Chapter 49: A Spicy Situation
Conflict between fellow community members is inevitable in any society. The reasons can vary quite a bit, but in ancient societies, things were far less nuanced.
Aside from the occasional minor resentment from having your meat stolen by some selfish asshole, many more major conflicts occur as a result of survival dynamics. Ancient humans didn’t have the luxury of neglecting their own safety and continued survival.
That kind of nuance was something you’d expect from a more advanced era, once technology really started rolling in. For the moment, primitive academics were reserved for people in power, who would utilize this knowledge to full effect. In Elynthys’s case, this meant tribal chieftains and shamans.
The educated elite among the tribesmen would serve as the proto-forms of the ruling class. One ruled through enlightenment, the other through sheer charisma. While the shamans were in charge of teaching knowledge necessary for survival to the young hunters, it was usually the chieftain’s job to unite the tribe.
That isn’t to say one role can’t do the other, however. To young hunters, the shamans were closer figures to them than the tribal chief could ever be. Many even saw shamans as father-like figures who helped guide young men on the right path.
For these reasons, they possessed more influence than one might expect, but they did little to make use of that influence… until today.
“It seems that Snide did not care to take my advice to heart. I have always thought him to be quite the clever man, but never did I think that he would pull such a feat as this. Truly, a schemer with no equal."
Nova’k said this with a frustrated look, some milk and spicy ramyun broth still on his lips.
Although many modern people have little respect or concern for this aspect of society on Earth today, education is in fact an important cornerstone of society. This emphasis should be on education itself, not the corrupt institutions that often abuse it for personal gain.
Many of the smarter—perhaps even more devious—figures in history knew how to use education to their advantage.
Teach your people who their enemies are, and they will fight to ensure the safety of their lives and people.
Teach them your thoughts are theirs, and they will always be with you.
Teach them never to question their own thoughts, and they will never listen to anyone else.
Many modern figures still practice this today, in some more subtle and even dangerous forms. Particularly, politicians looking to upset the social balance of things to maintain both their own positions and those of their collaborators.
What’s important to note is that it can be used as a weapon to direct resentment onto others, which is what Snide seems to be doing. The control of thought is an invisible weapon, far deadlier than any conventional one, and Snide was exploiting it to the fullest by leveraging existing resentment towards the gnomes.
“Why go this far, though? Is this not too excessive? What good is there to possibly gain out of this?”
“The story is a bit long, but if you are willing to listen, I would be happy to oblige.”
“... Before you continue—could you wipe the milk and ramyun off your face real quick? You can use this cloth if you need to.”
“Oh, thank you. Now, where was I again?”
Nova’k recounted the tale of his younger years, when he was but a boy, and Snide was still just a young man. The story was quite long, but the short of it was that Snide had lost his lover to famine and illness, and directed the blame onto the gnomes, who ate more than the others in the village.
Nova’k and Snide had been close in their youth, so watching Snide spiral into madness after the loss of Lune—Nova’k’s sister and Snide’s lover—only sharpened Nova’k’s own grief.
“I had been out hunting when it happened. I only learned the news after I returned. It was an unbearably sorrowful day. What made it more frustrating was that just weeks after Lune’s death, the drought began to break. Had she held on a little longer, there might still have been a chance to save her."
What became evident from Nova’k’s account was that the problem was twofold. Setting aside Snide’s personal resentment toward the gnomes—fueled by his belief that they should have rationed more strictly to preserve the weaker among them—there was also a deeper, systemic issue at play.
The role of gnomes in primitive Starfell society was an awfully ambiguous one when they still hung around the town often. They weren’t good for crude physical labor, so farming and hunting were difficult. While they were great at finding things and hiding with their small frame, that didn’t make them good rangers either.
Stringing a bow needed strength. Strength that the gnomes lacked. Slings needed even more skill. Skill that the gnomes couldn’t quite put to use with their stubby arms. They weren’t fast either, because of their stubby legs, so they’d often get in the way when escaping dangerous beasts.
As far as the humans of Starfell were concerned at the time, they might as well have been dead weight. Their crafting talents would only be discovered recently by us, when we had made them into human factories for spell stones.
His father, still distraught over the loss of his sister and driven into senility, relinquished leadership early, forcing Nova’k into power as soon as he came of age. This was rare, as most chieftains were expected to prove themselves as the tribe’s strongest hunter before earning acceptance as its leader.
However, with the Fallen Star gone, the title of the tribe’s strongest naturally fell into Nova’k’s lap.
Nova’k was already the second strongest in the tribe by the time this happened, so there was little opposition to this transition of power. The few who did oppose his rule were those who found it unfair that the role was passed down from father to son.
Shortly after coming into power, he began quietly encouraging the gnomes’ silent expulsion from Starfell. Through subtle means, he sowed minor discord among his people, promoting the idea that the gnomes were little more than sickly and useless, until they were driven to leave on their own—an effort that gave rise to the now-common term ‘the afflicted ones'.
He believed that, to ensure the land could withstand future famines, he had to ‘trim the fat’ that weakened society’s ability to survive. To that end, he drew a clear line within Starfell, ensuring that only those he deemed effective would take priority within the town.
“... That is vile. A pragmatic choice to be sure, but also a heartless one.”
“You are correct. But I do not regret the choices I made. They were born of concern for Starfell’s continued stability. I believe that softer measures, like those my father favored, would only hasten this town’s demise in more dire times.
Preventing such a future is my prerogative—and my responsibility. As our numbers grow, so too does the strain on our society’s foundation. That weight must be borne of muscle, not fat."
Sometimes, the most effective choices in governance are the most cruel and heartless. Not to trivialize the situation, but if I were to liken things to Dark Worlds, it could be explained like this:
Pawns in Dark Worlds have their pluses and negatives. Each pawn either has traits that would make them ideal recruits to a colony, or negative traits that would make them a burden on your colony that you might not want the colony to bear. This can be anything from more personal traits, illnesses, and even racial traits, though I think XYZ would have a fit over that last one.
Gnomes were effectively pawns that would not fare well in a less technologically advanced era of society on their own. There was little they could provide physically in combat and labor, and it was a mystery why they were such a strain on food reserves when they were physically ill-suited.
They’d be more suitable as crafters in society than anything else, since they seem to do pretty well with their stubby little hands. It’s like they were hyper-specialized into this role, which makes me grow even more curious about the meteor that resulted in their birth to begin with—but crafters weren’t highly valued in primitive society.
That is why, if you decided to run a primitive playthrough, chances are you wouldn’t consider including them among the ranks. Individuals who did better physically, or had abilities that could eclipse others in combat, like the ability to breathe flames or spit acid, would be valued higher.
After the lengthy discussion, Nova’k bowed his head in apology.
“I sincerely apologize for the extreme rudeness that my people have shown your group, especially after the gifts you have provided to Starfell and this wonderful sword you have given me. I promise you that there shall be reparations for their show of unjust violent force.”
“I appreciate hearing that. Yet I am curious to see how you intend to address this matter going forward. Surely, it cannot be allowed to continue. I can only imagine that more trouble will arise with Snide leading young hearts astray.”
“You are wiser than most, visitor. I will act to reclaim the loyalty of Starfell’s young men, though I know it will be no easy task given how deeply Snide’s influence has taken root. Now, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave—I cannot be away from my post for long."
Nova’k suddenly stood up and turned around, his body pointed in the direction of Starfell. But before leaving, he turned back one last time to make one last request.
“Oh… And, if you could perhaps provide me more of that ‘instant ramyun’, I could later repay you with some of our town’s finest crafts. Perhaps you would favor a strong hide cloak?”
“... Knock yourself out, bro. We’ve got more where that came from.”
“Thank you for your boundless patience with me, visitor. I could learn from your example."
And just like that, he left, taking with him a pile of spicy ramyun noodle cups. We also gave him some bottles of milk to go with them as extra service. Nova’k appreciated this deeply.
I couldn’t help but let out a sigh after Nova’k left. Not because I was missing all those instant ramyun, but because of how complex the situation had become.
If this were a game, a few simple clicks could stop this growing group of gnomephobes. Had I not met the people of Starfell and the gnomes of Gnomewood in person, with only a screen between us, I wouldn’t hesitate to forcibly remove these seeds of discord before they take root.
This is reality, not a game, though. Both groups may very well be victims of this game of survival that is natural selection.
“...”
Looks like Esphera’s still a little shaken up. While this ought to be a bump every deity crosses eventually, it’s always difficult to swallow the fact that their own worshippers would be so willing to commit such atrocious acts of violence for the first time.
No, perhaps calling the gnomes ‘their own’ would be incorrect. They have already been systematically detached from Starfell society for some time now, forced to live among themselves in Gnomewood
It was clear to anyone that this wasn’t a situation that could be resolved cleanly. Not by any normal means. I’m sure Esphera understood that, but all of this was still too difficult a pill to swallow.
“Esphera.”
“... Yes, Lord Yvell?”
“I hope that you do not grow too disillusioned with your worshippers. For a long time, they will be forced to play a game of survival, and they will be forced to make heartless choices, and sometimes irrational ones. While they are accountable for their own actions, do not forget that mortals will always be victims of circumstances beyond their control.”
“But Lord Yvell… Is this not too cruel? Is it not possible to create a world where they could all get along? How could they do such… horrid things?"
Esphera asked while lightly brushing a hand against Tumble’s badly bruised skin.
Her question was one I couldn’t answer lightly.
Even Earth was still far from reaching such an ideal situation as global unity. There are simply far too many cultures that cannot mesh together neatly, due to the significant differences between people.
Hell, there were even still some cannibal tribes persisting to modern day, for example, and nobody would want those chilling in society. I think that “bad vibes” would be the least of people’s concerns there.
“Time will tell once civilizations develop further, Esphera. For now, we must do what we can to ensure that your people move in the direction you want them to.”
“How… do we do that?”
“We do have a few options. But let us focus on our first problem at hand. That is, our tiny friend right here."
I pulled out a spell stone from my pocket. It was a spell stone with a few meager functions, but they’d do well enough for what I had in mind. Then, I turned my head to Tumble, who was resting on a sleeping bag and had been covered with a blanket.
“Looks like we’ll have more use for LifeMakerUI.exe yet. Now, I wonder what his stats look like?"
I guess being a colony sim gamer has more merit to it than I first thought.
