When Wendy returned to the village, everyone she met paused to kneel respectfully, as was customary in the presence of the future chieftess. She greeted each of them graciously before continuing toward the grand estate of clay and straw where she lived with her uncle and her nurse, Grandeeney.

Giants, contrary to popular belief, were not towering figures capable of reaching the sky. They stood about 9¼ feet tall—strong and muscular, yet generally peaceful creatures who fought only when necessary. This gentle nature was why a giant had been chosen to nurse Wendy after her mother's death. Grandeeney was also a close friend of Wendy's father; they had bonded years ago when he was a child and she saved him from a venomous snake bite in the savanna. Their friendship had grown into a familial bond, and when asked to raise the late chief's daughter, Grandeeney was determined to do so perfectly.

"Wendy, there you are!" the giantess exclaimed, rushing to embrace her. "Where have you been? You had me worried sick! And look at you—you're filthy!"

Grandeeney quickly soaked a rag in water and began wiping Wendy's face.

"Grandeeney, I'm fine," Wendy replied, brushing off her concern.

"Jellal told me you fell from a tree. Did you hurt yourself? Break any bones?"

"No, I'm alright. I was just having a little fun with Romeo, that's all."

"Jellal said you and Romeo were in the jungle unsupervised. You know children aren't allowed there without an adult."

"I know, but we didn't go far. I didn't think anything would happen."

"But something did happen! If Jellal hadn't been there... Oh, I can't even think about it."

"I'm sorry, Grandeeney. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know you didn't, but you can't keep doing this. You're not a little girl anymore; you're growing up. Soon, you'll need to take your rightful place as chieftess."

Wendy's expression shifted to one of insecurity. The weight of her expected role as a strong, responsible leader loomed over her. She was meant to guide and protect her tribe, ensuring their safety and well-being. But how could she live up to such high expectations? She wasn't a great warrior like Jellal or a mighty ruler like her father; she was just a girl who loved the wildlife around her. What made her deserving of such a title?

"Grandeeney," she said as her nurse picked leaves and twigs from her hair, "do I really have to do this?"

"Now dear, unkempt hair is nothing to be ignored."

"Not that. I mean this whole chieftess thing. Do I really have to?"

"You are your father's only child, his only heir. According to tradition, it's your birthright."

"But I don't think I'm up to it. I didn't ask to be my father's heir."

"I understand how you feel. This all seems daunting and even scary. But with time, as you grow older and complete your training, you will be ready. I promise."

"But what if I'm never ready? What if I fail?"

"Everyone has those fears, Wendy. Even I do."

"You do?"

"Yes. When your father first entrusted me with you as a baby, I was terrified—especially after he died."

"Why?"

"What if I didn't take good care of you? What if you grew up feeling unloved? I still struggle with that fear."

"I think you're doing fine."

Grandeeney smiled at her. "Thank you, sweetie. We all get scared and doubt ourselves sometimes. But in the end, we learn that our fears are often unfounded. It will be the same for you, I'm sure."

"I hope so," Wendy sighed, still feeling uncertain.

"Now, I have a meeting with the sub-chiefs. When I return, we'll have dinner, but until then, I want you to work on your training."

"Again?" Wendy whined.

"Yes, again." Grandeeney chuckled, kissing her forehead. "Now get going."

Grandeeney loved Wendy dearly and tried her best to raise her as her late father would have wanted. She was proud of Wendy's devotion to the land and its creatures but felt frustrated by her stubborn refusal to accept her destiny as the next leader. Whispers among the tribe suggested that Wendy's birthright should be revoked in favor of her uncle, a notion Grandeeney knew would be a grave mistake.

"That girl will never be a suitable ruler," said Ajeel, one of the sub-chiefs. "She's too naive and headstrong!"

"She is still just a child," Grandeeney countered. "Her father was the same way as a boy, but he grew out of it. Wendy will too; we just need to be patient."

"How much longer can we wait? In a year, she'll be thirteen. At this age, she should have finished her schooling, but she's barely made progress. And what about the rumors of war from the Tiānkōng Empire? They could strike at any moment, and this child wouldn't be able to lead an army."

"I agree," said Dimaria, another sub-chief. "The tribe would fare better if we let Chief Faust lead us."

"But we cannot ignore Chief Baldur's dying wish and break tradition," objected Warrod, the third sub-chief. "The firstborn child succeeds the chief upon reaching maturity."

"Unless that firstborn proves inept," Jura, the fourth sub-chief, interjected. "Which she is. While I respect tradition and Baldur's wishes, if war is looming, we must do what's best for the tribe—even if it means defying Baldur's last request."

"Now, now, everyone," Chief Faust said calmly. "We mustn't be so quick to dismiss my little niece. Like Grandeeney says, she is still just a child. Who knows how time will change her? If my brother had faith in her abilities, why shouldn't we? Let's give it a few more years and see how she matures. That's fair, don't you think?"

The sub-chiefs nodded in agreement.

"In that case, this meeting is adjourned. Jura, Warrod, see to the hunters and gatherers. Grandeeney, continue looking after the young heir as usual. Ajeel and Dimaria, come with me to discuss tomorrow's plans."

As the group dispersed, Faust and the other two sub-chiefs plotted more than just the usual events.

"Quite the convincing speech you gave, sir," Dimaria remarked. "You almost had me believing you actually hope your niece will succeed you."

"Don't make me laugh," he sneered. "As if I would ever let that brat take this tribe from me. Ever since my brother became chief, I've waited for the opportunity to claim that position, which arose when I invited Baldur on that hunt nine years ago and he had that 'accident.'"

Ajeel and Dimaria cackled wickedly at the word "accident," fully aware that no such thing caused the former chief's death.

Unknown to the rest of the tribe, Faust had secretly murdered his brother by luring him away from the other hunters and brutally stabbing him. He had cleverly disguised the act as a lion attack, and since no one else was present, no one could dispute his lies. For the past nine years, he had been plotting to eliminate his niece to secure his position as chief.

"It was brilliant," Ajeel snickered. "You made those stab wounds look like lion claw marks. To this day, no one suspects you."

"Someone will if you don't shut up about it!" Faust roared at his treacherous sub-chiefs. "How many times must I tell you fools never to speak of that day? Do you have any idea what would happen if the tribe learned the truth? Or what would happen to you? You know the penalty for high treason! If I go down, so do you!"

"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir! I'm an idiot, sir!" Ajeel stammered.

"This tribe rightfully belongs to me. If only that brat had been stillborn as I arranged, but someone poisoned my brother's wife after she went into labor instead of before," he said, glaring at Dimaria.

"Forgive me, but during the birthing process, I couldn't get close enough to her. Too many midwives were in the way," Dimaria replied.

"And for twelve years, you've both failed to dispose of Wendy. How hard is it to kill a little girl?"

"Harder than you think, with a giantess like Grandeeney and a warrior like Jellal always around. We can't just commit murder in front of them."

"Especially not in front of Jellal," Dimaria added. "He was hunting with you the day your brother died, and I suspect he's always had his doubts."

"Jellal," Faust cursed. "That meddlesome youth is a bigger thorn in my side than my niece. He may not know the truth, but I can see the distrust in his eyes whenever he looks at me."

"Why didn't you kill him too?" Ajeel asked. "He was only ten then; you could have easily eliminated him."

"Because, fool, the other hunters were returning, and they would have seen."

"Now he's too strong for anyone to kill him."

"Is he really too strong, or are you two just too useless?"

"If it's so easy to get rid of them, why don't you do it?" Dimaria challenged.

"As a matter of fact, I have a plan," Faust said, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. "Half the tribe believes allowing Wendy to lead is a mistake. They would be interested in starting an uprising—one that would overthrow loyalists like Jura and Warrod, securing my position as chief permanently."

"I don't know about that, sir," Ajeel replied. "Just because they think you'd be a better chief doesn't mean they'd betray Baldur's memory by harming his daughter."

"Perhaps not, but I plan to use their loyalty to my advantage."

"How so?"

Faust leaned in closer, revealing his sinister plan as the sub-chiefs listened intently.