Reborn As A Beastman With A System

After touring the forging shop and the manufacturing workshop, Logan expressed his desire to explore the animal pen next.

"Lord Chief..."

At that moment, Quinn caught Logan's attention, appearing hesitant.

Logan turned to him with a puzzled look, "Is there something on your mind regarding Uncle Quinn?"

"Just speak freely. I recall Uncle Quinn is usually quite direct."

Logan encouraged him with a warm smile.

Acknowledging the prompt, Quinn nodded, reached into his cloak, and pulled out a folded item, which he then handed over to Logan.

As Logan unfolded the item and scrutinized it, his expression turned to one of curiosity. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" he asked, holding up the parchment.

It was a design of a bed crossbow, but Logan was puzzled as to why Quinn would return these blueprints to him now.

"Exactly, do you have more items like this?" Quinn asked, pointing to the parchment.

"You mean, more designs?" Logan queried, still unclear.

"No, I'm referring to the material this is written on. It's very soft, much easier to write on than animal skin," Quinn explained, his interest evident.

"You're talking about...paper?" Logan realized suddenly, recognizing that the design was indeed recorded on paper, a material extracted from their system, and something he had overlooked.

This realization struck him with its significance. This might very well be the first piece of paper in this world.

In this world, writing materials were limited to animal skins and the bark of a specific tree. While the bark was softer and more readable than animal hides, it was a rare commodity, often reserved for the use of human nobility due to its cost.

By contrast, animal skins were the conventional medium for recording information.

Quinn's interest in paper seemed to open up a new realm of possibilities. Could this simple yet revolutionary material change how they documented and shared knowledge in their world?

In their world, the conventional mediums for writing were animal skins and the bark of a specific tree. While tree bark was softer and more refined than skins and used by the elite, it was a luxury not all could afford. Paper, on the other hand, represented a revolutionary and accessible alternative.

"Yes, paper," Quinn confirmed, his eyes bright with the possibilities this new writing surface held.

Quinn's interest in paper caught Logan off guard. It was rare to see the discerning werewolf taken by surprise, and yet here he was, captivated by a simple sheet of paper.

"No more left, I'm afraid," Logan said with a shake of his head, noting the flicker of disappointment in Quinn's eyes.

Quinn's fascination with the paper was evident; even the prized tree bark, once a revered writing material, now seemed inferior. He realized that paper, though appearing ordinary, must be an exceptional commodity if it was so scarce.

"But you can make it yourself," Logan reassured him with a smile, catching the spark of hope that lit up Quinn's eyes. "With the right knowledge, you can produce as much as you need."

Quinn's expression shifted from dismay to intrigue. "Can it truly be made? On a large scale?"

"Yes, it can be manufactured," Logan confirmed, and with a gesture, a diagram appeared in his hand. "This document outlines the ancient method of papermaking. Give it a try!"

Quinn took the paper drawing, his surprise evident. "This is it? You really do have a solution for everything," he remarked, a tone of respect threading through his voice.

As Quinn studied the detailed papermaking instructions, Logan prepared to leave the workshop. He glanced back briefly, noting Quinn's deep concentration. The old method outlined would take at least three months to master, a significant investment of time, but potentially revolutionary.

Logan knew that introducing paper into their world was more than just convenience; it represented a lucrative business opportunity. In a land without paper, the ability to produce it could transform economies and information sharing, laying the foundation for a new age of enlightenment and profit.

After inspecting the workshop, Logan made his way to the animal pen and surveyed the newly cultivated fields that stretched under the afternoon sun. His steps took him through familiar paths, and by the time he returned home, the day had aged into the warm hues of late afternoon.

The house buzzed with activity upon his arrival. Logan had earlier informed his uncle Begon of his visit, sparking a gathering that filled the halls with life and noise. His grandfather Barnett's prolific legacy included sixteen sons and four daughters, though not all had survived the trials of their youth, three sons and two daughters succumbed to illness early in their lives.

The trials for those who reached adulthood were no less harsh. Of Grandpa Barnett's ten adult sons, seven had fallen in battle under his long tenure as chief, while three were marked as missing. In a world that was as rewarding as it was ruthless, the strong thrived, exploring its vast mysteries, while the weak often met untimely ends.

The missing uncles, not known for their strength, were long assumed dead, their prolonged absence speaking louder than any hopeful whisper.

His father, uncle Begon, and uncle Reynolds had all ventured beyond the tribal lands in their youth, each spending varying lengths of time abroad, gaining wisdom and experience that set them apart from others in the tribe.

Of his two adult aunts, one had been married off to another tribe, a tribe that was now nothing but a memory, erased from the present. Her fate, like that of the missing uncles, was a mix of hope and grim acceptance. The other aunt had wed a beastman from within the tribe, and by the laws of the Silvermane, she had left her birth family to become part of her husband's.

Logan seldom saw her now, as marriage had drawn her away from the daily life of her own kin.

Despite the deaths of seven uncles in war, they had left behind a new generation. Four of the fallen had families, ensuring that Logan was never short of younger kin. The air was always filled with the voices of over a dozen siblings and dozens of cousins, the frequent calls of "eldest brother" enough to make anyone's head spin.

Seeking respite, Logan headed to the kitchen, where his mother, second mother, and about ten of his aunts were bustling about. Laughter and chatter filled the room, a testament to the spacious kitchen that accommodated them all. Here, in the heart of his family's home, Logan found the familiar chaos that grounded him in his lineage and responsibilities.

As Logan exchanged pleasantries with Jean, whose face was alight with uncontained joy, she noticed Logan's expression soften into a warm smile before she gracefully exited the room.

Upon leaving the bustling kitchen, Logan found himself momentarily adrift in aimlessness. Outside, a lively clamor rose as a band of children played; despite being their elder brother, joining in their games was a joy he felt distanced from due to his role as the clan's chief.

Dispelling any need for the stern facade of a big brother or the solemnity expected of his title, Logan was contemplating his next move when his uncles, Begon and Reynolds, approached him.

"Greetings, Uncle Begon and Uncle Reynolds! You've arrived quite early today," Logan greeted them cheerfully.

"Lord Chief!" Both Begon and Reynolds responded with swift salutes, their postures stiff with formality.

"Please, no formalities tonight. This is a family gathering. Here, rank gives way to kinship," Logan insisted, waving away their solemnity with a gentle shake of his head.

The two uncles exchanged a knowing glance, silently acknowledging Logan's increasingly authoritative demeanor, which instilled a mix of respect and caution in them, especially Reynolds. Known for his earlier brashness and slight disdain towards his nephew, Reynolds now harbored a cautious respect, fearing Logan might seize an opportunity to settle old scores.

This family gathering, however, presented a golden opportunity for Reynolds to smooth over past tensions.

"Is father not among us yet?" Begon inquired, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. The recent power shifts under Logan's command had left him uneasy, yet tonight's relaxed hierarchy allowed him to breathe a bit easier.

"He's informed and will join us shortly," assured Logan, just as the resonant, robust voice of their grandfather, Barnett, filled the entryway.

"Why am I the last to arrive?" joked Barnett, his presence commanding as he entered, casually munching on a snack.

At his arrival, Logan and his uncles quickly stood, respect etched on their faces as they greeted the venerable head of their family.

"Father!" Begon and Reynolds greeted promptly, their voices filled with a mix of reverence and surprise.

"Grandpa!" Logan chimed in, echoing the formal greeting with a respectful nod.

"Come now, sit everyone let us enjoy the feast together as a family," Barnett waved them off casually as he found himself a comfortable chair, "We can leave the formalities aside tonight."