The Reir Tribe's Warriors Paid Dearly for Underestimating the Forest
The warriors of the Reir Tribe had paid dearly for treating the forest lightly. The unfamiliar forest environment and warriors who were in no way inferior in quality were problems enough, but the appearance of the bone-helmed warrior and the wolf riders had been an utterly unforeseen variable.
"What the hell, wolves that huge?!"
"Treat 'em like monsters. Aim for the eyes or legs to lock down their movement... Gahk!?"
"Damn it. Arrows again!"
"You cowardly bastards! Show yourselves like true warriors!"
Up front, the forest warriors pressed the assault with the deer-skulled monster at the lead, while wolf riders tore into wounds from the flanks—and arrows rained down from every direction. The Reir Tribe's warriors were brave by nature, matching their stubborn disposition, but bravery alone didn't win battles.
Todell glanced at a warrior turned into a pincushion by arrows and quickly made his judgment.
This is hopeless!
A shaman's strength lay in creating powerful variables in battle, but that was only useful if victory seemed possible. With half his warriors already dead, how much could one shaman's solo heroics change?
Todell tapped the hawk-bone talisman around his neck. The magic embedded in it lightened his body. With a heartbroken expression, he rallied his warriors.
"Descendants of great warriors! Proud warriors and raiders of Reir! Though we fall to their vile tricks, we shall die with honor!"
"Lord Todell!!!"
"Fight! We may die, but we won't show our backs. Better to drive our blades into the enemy's heart and die standing—then I can proudly tell our ancestors: 'We fought with honor!'"
The northerners' ancestors were raiders who crossed the sea, worshippers of the warrior god. They had forgotten the god's name but not their faith. They still believed an honorable death qualified one for the gods' hall.
To them, Todell's rallying cry was a powerful catalyst. Reason drowned in frenzied bloodlust, survival instincts yielded to death-defying fury.
The warriors roared monstrously and charged the foes before them. The forest warriors were awed by their ferocity, ignoring a few arrows or shallow wounds.
"Mad bastards. Can't even remember the gods' names, yet dead set on throwing their lives away cheap!"
"Hold them off! No emptier death than falling to scum like that!"
But resolve to die didn't reverse the tide. For forest folk surviving starvation and flesh-rending cold, or nomads for whom war was life, such resolve was hardly rare.
Todell had half-expected this. He hadn't truly believed his warriors could repel the enemy.
As they all flung themselves into the fray, he turned without a shred of regret.
This isn't fleeing. Can't waste their sacrifice and the enemy's strength—it's a tactical retreat!
Even thinking that betrayed his guilt, but Todell brushed it off. If the warriors' deaths weren't confirmed, who would vow revenge or downplay the alliance's threat?
Swallowing humiliation, he retreated swift as a hawk...
"That one's a shaman? Comparing him to our spirit-following shamans... Pathetic."
The forest warriors marveled at his ugly yet nimble retreat. So shocking that even the wolf riders didn't pursue.
Naturally, not just the forest warriors saw it. Warriors with some reason left bellowed in rage at Todell's antics.
"Todell! Toodeeell!!! You coward! Come back and fight with honor!!!"
But Todell never glanced back, vanishing like wind on the breeze.
The Reir warriors wailed curses at his sudden disappearance as they breathed their last.
"Big trouble!"
"...Yeah. If you're barging in during dinner, it must be."
Wendigo set down his steaming whole chicken with a gloomy sigh as Geron rushed in, face urgent. Geron hastily called servants to clear the food.
Wendigo eyed the departing dishes with longing.
"Spirit Lord, sorry to interrupt your meal, but it was truly unavoidable."
"I know. You wouldn't if it wasn't dire."
Wendigo sighed, talons drumming the throne's armrest. His head understood, but his heart pounded with hot fury. Who the hell ruined one of my few joys?!
"Spit it out. Which cursed fools are wrecking my dinner—no, rampaging in my forest?"
"Scouts report strangers camping at the forest edge. The main camp's moving slowly, with multiple detachments entering the woods."
"Casualties?"
"Well..." Geron trailed off awkwardly, prompting Wendigo to shake off food regrets and face reality grimly. How bad to make even Geron hesitate?
"Worse than expected? Makes sense if they got ambushed."
"No, casualties are light. The detachments didn't coordinate, so we picked them off piecemeal..."
"......"
Wendigo prided himself on seeing greedy fools aplenty, but each new idiot left him speechless. Enemies being incompetent should be good, but... this was excessive.
"Multiple detachments means plenty of warriors, right?"
"Seems so. Reports say lots of smoke from the camp."
"But that many warriors need commanders. What'd they do for such a blunder?"
"Er... my personal hunch: they're not one unified force."
Wendigo found Geron's guess plausible. Even idiots follow orders to unite. But a ragtag alliance of factions? No surprise they wouldn't cooperate—different leaders, different goals.
"So shamans or tribes allied... I can guess why."
"Exiled shamans stirring trouble, right?"
"Likely. Can't handle alone, so promised spoils to unite."
Then detachments followed shaman or chieftain orders, not alliance command. More likely they didn't even know of each other than distrust.
Going out myself like usual won't solve the root...
Chieftains moved tribes; shamans moved chieftains. Eliminate them to end this.
"Tell the warriors: don't attack. Herd them deeper into the forest."
"You sure? With Blue-Mane, it was one tribe. This is a full alliance."
"Don't worry. Got a wedge that'll work great on them."
"Wedge?"
Wendigo formed an ice crystal in his palm.
"They want this, don't I have it? Use it to make 'em fight each other."
Todell returned from leading a detachment, barely alive. But his tragedy wasn't unique. Like attracts like—excluding him, at least five others sneaked off for glory.
Gelmir seized the chance to berate the rogue tribes.
"Didn't expect so many ignoring my command from the start. Didn't you all agree to follow?"
"Ahem. Just scout parties for recon. Gelmir, even as alliance commander, you can't nitpick that."
"Heh, scouts? Who sends a third of their warriors scouting?!"
Gelmir sneered pityingly, but the rogue leaders swallowed anger without retort. Their detachments had been nearly wiped out—no glory.
Gelmir glared, issuing punishment.
"No choice. Move your camps to the rear."
"Gelmir!"
"Quiet. Considering your faces as chieftains and shamans, this is light. Otherwise..."
His cold gaze swept them; they bit lips and bowed.
Watching, Todell pieced it together. Too suspicious.
No way Gelmir—a shaman of his caliber—didn't foresee rogue actions. He knew and let it happen.
Results proved it: he gained control over the unruly alliance, weakened rivals without loss, struck the enemy indirectly.
If Gelmir had a good rep, it'd be paranoia. But his infamy was legendary in the north.
"Meeting adjourned. Hope tomorrow passes without such messes."
"Don't worry. Unless those fools screw up again."
"Tsk tsk. If you're incompetent, at least be humble."
Some tribes now sided with Gelmir, filing out in his wake.
Realizing he'd been played, Todell trembled with rage and shame. Wanted to explode at Gelmir, but...
"Hoo... No rash moves for now."
"Chieftain! But like this, no chance for glory!"
"Enough. Rest. I'm tired too."
Even his sycophantic chieftain eyed him suspiciously and ordered retreat.
Todell shook with unprecedented humiliation.
That night, sleep evaded him. He wandered the camp under the moon, then deeper into the woods, venting fury where no eyes watched.
"If I had Gelmir's power... If I had a chieftain's authority!"
Grinding teeth in the unseen forest, he poured out his heart...