Commander on his own.
Calculating the time.
It's about time.