Whispers Beneath the Bewitching Moon
The lustrous moon hung in the sky, enchanting the human village, while a curtain of darkness divided others from self. Few moments shook the human heart like the night.
Naturally, evil spirits and malevolent beings targeted this time to pour poison into human souls.
The entity addressing Todell wasn't some ancient evil lurking in the forest. Why would such a being hide in a land barren of anything but trees, rocks, and snow?
The voice belonged to the Wendigo.
Of course, he hadn't come in person. He'd borrowed the body of a massive crow, the one usually dispatched to relay his commands, to seek out Todell.
'Not sure if this'll work.'
The Wendigo's plan was simple: persuade a shaman or chieftain bearing significant responsibility in the alliance to betray them from within.
To pull it off, he'd need just the right mix of division and incentive... though honestly, it wasn't a method he was confident in.
Turning enemies into allies was a first for him, unlike winning people to his side.
'And relations between us and them are far from good.'
The outsiders' shamans had struck first, but the Wendigo had turned their corpses into trees as a warning.
True, they were scum who looted the severed heads for materials, but grudges rarely bowed to reason.
Moreover, the forest warriors had beheaded invaders in the woods—no surprise their fury burned hot.
"Who goes there? Show yourself!"
Todell shouted, scanning the shadows warily. The Wendigo maneuvered the crow onto his shoulder.
The bird was as large as a man's torso, heavy enough to make Todell stagger.
He'd never imagined a crow landing on him; scowling, he glared at it.
'Now even a damn crow dares mock me!?')
But then Todell recognized it, eyes widening in shock.
It was that noisy crow that trailed the shamans—the one that fled without a fight from the forest warriors!
Still, a shaman was a shaman. Todell steadied his trembling heart and addressed the bird.
"Are you the spirit of the forest, sir?"
"Yes."
"!!!"
When the crow's beak echoed his own recent question in the Wendigo's voice, Todell shuddered as if struck by lightning.
He'd never dreamed of facing the Wendigo again so soon—let alone the monster seeking him out first!
"To visit a shaman in secret on such a late night... truly unexpected, sir."
Convinced the crow was the Wendigo, Todell cast aside his recent bitterness, feigning composure.
Negotiation's first rule: keep the other side desperate.
His talent for rallying tribes shone through in his cool expression and posture, masking his true feelings.
'He's already half-hooked.'
But the Wendigo wasn't fooled.
Faces and stances could lie, but the scent wafting from the body couldn't.
One moment reeking of venom, the next exuding sweet fragrance like a flipped palm—how could he miss it?
Oblivious to his exposure, Todell pressed on with a stern face.
"Why ask me such a question, sir? Aren't we enemies?"
"Enough prattle. I know you crave power. A shaman like you must grasp my intent. If not, I'll find someone else..."
"Ahem! I merely sought clarity before proceeding."
As the Wendigo flapped irritably, Todell grabbed the crow's leg without thinking, coughing awkwardly.
He hadn't expected such swift dismissal.
'Looks like I'm not the only one he's targeting...'
Memories flashed of shamans and chieftains humiliated in council—wounded prides, endless greed. They'd fall for the spirit's temptations easily.
Rubbing his palms like a merchant, Todell probed cautiously.
"Spirit sir, if I may... it seems you've come to win me over. Am I right?"
"Yes. This war is your doing. Chieftains wouldn't send bloodied warriors here without cause. You stoked their greed to rally them—obvious."
"Ahem. We had no choice but to seek trade with you, sir..."
"I may not know this world fully, but I know those who negotiate with blades are bandits."
"......"
The Wendigo nailed them as bandits before Todell could retort.
Not wrong, really. What merchants forced deals at swordpoint?
Unable to argue, Todell flushed and averted his gaze.
"At least you know shame."
"You didn't come to insult me. If you want my betrayal, offer a carrot, not the stick!"
As the Wendigo eyed him coldly, Todell snapped.
A seasoned shaman's pivot—masterful.
"Seeing beats hearing."
"Pardon? What—!?"
Another crow swooped in, flapping before Todell and proffering something in its talons.
Todell took it; the bird vanished silently.
"No answer needed—I know you want power. That's the price for your betrayal."
"What's this?"
Todell shook the dubious orb, sealed in spellbound leather.
"Sealed mysticism to avoid detection. Break it."
Swallowing dryly, Todell unwrapped the leather.
What merited such sealing...?
"This!"
"Not as grand as Isaac's ice crystal, but tempting enough for you."
Todell gaped at the pure, crystalline mysticism spilling forth.
Not Isaac's vast trove, but an ice crystal nonetheless.
Shock fading, he hastily resealed it—lest a shaman sense the power.
Far more deferential now, he asked:
"Y-You're truly offering this as payment, sir?"
"Just a down payment. Play your cards right, and more awaits."
Gulp.
Todell's mouth watered at the sweet lure, throat parched with thirst.
Had he been righteous and steadfast, he'd have hurled the crystal away, proclaiming, "I won't betray my comrades!"
But...
"My blindness kept me from your greatness, sir! Grant me leave to atone for my rudeness in your service!"
"......Shamans have a silver tongue like no other."
The Wendigo blurted his disbelief.
Amusing, yes—but this fervent?
A man draws his sword, he doesn't sheath till the enemy's head rolls. Todell didn't care.
His expedition's true aim: a legit(?) shot at dealing with the Wendigo.
Brushing off the mutter deftly, he awaited orders.
"What I want isn't hard."
"Even if it breaks my bones, if you command it..."
"It's not hard—spare the flattery. Sow discord in the alliance."
"Sow division? Alone, it'll be tough."
One loach muddies the pond, but only if conditions allow. Botch it, and he'd be hacked apart.
Tempting reward or not, Todell wasn't suicidal.
"Don't worry. I'll recruit more from within to stir trouble."
The Wendigo expected no miracles from Todell.
Skillful, he'd not have been crushed by forest warriors.
Profit-driven allies without true cause. A few muddying the waters would spark shouts soon enough.
Todell caught on, visibly relieved.
The crow lifted from his shoulder to a branch and spoke.
"When a crow cries late at night, come to the forest. Obey till then."
"Of course. I'll await our next meeting."
As the crow departed, Todell bowed deeply.
His downcast face beamed with smug triumph.
Who'd have thought that forest clash would circle back as opportunity!
'Alliance crumbles, shamans scatter—then I'm the only one left to deal with that spirit... heh heh heh.'
Todell slunk back to camp with a sinister chuckle.
"Will it work, sir? Even if the alliance falls, the traitors might cause issues."
"Geron, no need to fret."
Released from possession, the Wendigo faced Geron's worried look.
He couldn't trust alliance turncoats.
But the Wendigo dismissed it lightly—no cause for concern.
"I know your worry. How could one trust those who shove men into the grinder for greed?"
"Exactly. The shamans we aided have proven character, but these? When the alliance breaks and they demand payment..."
"No issue. They'll die with it anyway."
"...Pardon?"
Geron stared, stunned. The Wendigo replied matter-of-factly.
"Geron, I said I'd pay—not spare."
"You don't seem like a spirit most times... but against foes, sometimes you do."
"That's harsh, isn't it? I've never struck first. And those shamans? Vicious as they come—worse than me, even."
"No, it was perfectly spirit-like. I worried you were too lenient with humans... this reassures me."
"......You're too much."
Pouting at "spirit-like," the Wendigo eyed Geron before possessing another crow.
"Do you crave power...?"
Off to snag another traitor.
Geron watched in repeated awe.
Gelmir figured intimidating the screw-ups and co-opting his followers would let him control the alliance.
The former needed merits to avoid rashness; the latter, superiority to obey.
Then, use the disciplined warriors to seize the forest bit by bit.
But...
"We'll wash our sins in battle! Put us at the vanguard!"
"You shameless bastards! That's no atonement—just whining!"
"Hah! Fine, we'll act alone!"
"Ahem. We erred, yes. But remember which tribe supplies most of your food?"
"You mad dog! Blackmailing with rations in wartime? Come out—let's talk with swords!"
"Hey now, I just asked if you remembered."
"Raaagh!!!"
Gelmir's plan unraveled from the start.
Those meant to grovel as sinners were bullying others.
He'd thought discipline set on day one...
'What the hell happened in days to make them act drugged!?'
Gelmir ground his teeth in boiling rage.
He hadn't done that since youth—unbearable fury otherwise.