The first time I came here, the village of the Botswana tribe looked like an African refugee camp. The homes were made of clay, just sturdy enough for basic shelter, and the people wandering around looked gaunt, with skin stretched tight over their bones. They had barely any livestock, making me question if they were even true pletely different from when we last visited,” I remarked.

    Chloe nodded, agreeing. “Yes, there’s a lot more livestock around, and the villagers look much healthier and happier.”

    Livestock like cows, pigs, and sheep don’t multiply as quickly as rabbits, so the population hadn’t exploded in just a few months. But the increase was noticeable, a sign that they were on a path to prosperity if things continued as they were.

    Soon, the Botswana tribal chief practically rushed over, reaching out to shake my hand the moment he saw me.

    “Welcome, Baron Pierre! It’s good to see you!”

    The alias Pierre was necessary to obscure Tuscany’s involvement in the conflict I’d instigated between the Kingdom of Granada and the governor of Nador.

    The traditional greeting here would typically involve spitting on the ground near the other’s feet, but extending a handshake instead was a testament to Abdullah’s efforts as my planted “loyal traitor.” He grinned at me as if eager to boast about his accomplishments.

    ‘Maybe I’ll reduce his remaining years of service here from five to four. If a traitor is useful, there’s no need to discard them.’

    “Good to see you too, Chief,” I responded.

    “Why so formal? We’re both chiefs in our own right, so just call me Malik,” he insisted.

    Since I’m a landholding noble, unlike those without estates who live off imperial pensions and gifts, it’s not technically wrong for him to call me a chief too.

    “Alright, Chief Malik.”

    “So, how have you been, Pierre?” he asked with a warm smile.

    “I’m getting married this year. I have a fiance?e,” I replied.

    While the Botswana didn’t ride horses and shoot arrows like the Mongols, they displayed the same mindset.

    “We positioned groups of twenty to forty warriors around them, hurling spears and shooting arrows from afar. We’d retreat quickly, causing minimal losses each time,” he explained.

    The Mongols did this on horseback, but the Botswana had managed the same tactics on foot—a testament to their skill.

    After three or four rounds, even a large army couldn’t maintain its formation. Some soldiers would inevitably break ranks.

    “At that point, we’d unleash a volley of musket fire, felling hundreds in one go, and then swoop in for the kill.”

    It was the exact same strategy used to hunt wild animals—anger and exhaust them until they collapsed from sheer fatigue.

    Malik shrugged, chuckling softly. “Of course, we couldn’t have managed without the muskets you provided. Without them, we couldn’t have delivered such a decisive blow once they were disorganized.”

    “I’m glad the muskets served you well.”

    “We’ve reclaimed a lot of lost territory, but there’s a shortage of muskets and gunpowder.”

    The governor of Nador could field a hundred thousand soldiers if needed, though such an extreme measure would bankrupt him.

    “I’ve brought eight times the quantity this time, with muskets, gunpowder, and bullets, all at the same price as before.”

    Small gains would cost me the bigger picture. We already made several times the manufacturing cost on each sale to the Botswana, so there was no point in raising prices and jeopardizing the deal.

    “By the way, could you gather the other chiefs of the allied tribes? I think it’s time to elect a Grand Chief.”

    I’d appoint him as the inaugural Grand Chief, taking only a reasonable cut of the profits.

    ‘More lenient than the British Empire, for sure.’