Chapter 109

The carriage carrying Ian hurried along the road.

Along the way, Sigurd shared his knowledge of the North with Ian and his companions.

"That monk you're looking for… even if you find him in the Red Bear tribe, it won't be easy to get him out."

"I heard a bit about it from Priest Madagal. Something about using him for medicine…"

Even as Ian spoke, he found the idea ridiculous.

What kind of tonic is a human heart supposed to be?

If you're sick, you should take medicine, not eat a heart…

These crazy barbarians.

"Yeah. I heard that chief has been weakening lately."

"What illness does he have?"

"How would I know? But he's at an age where it's normal to be frail. He's over 60 now."

At 60, he was indeed an old man.

The further back in time you go, the shorter the average human lifespan becomes.

Even in Korea, just 50 years ago, people celebrated their 60th birthdays with big parties.

Considering that turning 60 means reaching "hwangap" it could seem overblown from a modern perspective.

[A/N: Hwangap is a traditional way of celebrating one's 60th birthday in Korea. It is analogous to Kanreki in Japanese or Jiazi in Chinese. The number 60 means accomplishing one big 60-year cycle and starting another one in one's life following the traditional 60-year calendar cycle of the lunar calendar...]

However, the grand celebration of a 60th birthday was proof that few people lived past that age.

Humans weren't originally meant to live to 60.

The further back in history, the more this was true.

In that sense, the chief of the Red Bear tribe was indeed an old man who had lived long enough.

"At that age, he'd die no matter what he eats."

Belenka muttered.

Her statement was harsh but an accurate fact.

The medieval era, lacking hospitals and surgeries, was hostile to the elderly.

"True. But his sons don't think that way."

"Well… I suppose not."

Wanting your parents to live longer isn't wrong.

Just as modern people give their parents ginseng gifts, the warriors of the Red Bear tribe were simply giving their chief the heart of a monk.

It was a filial gesture.

"Do you think they'll just hand over the medicine they worked so hard to get from the Empire?"

Sigurd was genuinely concerned for Ian.

If they found the monk in the Red Bear tribe but couldn't rescue him, what could be more disheartening?

In truth, even if Ian couldn't rescue Takarion, the monastery wouldn't hold it against him, knowing it was beyond his abilities.

But since he'd come this far, Ian also wanted to bring Takarion back if possible.

"Don't worry about that."

"Oh. Do you have a plan?"

"I don't. But Ian will."

"…?"

Me?

Ian looked confused as he paused eating, but the others all wore serious faces.

Belenka, Kira, even Sigurd.

They all had expressions that said, 'Wizard Ian will figure something out!'

"Well, he does have some strange tricks up his sleeve. I heard he moved a boulder just by talking?"

"Haha. That's magic for you."

"Truly unique."

Ian casts the magic, so why does Belenka look so proud?

"Yeah. If Takarion is there, getting him out will be no problem."

When Kira chimed in, Ian had no choice but to speak up.

"Don't expect too much. We don't know how things will turn out."

Ian tried to act nonchalant.

He was about to stroke Oberon…

"What are you doing there?"

Oberon was lurking in a corner.

And in front of him was the phoenix chick.

"Caw! Caw!"

[Welcome to the training camp, recruit! I am Drill Instructor Oberon!]

"Chirp! Chirp!"

[Yes, Instructor!]

[Your voice is adequate! But will your fragile wings satisfy the master?]

[I will do my best, sir!]

"…"

Ian was immediately dumbfounded.

What kind of raven trains a phoenix?

More importantly, how does a raven even know terms like "drill instructor"?

Did it live near a mercenary training camp?

[This instructor can be either an angel or a demon, depending on you, Recruit Chamssae...]

[A/N: this is Ice Claw, not a mistranslation.]

"Hey, Oberon."

[Yes, Master! Did you call me?]

Oberon approached with an angelic demeanor.

Indeed, Oberon had the ability to switch between an angel and a devil depending on who he was dealing with.

It was the cunningness befitting a raven.

"What are you doing with the phoenix?"

[Turning it into a proper bird!]

"And what do you plan to do with it once you've turned it into a proper bird?"

Ian was once again dumbfounded.

Why was Oberon doing things he hadn't even been asked to do?

There was no need to train this phoenix.

After all, it was closer to a spirit than a living creature.

Although it still had a physical body now, once it died and returned as a phoenix, it would become a mystical being.

Then, it would be able to converse with Ian seriously.

There was no need to train it to communicate.

"It's still a baby, so leave it alone…"

Ian didn't directly tell Oberon to "stop messing around and go to sleep."

After all, Oberon was a familiar who followed Ian devotedly.

He couldn't berate him outright just because he was doing something odd.

But the phoenix interrupted.

"Chirp! Chirp!"

[No, I can do it!]

"…?"

[I want to grow up to be a bird that helps mom and dad! I want to get strong and be filial!]

At this, Oberon shed a tear of emotion.

[Chamssae… you…! You're a man!]

[What? I don't have a gender…]

[No! You are a man! I can see your fiery soul!]

Oberon spread his black wings and hugged the baby phoenix.

[Chamssae!]

[Instructor!]

"…"

What nonsense.

Ian knew Oberon was strange, but he didn't realize he enjoyed such ridiculous antics.

It was fortunate that his companions couldn't hear the birds' conversation.

If they could, they would probably nod and say, "Of course, that's Ian's raven for you!"

Both Ian and Oberon were weird in their own ways.

"What is he doing over there?"

"Ian? Looks like he's talking with Oberon."

"What?! He's talking to a bird? Is that even possible?"

Sigurd was startled by Ian's strange behavior.

First, he said he would make soup with a stone. Now he's talking to birds?

Are all wizards this peculiar?

Then Belenka spoke confidently.

"He's probably finished scouting the area and is reporting any unusual findings to Ian."

"Oh… scouting!"

"Ian uses birds to gather intel on his surroundings."

A strategic move, Belenka said.

Since Belenka had been with Ian the longest, both Kira and Sigurd just accepted it as fact.

They must be having a tactical discussion!

[Alright! Let's go, Chamssae! 100 wing flaps!]

[Yes, sir!]

Flap, flap, flap~

Ian alternated between looking at the birds and his companions, chuckling.

…It's really a good thing they're not wizards.

'Ominous. Truly ominous…!'

Pyra, the shaman of the Red Bear tribe, trembled as he looked at the cards on the table.

He was the tribe's only shaman and had the responsibility of representing the tribe in matters of gods and mysteries.

Recently, a major event had occurred in the North.

The failure of the Great Hunt.

The tribal chiefs were on high alert and the shamans were equally alarmed.

Historically, the shamans of the North served as advisors to the chiefs.

Reading the flow of nature and understanding the will of the gods made them indispensable in the harsh life of the North.

Before each Great Hunt, the shamans would always divine the future.

The results varied each time.

But the shamans would always parrot the same words like parrots:

'Of course! It will go well! Very, very well!'

There were times when the omens were positive and times when they were negative.

But those were just differences in detail; the Great Hunt itself almost never failed.

So, pretending to know better, no one would say things like, 'This year's hunt has a bad omen!'

Even if there were bad omens, would they not go ahead with the Great Hunt?

At most, they would just say, "Let's be careful this year."

So, when Pyra saw the negative omen before the Great Hunt, he didn't pay much attention.

But that "negative omen" wasn't just any negative omen.

The Great Hunt itself had completely failed!

The tribal chiefs foamed at the mouth and grilled the shamans relentlessly.

'You said you could predict the future, right? So why didn't you know?'

The shamans couldn't say anything, even if they had ten mouths.

The reason they read the future is to know good and bad omens in advance, but it became clear that it was useless.

Especially in the Red Bear tribe, the atmosphere was truly grim.

The chief was already suffering due to illness.

And the shaman couldn't even foresee the disaster ahead?

'That guy seems like a quack…'

'Should we just replace the shaman?'

Pyra knew.

His life was hanging by a thread!

If he repeated a few more mistakes, he might genuinely be exiled from the tribe, not as a joke.

Exile in the North meant certain death.

'Please… please…!'

Pyra felt like he would go mad as he looked at the cards before him.

The cards Pyra handled were divination tools called [Arcana Cards] used by the Northerners.

Cards said to have been painted by the northern god Hrundal himself with mystical pigments.

There are 22 known cards, and the shamans used them to glimpse the future.

On the table were [The Tower], [The Devil], and [Death].

Pyra felt dizzy because these cards all foretold the chief's health!

The chief of the Red Bear tribe was bedridden due to his declining strength.

His dutiful sons sent their finest warriors to fetch medicine for their father.

Among them, a warrior named "Berserker Bjorn" brought back the miraculous heart of a human from the Empire.

He hadn't ripped the heart out but had kidnapped the person to ensure freshness.

All that remained was to make medicine with the heart and feed it to the chief…

But Pyra, already scared out of his wits due to the Great Hunt failure, decided to divine the future once more before making the medicine.

If something went wrong and the chief died, Pyra would be done for that very day.

But the result of the divination was a complete mess.

'What the hell! What's going wrong?'

[The Tower] is a card that signifies something going wrong.

[The Devil] represents obsession with something.

[Death] indicates that a change is coming.

The card that disturbed Pyra the most was [The Tower].

Could it mean that Pyra would fail to make the chief's medicine?

All mysteries are ambiguous. They are mysterious because they cannot be communicated clearly.

One who can read mysteries accurately and understand their meaning is a great occultist.

Pyra pondered over and over again.

Mystery always sends signals to humans. The ability to read and interpret those signals is the difference in talent.

"Pyra, I'd like you to get started soon."

Ragnar, the chief's eldest son, approached Pyra and said.

Pyra had to cut open the offering's belly to make the medicine.

Preparing the mystical elixir was the shaman's domain.

"Wait… just wait a little longer."

"Wait longer?"

Ragnar frowned.

They had already waited over a week. And now they had to wait even longer?

'The omen… I must find the cause of this bad omen!'

If he made the medicine as things stood, something was bound to go wrong. It was the shaman's intuition.

"Pyra."

"I said we must wait!"

Ragnar and Pyra glared at each other.

'A quack who couldn't foresee the failure of the Grand Hunt…!'

'An idiot who knows nothing about the mysteries…!'

An awkward silence hung in the air.

Then, a voice was heard.

"Ragnar! You have visitors!"

"Visitors?"

"Sigurd! A warrior from the Ice Claw[2] tribe!"

The voice continued.

"He brought an Imperial too!"

'An Imperial!'

Pyra's eyes flew open.

The cause of the bad omen!

The Ice God's warning was finally clear!

"Ragnar! Send them away immediately!"

"What? Our guests?"

"They will ruin everything for us! They will keep us from making the medicine!"

Ragnar had called Pyra a quack shaman.

But just this once, Pyra's prediction was spot on.

Wizard Ian had indeed come to stop Pyra from making the elixir.