Chapter 29: Chapter 29: The Weight of a Provider
"And what if I want to hear them?!" said Maya.
The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Mila’s mother blinked in surprise, and even Mila lifted her head, her face blank with confusion. Maya’s cheeks flushed bright red as she waved her hands in the air trying to backtrack.
"I mean—that is not what I meant!" said Maya. "It just slipped out! I was talking about his safety!"
"We will not be moving into either of your huts," said Kellar.
Kellar stepped between the two arguing women, his voice calm, heavy, and leaving no room for debate. Both matriarchs fell silent, turning their attention to him.
"If you want, you can both come live with us," said Kellar. "I am going to build a proper, dignified house for my women. From this day forward, I will be the man of this household, and I will protect all of you."
Kellar spoke with sincerity, his mind focused on survival, resources, and the calculations of the tribal system rather than any lust. To him, it was a matter of logistics and duty.
Mila’s mother took a slow step toward him. Without a shred of hesitation, she reached down and gripped Kellar’s cock right through his thick leather trousers, squeezing the heavy weight of his length to measure his worth. Her eyes widened, scanning his broad shoulders with a mixture of intense shock and growing respect as she released her grip.
"Are you certain you can handle all of us, boy?" said Mila’s mother.
Behind him, Mila let out a soft sigh of pure relief, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Kellar’s waist from behind, pressing her cheek against his back.
"Thank you, Kellar," said Mila.
For the women of the northern tribes, Kellar’s declaration wasn’t strange or scandalous in the slightest; it was the ultimate blessing. Able-bodied men were scarce in the freezing wilderness. With hunters dying daily in brutal skirmishes and lethal winter hunts, the clan was populated by widows and fatherless households. Women needed men not just for survival, but to conceive the next generation of warriors to keep the bloodlines alive.
In this harsh society, families used their youngest, most beautiful daughters as bait just to lure a strong hunter into their domestic circle. The old tribal proverb held absolute truth: "A man in the house is a blessing for the entire family."
Finding a young, powerful warrior willingly offering to take the burden of protecting his mother-in-law and his aunt was unheard of. Most men avoided the extra mouths to feed. In a brutal world where even fucking functioned as a currency, desperate women within the same extended family would trade their resources just to be bedded a single time, praying to catch a strong warrior’s seed and secure their future. Kellar had just offered them everything without asking for a single thing in return.
Kellar stood still for a brief second, overwhelmed by the shameless, aggressive grip of his mother-in-law. Yet, as he glanced down, he noticed that neither Maya nor Mila seemed shocked or bothered by the older woman’s bold evaluation. Accepting the raw, unfiltered reality of the tribe, Kellar embraced the moment. He reached out, grabbed his aunt by the shoulder, and pulled all three women into a tight, firm hug against his broad chest.
"There is no doubt in my mind," said Kellar.
Mila looked up from his back, her eyes fixed on his profile.
"Where will we live then?" said Mila.
Kellar had already been calculating that exact problem on his way back through the freezing woods. He needed a strategic location—somewhat isolated and hidden from the prying eyes of the clan’s corrupt elders—where he could safely test his technology points, harness his system, and grow his strength in silence.
"Tell us what you have planned, boy," said Mila’s mother. "Every household with an official hunter must contribute a monthly tribute. It amounts to the equivalent of three hundred and fifty kilograms of meat, or a whole young wild boar. If you cannot hunt enough beasts, you can pay the balance in labor, gathered fruits, vegetables, or anything else edible."
"What do the two of you currently contribute?" said Kellar.
"I spend my days gathering winter berries along the safe perimeter of the village," said Maya. "I also take whatever odd sewing or tanning jobs the other households offer. The hunter’s tribute doesn’t apply to us. It only targets the men declared as active hunters. Unranked men only pay a small tribute of ten kilos of food, and women without a bonded mate pay nothing at all, surviving on the clan’s basic welfare handouts."
Kellar remained silent processing the information as his modern mind evaluated the tribal logistics. For a primitive society, the economic structure didn’t sound terrible. At first, he had assumed a mandatory three hundred and fifty kilograms of meat per hunter was a massive scam designed to fatten up the clan leaders. But hearing the full breakdown, he realized the system was actually designed to feed the vulnerable.
He remembered how Maya would go out every single day just to bring home a meager handful of scraps. The tribe was vast, and while each dependent family only received a tiny portion of meat daily, the aggregate numbers required to feed hundreds of widows, children, and elderly unranked members was massive. When calculated across the entire population, the heavy hunter’s tax suddenly sounded far more balanced and necessary for their collective survival.
"Of course, corruption ran deep through the system", Kellar noted.
He didn’t say the words aloud, but the thought settled bitterly in his mind. The close relatives and personal friends of the elders always received the best cuts of meat and the thickest furs. When it came time to distribute the collective stores, the men in charge of the warehouses—who were all hand-picked lackeys of the leadership and the high-ranking hunters hoarded the largest portions for themselves. They left the scraps and tough, half-spoiled gristle for the unprotected widows, and offered even worse to the helpless elders, who could manage to survive through the harsh winter nights on such pathetic leftovers.
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