Chapter 70

Wendigo nodded slightly and examined Sira’s body. He instinctively became wary at the mention of a deal.

It was a natural reaction, as almost none of those who had requested deals so far were normal.

Wendigo was puzzled that he didn’t sense strong shamanism from her body.

“You’ve come to a dangerous place without any weapons? If you’re trusting your friend, no, spirit, I advise that it’s not a very good choice.”

Wendigo’s point was quite sensible. No fool would come to make a deal with a spirit without means to protect themselves.

Sira, of course, had that much common sense. How could she not know such basics after living with a spirit her whole life?

However, a shaman should also know to accept when common sense breaks down if there’s a valid reason.

‘It’s not strange for a kind spirit to exist.’

Sira defined the spirit before her as a being different from the spirits she had met so far.

Sira bowed politely and carefully moved her lips.

“I would have done so when meeting other spirits. Most spirits don’t hesitate to torment others, so meeting them itself is a danger.”

“Are you saying I’m not dangerous?”

“I meant you’re a being I can deal with without holding a weapon. How can forcing with power be called the way of commerce in this world?”

“Hmm, that’s right. In this world, dealing with force is what thieves do.”

Wendigo, followed by others, nodded in agreement. Only after taking in this scene could Sira feel at ease.

Honestly, even as she spoke, she had worried that the spirit before her might get angry.

Politely put, it meant that, but directly it meant ‘How is forcing with power any different from a thief?’

While mercenaries and thieves enjoy forceful plunder, spirits love it the most in the world.

How many spirits in the world would dislike having offerings brought to them after killing one or two as an example?

So the spirit before her was astonishing.

Of course, Wendigo was equally surprised. Except for those he had taken in, he had been seriously wondering if shamans’ character and skill were inversely proportional…

‘Hmm, it feels like looking at Skadi.’

Wendigo gave what he considered the highest praise he could give to a shaman.

How admirable was her attitude of starting a deal not with force but with trust?

Compared to those who had come so far, unleashing violence and deceit, Sira was certainly a person of character.

“And to add one more thing, I’m not friends with Freya. She’s a spirit who torments our clan using the contract made with my ancestor as an excuse…”

‘Hmm, to say it like that, they must be quite close.’

Though he sensed a slight smell of lies, the meaning of friendship naturally varied for each person.

Surely Sira was pondering whether she was at a level where she could call a spirit a friend.

Freya, who had been quietly listening from Sira’s pocket, poked her head out and chided Sira as if embarrassed.

[ Darling~ You don’t need to emphasize how close we are that much! I have an eye for spirits, and that guy is definitely an abnormal spirit! ]

“Hmm, seeing how affectionate you are even after hearing such words, you must be quite close.”

Sira stared blankly at the two spirits, dumbfounded.

Wendigo lightly ignored the sharp gaze. It seemed she clearly hadn’t accepted that she was friends with the spirit yet.

At times like this, it was better not to force the truth.

With time, she would realize that being friends with a spirit wasn’t such a big deal…

‘Well. I can’t say it’s not a big deal.’

Wendigo corrected his thought that it wasn’t a big deal. Thinking about it, becoming friends with a spirit with a nasty temperament and strong power was quite an impressive feat.

Thinking this way, Wendigo couldn’t help but acknowledge Sira’s character and ability.

“It’s not easy to keep such an ill-mannered spirit as a friend with ordinary ability and patience. Let’s hear about the deal.”

“……”

Sira looked at Freya and Wendigo with a subtle expression.

Calling Freya a friend itself was chilling, but denying it would be like saying it wasn’t her ability.

Under Sira’s heated gaze, Freya put her hands on her cheeks and twisted her body, acting shy.

[ Aying. Isn’t your gaze too hot today, darling? ]

“… Shut up before I really burn you.”

---

Fortunately, Sira didn’t collapse from stress before even hearing the deal’s contents.

Thanks to the perceptive Osa noticing Sira and Freya’s relationship and asking the servants for tea good for mind and body.

As her blood pressure that had been boiling to the point of making her nape tingle settled down, Sira apologized for her unseemly behavior.

“Phew… I’m sorry. Seeing something I shouldn’t have, I couldn’t bear it and ended up being rude.”

“It’s alright. More importantly, I’d like to hear what you want to deal in.”

“Actually, it’s closer to a proposal than a deal. Could you take a look at this map?”

Wendigo carefully examined the map Sira took out. There was nothing particularly special, but one thing different from ordinary maps was that the names of tribes were written for each land.

Lefrune, Ulfen, Norg…

“There are quite a few names of those who attacked me.”

“Yes. Naturally, many of the chieftains who participated in the alliance are located in the outskirts of the forest, as the shamans used land as bait.”

No matter how tempting fertile land might be, it wasn’t easy to pass through another tribe’s territory.

Moreover, in the North, there were many warriors who didn’t hesitate to draw weapons if negotiations and compromises failed, making it even more difficult.

Sira drew a line connecting the tribes on the outskirts of the North, making them into one line.

“What I want to propose is to create a gateway to manage the outskirts of the forest by binding these people, those who will swear loyalty to the spirit-nim, into one.”

“A gateway to the forest… You mean to control entry into the forest?”

“That’s right.”

It was quite an appealing story. This time it was manageable because the greedy ones formed a single alliance, but if it had happened simultaneously across the entire forest, it would have been quite troublesome.

No matter how many avatars he could create unlimitedly, the number he could control wasn’t infinite, and even if Sia could check dozens, she was alone.

Sira circled one in her own tribe, and two each from the tribes on either side.

“Freyr is your tribe, and Lefrune is the tribe that was humiliated today. One is… Duenor?”

“Yes. It’s a quite renowned tribe. The Lefrune tribe has some infamy, but they don’t refuse things that will benefit them.”

“I’ve heard of the Duenor tribe too. My mother said they’re straightforward people, honest about grudges and favors.”

If Skadi’s mother evaluated them that way, it was quite believable.

What more could be said when a woman knowledgeable about herbs, not shying away from rough work, and even skilled in shamanism and martial arts evaluated them as straightforward?

‘The Lefrune tribe… at least the one I chose shouldn’t be the type to go around conning people.’

Most of all, Wendigo liked that he didn’t have much to do.

The problem was what Sira wanted in return for handling such troublesome matters…

“In a deal, if there’s something given, there should be something received. Tell me, what do you want?”

Sira tensed up. Even for a gentle spirit, it was hard to guess if he would remain so after hearing what she wanted.

She carefully answered the question.

“I would like to receive one ice crystal each year, like the one you gave to Isaac. Of course, in return, I will try my best to prepare whatever items the spirit-nim desires.”

“It’s not that great a thing. Alright, let’s do that.”

“???”

Sira stared at Wendigo with a blank expression, bewildered.

She had naturally expected Wendigo to express displeasure and start a long negotiation…

“Ah, I have one request in return.”

“Anything I can do.”

“If possible, could you procure some food items that can’t be obtained in the forest? I’ll deduct the cost from what we collect from other tribes.”

“……”

Sira was at a loss for words at a request she had never heard in her lifetime as a shaman.

… Is he really not a spirit?

---

After successfully concluding the deal with Sira, Wendigo selected the chieftains of the remaining tribes except for the Lefrune tribe the next day.

Among them, the most impressive tribe was the Duenor tribe.

Indeed, the description of “straightforward” left by Skadi’s mother was not wrong.

Anton of Duenor, a muscular bald man, shouted with a rock-solid expression:

“I have no interest in the position of chieftain. I responded to the call to behead my father with my own hands.”

“Spirit-nim. It seems he’s a madman.”

Geron whispered to Wendigo with a disgusted expression, pointing at Anton who boldly spoke of patricide.

Although in the North it was considered a virtue for the next chieftain to compete for their father’s position, it was rare for someone to openly declare they would behead their own father.

Why would anyone boast about it when they might suffer the same fate if they made a mistake?

Wendigo asked Anton out of pure curiosity:

“If it’s not to succeed the chieftain’s position, why do you want to behead your father?”

“My father neglected my mother, letting her die from illness. I swore revenge at my mother’s bedside.”

“What if I don’t allow it?”

Anton placed his hand on the war hammer at his waist. Then he looked at Wendigo boldly and stated his conviction:

“A warrior’s oath is sacred law. Even if death is certain, I have no intention of backing down.”

Wendigo admired Anton’s stubbornness.

This is what it means to be truly stubborn!

Wendigo laughed helplessly and clapped.

“Ha, you’re the craziest and most stubborn of all I’ve seen. I entrust your father’s life to you. In return, lead the tribe.”

“I am not a wise man. What good would it do for someone like me to lead the tribe?”

“It doesn’t seem that being wise necessarily leads a tribe well. Rather, it’s better for the chieftain to be someone who loves the tribe and doesn’t fall into unjust ways.”

The other heirs of the Duenor tribe looked at Anton with jealousy or regret. However, no one denied Anton becoming the chieftain.

They vaguely felt that there was no one more suitable for chieftain than Anton.

Wendigo dismissed everyone except for the warriors who would become chieftains of each tribe from today, Skadi, Geron, and Sira.

Standing in front of Anton, Wendigo asked him:

“What kind of weapon do you prefer? Spear? Sword?”

Anton thought carefully at Wendigo’s question and then blurted out:

“I’ve handled all weapons in my life, but I don’t think there’s a weapon I can say I like. However… I would like to have an axe to behead my father.”

“An axe…”

Nodding, Wendigo sprouted roots from the ground and infused them with mystery, shaping them into the form of an axe.

After completing the axe, Wendigo picked it up as if plucking a fruit from the roots and held it out to Anton.

“Congratulations on becoming chieftain. I hope this axe will help protect the tribe.”

“!”

Anton grabbed the axe with trembling hands, his eyes wide. He shuddered at the life force transmitted through his hands.

An intense power that felt like it could cut down a tree in one blow pulsed in his arm.

Anton looked at Wendigo with surprised eyes and asked:

“Can I really have something like this?”

“You don’t think I made it just to show you, do you? Take it. After beheading your father, use it to behead my enemies and yours.”

“… Thank you. I will repay this grace with loyalty.”

Anton accepted the axe with a more polite attitude than before.

Wendigo then personally crafted and bestowed weapons to the others as well.

Swords and spears imbued with terrible cold, heavy yet flexible hammers and maces…

The last was Milosi, who was the first to be designated as chieftain. Meeting Wendigo’s eyes, Milosi cautiously asked:

“Um… would a bow be possible?”

“A bow?”

Not expecting a bow instead of a sword or axe, Wendigo unconsciously asked back.

Fearing Wendigo might be angered, Milosi hurriedly shook his head and shouted:

“Ah, no! On second thought, I think a sword would be better!”

“It seems you didn’t know I can detect lies. Anyway, a bow…”

Making the bow itself was easy, but it was hard to imagine making the bowstring.

Would it be possible if the wood was made very thin?

‘No matter how thin, it can’t be called a bow without elasticity. A way…’

As Wendigo pondered, he paused upon seeing Milosi’s fur. He reached out as if entranced.

“Sp-Spirit-nim!?”

Milosi was startled and raised his hands, but couldn’t avoid Wendigo’s hand.

Wendigo’s extended claw swiftly plucked Milosi’s… hair.

Skadi noticed something was amiss.

Normally, Wendigo would have asked Milosi and received the fur, but now he acted without saying anything.

‘… He sometimes acts incomprehensibly, but anyway.’

… Anyway, Skadi, noticing that Wendigo’s state was different from usual, approached him and asked:

“Are you alright? Are you tired from using too much mystery?”

Wendigo didn’t answer. He silently plucked his own fur and combined it with Milosi’s fur.

The combined fur began to slowly change shape, absorbing Wendigo’s mystery.

The fur became a beautiful white thread exhaling cold air, and Wendigo created a bow stave from roots pulled from the ground and strung the white thread on it.

Handing the completed bow to Milosi, he said:

“You won’t need arrows. If you wish, the cold imbued in the string will shape arrows according to the owner’s will.”

Milosi stared blankly at the bow he received.

Even just receiving a single sword would be considered a family heirloom for generations, yet to be given such a treasure!

“We swear to serve the spirit-nim for generations to come!”

“Oaths should not be made carelessly. In the future, when you truly wish to follow me, come and swear your oath.”

“Yes!”

As Wendigo’s gentle authority dominated the space, the warriors, no, chieftains, bowed and swore their loyalty with utmost respect.

No one considered the loyalty oath dishonorable. Rather, they took pride in being present at this moment.

Wendigo sat on the throne and looked down at them with a gentle gaze.

Geron and Skadi watched this scene, blinking their eyes.

---

A little later.

After the chieftains left with their weapons and their fathers, or former fathers, Wendigo sat on the throne and recalled the situation from just before.

He had plucked his own fur and infused it with mystery.

Then, like before, the fur became a thread imbued with cold…

“It doesn’t work.”

The fur couldn’t withstand the mystery and shattered. Wendigo fiddled with the ice fragments and thought.

He clearly had neither the method nor experience to make such a thing…

‘How did I do it?’