No Business at the Dinner Table
"From now on, let's save the work talk for after meals."
Wendigo grumbled as he spat out the bone from the rib in his mouth. Meals were a form of amusement for him, but having a mood-killing topic tossed in while he was savoring the food soured his appetite.
Geron nodded, fully understanding Wendigo's feelings.
"As I said before, you shouldn't hear reports like this during meals."
"Everyone was busy back then. It's something a leader has to endure."
"...Most people wouldn't worry about that sort of thing."
Geron looked at Wendigo with a complicated gaze. It was natural for subordinates to be pleased when their leader worked diligently and decisively, but in Geron's view, Wendigo went overboard. People would understand even if things got delayed anyway...
"From now on, unless it's urgent, we'll hold off on reports during meals or when you have personal matters."
"Do that. By the way... shamans showing up in droves, huh..."
Wendigo chewed thoughtfully on his food, pondering how to handle this. Frankly, it was a bit disconcerting. He'd expected outsiders to come, but who could've predicted that shamans of all people would come lining up?
Do these shamans have nothing better to do?
Wendigo thought of Skadi as an example. With only a handful of shamans he knew, his loyal protégé naturally came to mind first.
Skadi's days were packed. Beyond her personal shamanic research and tending to her rings and necklaces, she had mountains of work: patrolling the forest with OneTon to check for anomalies, preparing medicinal herbs when word came of the sick, inspecting crops to ensure they grew healthy...
No matter how I look at it, shamans aren't the idle type...
Even just what came to mind off the top of his head was plenty. And that didn't even include things he didn't know about—it had to be even more.
In Wendigo's opinion, shamans could never have much free time. Who would waste such valuable talent?
"Guys who should be swamped with work come trekking to the forest. They might be con artists."
"Pardon?"
"Think about it. Skadi's busy every day—how much free time must these guys have to show up here?"
"Well... honestly, I think Skadi's the unusual one. I've never heard of a shaman like her in my life."
As Wendigo seemed seriously suspicious of con artists, Geron hurriedly appealed to common sense. There were shamans with pure hearts like Skadi or Isaac, but most had shattered personalities. Especially those contracted with spirits—they were infamous for their eccentricity, warped by dealing with foul-tempered spirits.
Would such shamans readily help people?
"Why not just think of them as ordinary shamans?"
"And what if they are ordinary shamans?"
"A bit greedy, grumpy... and kinda sleazy, I guess."
Wendigo nodded as Geron recalled shamans from memory. So, basically con-artist peddlers. The nasty kind with a near-monopoly on their trade.
Scumbags, in the end.
"If you really don't like them, I can send a message to chase them off. If the warriors get aggressive, they'll back down to avoid losses."
"We don't want to be the ones starting conflicts... Better to bring them all to the temple."
"Pardon? Are you serious?"
Geron asked in shock. No matter how he thought about it, Wendigo didn't seem eager to meet the shamans.
But Wendigo nodded. From the stories, these shamans didn't seem like the type to back off just because they were told to.
"People always want to do the forbidden more. And you said they're greedy, petty, and persistent, right?"
"I didn't say it that harshly. Just that they're unpleasant types."
"Same difference."
As Geron shot him a dissatisfied look, Wendigo brushed it off with his sturdy skull.
"Don't make that face. Telling them to leave would just pique their curiosity anyway, so let's meet the decent ones ourselves."
"You'll evaluate them in person? There are already over twenty messages—will that be okay?"
"No problem. Evaluating them as a group, twenty or thirty makes no difference."
"?"
Geron eyed him questioningly, but Wendigo was confident in his own way. A few pointed questions, and they'd reek of 'I'm trash' on their own.
Besides...
I can always use clones for the evaluation.
Today was one of those days OneTon, his self-proclaimed mentor(?), kept popping into his mind. The beast surely would've praised him if he knew how his shaman arts were being used.
Wendigo's orders were relayed via unusually sturdy, healthy crows. These crows, infused with Wendigo's mysticism, had owl-like sharp eyes, swift as a ptarmigan, and...
"Cawww!!!"
"Those damn crows..."
"Quiet down. They're clearly blessed with mysticism—favorites of the spirits."
...crow-like smarts.
The messenger crows, after delivering their messages, circled above the shamans screeching ear-piercingly if they had no other tasks. At first, the shamans pondered if it was some omen, but eventually, they had to admit it: the crows just hated them!
"Grew up on human flesh or something? What lungs."
"How many are there? Looks like ten at least..."
The shamans, under warrior 'escorts' that were really surveillance, muttered while eyeing the crows. Spirits didn't discriminate by species with their favor, but scattering mysticism on so many crows...
I heard it wasn't a crow-shaped spirit.
Did I bring something crow-related?
If it had just been the crows, the shamans might've calmed down easily. Shamans encountered wondrous sights like that often enough.
But factoring in what they'd seen in the villages, they couldn't stay calm.
"In my village, some livestock got mysticism too..."
"Your village too? Mine was the same."
If they hadn't heard what land this was beforehand, the shamans would've caused a uproar. Animals infused with mysticism wandering villages, lowly warriors wearing helmets imbued with profound spells!
Lesser shamans might've shrugged it off, but seasoned ones couldn't.
What the hell is that spirit plotting to waste mysticism like this...?
If Isaac had heard their doubts, he'd have laughed bitterly and said, 'Remember what I told you?' But regrettably, Isaac wasn't here.
Of course, they did recall Isaac saying this forest's spirit valued merit and punishment...
But was that really possible?
"Maybe Isaac was right?"
"Nah... even so, what spirit's like that?"
"Remember that guy... Ryurik! He botched his spirit contract big time, right?"
"Oh, that one."
The shamans nodded at the name of the shaman contracted with a boar spirit draped in roots and branches. Ryurik was a prime example of a botched contract—greed gone too far.
"Tried borrowing spirit power without prep and got hit with impossible demands."
"Yeah. Always too greedy—tried for a tight contract and got his nose pierced."
"Tsk tsk. Should've taken it step by step instead of shortcuts."
Most shamans avoided close bonds with spirits. Basic contracts for mysticism were doable even for novices—just flatter the spirit and pay up.
But intimate contracts changed everything. Spirits, knowing they held the power, demanded unbearable prices.
Spirits like that valuing merit?
"Haven't seen that Ryurik lately."
"Probably dropped dead somewhere... Wait, what are those guys?"
One shaman pointed in shock at the forest. There, impossibly, were beastkin.
A few wouldn't be odd—this forest drew fugitives of all races. But this was over twenty beastkin riding wolves.
"Not just one or two!"
"They're riding wolves, not horses!"
Beastkin on horses were scary enough—on wolves? The shamans readied spells, glaring.
Beastkin were inherently violent and tenacious; lose momentum, and it was over.
"Greetings! You must be the shamans for the spirit."
"Hokan. Long time."
"?"
The beastkin dismounted and offered a handshake; the warrior greeted him familiarly. The shamans couldn't believe the absurdity. Beastkin cozy with forest folk?
"...Common sense doesn't apply in this forest."
"Nothing'll surprise us now."
"What is this..."
The shamans gaped at the bizarre structure before them: a massive wooden cave. No natural formation like this existed.
Someone had built it deliberately...
"Why build something like this?"
"To test you all."
"!"
A clear voice echoed from within. The shamans tensed, seeking its source. From the cave's dark depths emerged Skadi.
They couldn't help but tense at her appearance. Profound—no, terrifying—mysticism flowed from her body.
"Wh-who are you?"
"Good question. I'm Skadi, shaman serving Wendigo."
"Skadi... the one Isaac mentioned?"
"She's really young."
The shamans eyed her puzzled. They'd heard from Isaac, but not that she'd be this young...
Regaining composure, they greeted her.
"Greetings. I'm from the Falkenhain tribe—"
"Sorry. Wendigo ordered greetings only after passing the test, so I can't accept them now."
"Test? What kind of test?"
No greetings, straight to tests? The shamans looked troubled. They hadn't expected trials from the spirit so soon.
Skadi, anticipating their reaction, smiled and nodded.
"Don't worry. It's simple—Wendigo asks a few questions, you answer honestly."
"That's... a test?"
"No fetching items or sacrifices?"
"Correct. If you doubt, I swear on my shaman arts."
Her confident demeanor convinced them she wasn't scamming. As Skadi stepped aside, they cautiously entered the cave.
Thick darkness shrouded the interior. Each countered it their way—potions or spells prepared for such occasions.
What awaited beyond the gloom was a single figure.
That matches Isaac's description of the spirit!
It leaned on an ice sword thrust into the ground, watching them from the shadows.
The shamans approached the presumed spirit. As its form clarified, some sensed something off.
It didn't quite match Isaac's tale.
"Isn't it a bit small?"
"Isaac exaggerated. Or maybe a constrained answer."
"Check with your Spirit Eye. If it's not a spirit, that's weird."
Mouthing silently to avoid the spirit's ears, they activated their Spirit Eyes.
A body forged of vast mysticism.
It really is a spirit.
"Looks like you're all here. Let the test begin."
"!"
Krrrng!
The spirit suddenly opened its mouth, yanked the ice sword free, and advanced. The shamans tensed.
A spirit emanating chill in a dark cave looked... far too ferocious.
It won't swing that, right...?
Unconsciously, their hands drifted to their tools.