The Shaman's Proposal
Wendigo sat upon his jade throne, awaiting Syr's arrival. Naturally, he wasn't just sitting there idly. He was savoring a lavish meal—even more extravagant than usual—consisting of a whole roasted calf stuffed and offered as tribute by the forest folk celebrating their victory.
"The cooks' skills seem to be improving by the day. Geron, why don't you have a taste?" Wendigo offered, gnawing on a leg as he spoke to Geron. The cooks must have developed a new sauce, because the flavor was richer than ever, too good to enjoy alone.
But despite Wendigo's invitation, Geron shook his head in refusal.
"This is a calf offered by the people hoping you would eat it, my lord. It wouldn't be proper for me to touch it."
"Anyone hearing you might think I ended the war single-handedly. I'm always grateful for your dedication, but sometimes I worry you're too rigid." Wendigo crunched on a bone, a hint of regret in his voice. He felt Geron, who often suffered in his stead, more than deserved a share.
Geron glanced at Wendigo with a troubled expression, thinking to himself,
'But didn't he pretty much end it alone?'
It was Wendigo who sowed discord among the enemy, Wendigo who took the enemy's leader's head...
Yet in his time serving Wendigo, Geron had learned one key thing: not to interrupt his lord's thoughts. These were words born of care for his own people—why pick a fight over it?
"Even so, I can't eat it."
"No helping it, then. If you change your mind, just say the word. I'll save some for you." Wendigo carved off a massive leg from the calf and continued his meal.
After devouring about half the calf, Skadi—summoned by Wendigo—pushed open the door and entered.
"Oh, if I'd known you were eating, Lord Wendigo, I would've come a bit later. Should I tell your guest as well?"
"You're earlier than expected. No need to mention it to Syr. It's rude to keep a guest waiting after summoning them. But... why is Osa here?" Wendigo pointed at Osa standing beside Skadi.
He hadn't called Osa separately, feeling guilty for bothering him recently. So why had he come with Skadi?
At Wendigo's question, Osa gave an awkward smile and glanced at Skadi.
"Ahaha. Lately, following Skadi around has become a habit..."
Geron nodded in understanding. It was only natural for an aide to trail their charge.
Skadi smiled, praising Osa. "Others have helped a great deal too, but lately, I've relied on Osa the most."
"N-no, it's nothing! I'm just helping out and learning shamanism while I'm at it." Osa waved his hands frantically, startled. He didn't want to be seen as some fly buzzing around Skadi.
Spirits could be possessive, viciously tormenting anyone who approached a shaman they'd claimed. Lord Wendigo hadn't shown such cruelty, but better safe than sorry.
'One brush of that palm, and my head would burst like a rotten tomato.'
Wendigo had no intention of turning Osa's head into a rotten tomato. Of course he'd think well of someone helping Skadi with his own duties, unasked.
In a mild tone, Wendigo bantered, "Humility suits you. The only thing I can offer right now is myst— I get it, stop glaring like that. How about this calf instead? It's quite tasty."
As Geron recoiled at "mystery" and Skadi looked flustered, Wendigo hurriedly pointed at the calf. Not that he truly meant to pass off a meal as full recompense...
"G-gulp."
"Hm?"
Osa stared at the roasted calf with trembling eyes. Wendigo had eaten a good portion, but it still wafted an appetizing aroma. A calf fit for a spirit's tribute must taste beyond imagination...
'No! Even so, it's no different from an offering to the spirit. A shaman coveting that would be unworthy!'
Osa squeezed his eyes shut, resisting temptation. Starvation from his beggar days as a child had nearly broken him, but now he was a proper shaman!
'Temptations like this—!'
'He really wants it.' Wendigo noticed Osa's gourmet inclinations. How could he miss the parade of joy, despair, resolve, and hesitation flickering across his face?
Wendigo leaned down and whispered to Geron. "Geron, sorry, but mind if I give Osa a leg? I know it's a public offering, but he looks desperate for it."
"...Is this because of what I said? If you wish it, my lord, just give it to him."
"But you might get mad."
"......"
Geron recoiled at Wendigo's point. It would make him sound like he tyrannized his lord!
Back then, he'd only considered himself, but the situation was different now!
"I only got upset when you did things beyond common sense, my lord. This would be a heartwarming tale—why would I object?!"
Geron realized he sometimes found Wendigo's un-spiritlike ways disconcerting. He should just do as he pleased with things like this!
"Good to hear it's fine. Now... could you ring the bell? It's too small for me to shake."
Geron shot Wendigo a sullen look, then pulled a bell from his robe and rang it. Attendants entered from outside and bowed deeply.
"Take the calf, portion it out. Package one leg to go."
"One leg might be too much for Osa alone, no?"
"Naturally, it's for Skadi too. Enjoy a cozy meal together."
Skadi nodded with a smile at Wendigo's kindness. Strong attendants carefully lifted the calf's platter and carried it out, while one approached Wendigo.
"Shall we bring the calf back once it's portioned, my lord?"
"No. I'll instruct later. More importantly, prepare tea—guests have arrived."
The perceptive attendant ordered the others to tidy up and burn incense to mask the smell.
Wendigo admired the deft handling, eyeing Geron. All the temple attendants were handpicked by him.
"Where'd you find a guy like that?"
"Heh. Half the forest folk are fugitives, aren't they? You just have to look. But I didn't even need to search."
Scholars, bastards, or fallen nobles could become fugitives. No need to hunt them—they flocked to the temple, flaunting skills to volunteer as attendants. After all, where in this forest was safer than Wendigo's side?
Geron merely weeded out the sly or sinister ones.
The attendants finished cleaning, served hot tea, and withdrew as politely as they'd come.
Moments later, a woman appeared, a beautiful fairy perched on her shoulder. With fox-like sharp eyes and long golden hair, the beauty Syr approached with a haughty expression and bowed to Wendigo.
"This is my first formal greeting. I am Syr of Freya—not boasting, but I'm a fairly capable shaman, if I do say so."
"I wondered at the spirit scent on you... so you're not hiding it anymore."
"...Freya says she has no intention of hiding."
Syr glared at the spirit on her shoulder as she replied. Her resentful gaze burned, yet Freya held firm.
Freya spread her wings, fluttered to Wendigo, and inspected him curiously from all angles.
[Hmm... more intact than I thought? From the rumors, I figured he was some mad spirit. His actions too.]
"Hmph, rude as ever—figures for a spirit." Wendigo was certain now: this fairy was a spirit. The raw, guileless impoliteness screamed it.
Syr sighed deeply at Freya's antics. Oblivious to how she tormented her host, Freya flew back and chattered.
[Darling, he's not the monster I feared! Unlike mutant spirits that repulse you just from their mysticism flow, this guy's... Kyaa!]
Syr grabbed Freya's wings with a cold expression and stuffed her into her pocket. Why blab what could be signed!
Wendigo was greatly impressed by Syr's boldness. Every shaman he'd met cowered before spirits.
"You and the spirit seem close?"
[Of course! Darling and I share blood... Mmph!?]
"No, we're not close at all."
'They seem plenty close.'
Syr denied it sternly, but Wendigo judged otherwise. No spirit would endure the humiliation of being pocketed otherwise.
"Well, whether you're close to the spirit or not isn't the point. Your scent's a bit pungent, but... you're decent enough, so I'll overlook it."
Not as fragrant as Skadi, but a flower-like aroma emanated from Syr. At least she wasn't evil...
'But she's still an outsider shaman. Can't let my guard down.'
Even the virtuous could turn wicked tomorrow—that was humanity.
Wendigo stared into Syr's eyes and cut straight to it. "Why have you come to see me?"
A simple question, but its weight was anything but. Syr felt a razor-sharp sword at her throat, her instincts screaming that Wendigo's judgment could sever her head.
Steadying her trembling heart, she slowly scanned Geron, Skadi, and Osa.
'Definitely different from spirits I've seen.'
Without Wendigo's piercing insight, Syr still prided herself on reading people. Evil etched sins into faces, complexions, and mannerisms.
Yet the spirit's retinue showed no such traces. Instead, their clear eyes sparkled with the purity of the good-hearted. They wouldn't serve a wicked spirit...
"I want to make a deal with you, spirit lord. Not a short one—a long-term deal where everyone can be happy."
Syr rolled the dice.