On the Sahara Grassland, more than 90% of the population relied on livestock for survival, primarily raising horses and sheep. In fact, nearly 30% of the warhorses of this era came from the Sahara Grassland.
Sheep were even more widely traded, reaching distant regions—but all of this depended on merchants for transportation. However, Perry's tribe was a beastkin tribe, and very few merchants dared to visit.
No, it would be more accurate to say that almost no merchants came at all. The few that did were small traders who bought in limited quantities. This was one of the main factors restricting her tribe's growth.
Because of this, Perry's tribe had to rely on self-sufficiency, trading only among themselves or with the occasional daring merchant who passed through. Their livestock numbers were high, but without a steady market, they often faced shortages of essential goods like salt, cloth, and metal tools.
Perry had long been aware of this issue. As one of the younger generation in the tribe, she often wondered if there was a way to break this cycle. Yet, the reputation of beastkin as fierce and untamed made outsiders wary, and even those who did trade with them charged exorbitant prices.
"Sigh..." Perry let out a soft sigh as she ate. Hunger was no longer a concern, but improving their quality of life was still a struggle—simply because they lacked the right trade channels.
She glanced down at the piece of mutton on her plate, smacked her lips, then turned to her maid and calmly asked, "Are we running out of salt in the tribe?"
"Yes," The maid nodded softly. "We've already been using it sparingly."
"Anything else we can live without—but not salt." Perry muttered, pulling a piece of rough cloth to wipe her hands. Salt had always been a major problem for her tribe.
"Your Highness, the last traveling merchant mentioned that the salt producing city ran into trouble. It was raided by pirates, and many salt fields were destroyed. Production won't recover until next year." The maid whispered.
"What about the other merchants?" Perry frowned, her voice turning cold. "Tell them we're willing to pay 50% more for salt."
"Well…" The maid hesitated, but under Perry's sharp gaze, she finally spoke. "They're asking for three times the usual price."
"What? Three times the price?" Perry abruptly stood up, her lion tail swishing behind her. Her eyes glared as she snapped, "Those damn humans—they're that greedy?"
"Yes," The maid sighed. "They want three times the price and only accept warhorses in exchange."
"Impossible! Don't even think about it." Perry waved her hand sharply, letting out a cold snort. "Those traveling merchants—forget about doing business with them in the future."
"Understood!" The maid responded immediately.
"Damn it…" Perry gritted her teeth, then slumped back into her seat. She pressed her slender fingers against her forehead. Salt was a serious issue—without it, her people would have no strength at all.
She had already learned this lesson through bitter experience. During her first winter in the Sahara Grasslands, she had been unprepared.
That winter, without enough salt, everyone became weak and exhausted. Then, another tribe attacked them. Even though they managed to repel the invaders, the cost had been devastating.
"Princess, there's more…," The maid reported cautiously. "We have too many draft horses and young lambs. If no one buys them by next spring, the grasslands won't have enough food for all the livestock."
"This..." Perry's hand, which had been pressing against her forehead, paused for a moment. Yet another bad piece of news. They had the supply but no buyers.
Right now, the sheep and draft horses were surviving on stored hay—something they had prepared a month before winter arrived. But hay alone wouldn't fatten the animals; it could only keep them from starving to death.
The lambs couldn't be slaughtered—they were the future food supply for Perry's tribe. If they had too few lambs now, by next year, there would be a shortage of sheep, leading to a critical food crisis.
But right now, they had too many lambs and draft horses. Killing them was out of the question. The only option was to sell some of them next spring to maintain the balance of the grassland ecosystem.
The real problem? No buyers.
The human merchants preferred to buy sheep and draft horses from human settlements rather than coming all the way to Perry's beastkin tribe.
"Princess, should we expand the grazing land next year?" The maid suggested in a serious tone. It was the only solution she could think of—war. If they launched attacks and conquered other tribes, they could take over their grazing lands. That way, they'd have enough grass to feed their animals.
"..." Perry closed her eyes in deep thought. Starting a war might solve the problem temporarily, but it wasn't a long-term solution.
The real issue was trade. If they could just get merchants to do business with them, they could exchange sheep and horses for currency—or better yet, for essential supplies like salt, cloth, iron tools, and pottery.
"The Sahara Grassland… Hasn't any major merchant come through recently?" Perry asked calmly. She had made up her mind—she would take the initiative.
"No," The maid replied. "During winter, merchants avoid traveling."
Perry fell silent.
She desperately needed a major merchant—someone who could buy up her sheep and draft horses in bulk.
As for warhorses? Those weren't for sale. Her tribe didn't have many to spare.
Of course, if the price was high enough, she might consider selling a few. But the real issue was human prejudice against beastkins. Merchants avoided her tribe, fearing they would be robbed.
"Spread the word." Perry's eyes gleamed. "Let it be known that our tribe has a large supply of sheep and draft horses. If anyone is interested, we're willing to sell them at a 20% discount."
She was out of options.
The neighboring Siacan Kingdom was her largest market, and if the humans refused to buy her sheep and horses, they would simply pile up with no way to sell them.
"Yes, Your Highness." The maid nodded.
"Huuh…" Perry let out a slow breath, waving her hand to dismiss the maid—she needed to be alone.
The maid bowed, carefully clearing the table before stepping out.
As the door closed, Perry reached into her cloak, pulling out a piece of beast hide—a treasure map given to her by her father.
He had told her:
"When you have the chance… when you have the power… seek out this treasure."
"Use it to rebuild the Valtoria Beastkin Kingdom."
"Father… I've let you down." Perry murmured, her voice hoarse.
She was brilliant in war, but when it came to governance, she was utterly lacking.
"If only Annie were here…" Perry sighed, carefully tucking the treasure map away.
"She would have handled everything—big and small—assigned the right people to their tasks, while I focused on fighting and protecting everyone."
But fate had scattered them all.
They never even got to say goodbye.
And now… she had no idea if she was even alive. She clenched her fists, pushing away the wave of regret that threatened to swallow her whole.
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