Chapter 218: Crystals from the Underworld

The contingent’s return to the main village turned into an impromptu parade. As soon as the vanguard crossed the wooden gates, news spread, and villagers poured out from their huts and workshops to line the main road.

This time, the wagons were not carrying the corpses of hunted beasts or prisoners bound in chains. The supply carts were loaded with tons of brown crystals that emitted a golden glow, looking valuable beneath the sunlight. The people stared at the rocks in awe, and whispers rippled through the crowd about the beauty and rarity of the stones, which looked like liquid gold trapped within the earth.

The soldiers who had taken part in the battle lost no time in puffing out their chests and recounting the ordeal to those gathering around the carts. They told stories of how they had extracted the treasure buried deep beneath the ground and fought shoulder to shoulder against nightmare beings made of fire and stone. Some exaggerated the details, claiming the monsters were titans that spewed blasts of fire from their jaws and could regrow severed limbs in seconds.

As stories of the cavern battle passed from mouth to mouth, Kellar’s stature grew even more imposing in the eyes of his people. The Shaman’s power—capable of delving into the depths of the earth to conquer fire demons and claim their treasures—became further entrenched in the mind of every villager, earning him a deeper level of respect and devotion throughout the village.

Kellar dismounted from Ignis’s back and gave the bear a pat on the neck to signal him to rest. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Mentz approached him with firm steps, offering a nod.

"Mentz, has everything been fine here?" asked Kellar, dusting off his clothes from the trip.

"All is in order with the guard, Shaman," said Mentz. "However, we have a situation."

Kellar paused and looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"A group of nomads arrived a short while ago asking for asylum," said Mentz.

"Asylum? That’s great," said Kellar with a smile, showing enthusiasm. "Where are they? I want to meet them."

"They are waiting outside the village," said Mentz. "It is not within my authority to allow unknown people to enter without your approval."

Kellar nodded in approval at Mentz’s caution and walked toward the southern entrance of the village, which faced the dense forest, accompanied by the guard captain and a group of soldiers.

Upon reaching the checkpoint, Kellar spotted the nomads gathered at the edge of the trail. There were a dozen people, including a few elders and children, all clad in travel-worn furs and bearing signs of exhaustion and malnutrition on their faces. They brought no animals or heavy belongings, carrying only what was on their shoulders.

Upon noticing Kellar and his entourage, a tall man with wind-weathered skin took a step forward. He bore faded tribal markings across his face and carried a worn wooden staff in his hand. He bowed before the Shaman in a gesture of respect.

"I am Kellar, Shaman and leader of this tribe," said Kellar, stopping a few paces away and observing them. "Where do you come from, and what brings you to our lands?"

"Great Shaman, my name is Yael," said the nomad leader in a raspy voice. "We come from the northern plains, beyond the Great River. Our tribe was decimated by the frosts and the beasts that descended from the peaks. We have been wandering for weeks searching for a safe haven. We heard rumors that a unified tribe was thriving here under the protection of a lord, and we have come to beg for permission to serve your people in exchange for shelter and food."

Kellar listened and knit his brows.

"Who told you that? Where did you hear these rumors?" asked Kellar.

"Several surrounding villages know about it, and they all say the same thing," said Yael. "I don’t know who started the rumor, but almost every nearby village is planning to come and seek asylum. However, many are still hesitant out of fear of the unknown."

Kellar reflected in silence for a few seconds on the implications of that news.

"I assume you are the leader," said Kellar, looking at Yael. "Come with me. First, I would like to speak with you alone before making a decision."

Kellar turned toward the guard captain.

"Mentz, have our guests eaten anything yet?" asked Kellar.

"No, sir..." said Mentz. "They just arrived today, and..."

"Order food to be brought for them," said Kellar. "We cannot leave them suffering; that goes against the teachings of the Bear God. Remember that, like the Great Bear, we must share our food with the less fortunate. Just as the Great Bear leaves portions of the fish he hunts so others can feed, we must not be stingy."

Upon hearing Kellar’s words, all the visitors stood up and bowed until their foreheads touched the ground, speaking words of gratitude as tears welled in their eyes, for they were starving to death.

Yael and Kellar arrived at the command center, the wooden hut where strategic meetings were held.

Kellar walked to a corner and brought out a cask of wine that he kept reserved. He poured the liquor into three bone mugs that the tribe’s craftsmen had crafted for him, carved from the remains of the Great Eagle King’s corpse.

He handed one to Mentz and another to Yael, while pouring the third for himself.

The nomad leader took the mug and drank, driven by the thirst he had accumulated over weeks of marching. He could barely taste the liquor during the first few gulps; however, the strong aftertaste of alcohol lingered in his throat, warming his stomach and allowing his throat to relax after so much strain.

"So Yael, right?" asked Kellar, leaning against the table.

"That is correct, my lord," said Yael, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "My name is Yael."

Kellar looked him in the eye, holding his bone mug.

"Tell me, Yael... why do you expect us to accept you into our tribe? Why do you think we would?"