Free Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3) by G. Akella Page B

treat from the head archeress. "Not with that beast you don't. But how will your men go on without horses?"
    I bit my lower lip to hold back a smile. In times of danger Gvert became grim and resolute, the kind of determined leader I saw when we fought together to save his village. It made for a stark contrast with the role of an obtuse peasant he was playing now. Stanislavsky would have been amused...
    "Are you trying to say my warriors are of equal worth as your horses?" I managed to force a frown.
    "No way! I refuse to be a horse!" Reece's voice came from behind me. "Well, if it's a boy horse, then maybe. They've got those, um... You know what I'm talking about, dar. But definitely not a girl horse, I don't care how pretty her mane is!" With those words, the mage gave Salta a sidelong glance and slipped behind Aritor's massive back.
    "What do you propose, dar?"
    "I have fourteen fighters. Every one of them needs a horse, and a spare one for carrying cargo. And have Skyle forge armor for all the horses, at least one set for each."
    "You want to take my pants while you're at it?!" breathless with indignation, Gvert pulled on his trousers at the knees, which made him look like a Red Army general from an old Soviet war film. "Or maybe throw a harness on me and have me plow the field?" He patted his upper back and spread his arms. "Fourteen horses. The metal for the armor is on you. And if anyone can actually turn that bigmouth into a horse," Gvert motioned at Reece, "I'll pay for the fifteenth set personally."
    "No, Gvert," I shook my head. "You caught a whole herd of horses, remember? And they're voracious eaters. I will not accept less than twenty. As for the metal, we'll provide everything the smith needs. I'll even assign Aritor to assist him."
    "You've got yourself a deal," the elder suddenly smiled. "Don't think we've forgotten that we owe you our lives. Take twenty horses now, and I'll give you eight more when we reach Farot—I just don't have enough yaks to pull all the carts."
     
    For the following two days, as the village prepared to evacuate, it was all hands on deck. Having assumed the role of treasurer, I must have spent a natural day in the clan vault, arranging and rearranging all that we had obtained thus far: weapons and equipment, reagents, consumables and materials for trade skills. More than once I was tempted to dump the responsibility on somebody else, but my clanmates were busy enough as it was.
    With the clan reaching level four, I had been given the option of selecting professions for my non-player subordinates. Alas, I hadn't realized this until after we'd returned to Ballan, so now I was playing catchup. While Aritor helped Master Skyle forge armor for our new mounts, and rare breastplates from defiled ore in Ballan's smithy, Iam, Surat and Hurd smelted heaps of common metal armor we'd gotten in Feator. Reece taught alchemy to Reena, and all the archers were busy crafting arrows—which, from our personal experience, you could never have too many of. Hagedia unraveled all the common cloth armor into fabrics and threads. As for the leather, I gifted it all to Gvert, and was glad to be rid of it, seeing absolutely no sense in lugging it all to Xantarra.
    Costing the clan about a thousand gold coins, the level four treasury looked like your typical warehouse. Filled with racks, shelves and cabinets of all shapes and sizes, it functioned much like players' private rooms. When first I laid eyes on the mountains of junk strewn about the place chaotically, I nearly suffered a stroke. Thankfully, as the saying goes, all things are difficult before they are easy—in the end I managed to whip the entire inventory into shape. And yet, at the end of that day I felt more exhausted than if I had battled all of Arkon's bosses put together, cementing my resolve to find someone to take over the role of quartermaster as quickly as possible.
    The figures, however, were a cause for optimism. We had stockpiled nearly