Chapter 88: The Shadow of the Old Regime
"Shaman, how good it is to see you!" said a villager as he walked past.
As Kellar walked through the central plaza of the settlement, everyone in his path greeted him with enthusiasm and bowed deeply in respect. Kellar returned the greetings with a wave of his hand and a calm smile. However, noticing that the leader was walking alone through the center of the village, a large group of people decided to take advantage of the opportunity, believing it was the easiest moment to approach him.
"Greetings, Shaman. Can we have a minute with you?" said the man leading the group.
Seeing them gathered together, Kellar searched through the memories of the former Kellar. Those faces belonged to the heads of the most influential and privileged families in the tribe during the previous chieftain’s rule; many of them were tied to the hunters under Mark’s group, the uncle of Tor.
Tor... what ever happened to that idiot? Whatever, I’ll look for him later, Kellar thought to himself.
"Of course, of course," said Kellar, crossing his arms. "Did you come alone, or do you represent someone else? The Bear God has already revealed to me why you are here, so there is no need to beat around the bush."
Seeing that Kellar did not back down or show a single trace of hesitation in their collective presence, the family heads realized that the start of their plan was facing serious trouble.
Kellar gestured toward the main huts.
"Call Krag, Mentz, and Lennis, I need them here immediately," said Kellar.
Grok, who was still following close behind him like a silent ghost from the shadows, unhooked the hunting horn from his hip and blew it with all his might. The sharp tone echoed across the entire settlement. That was the exact signal used by his hunting squad to coordinate during emergencies.
In the distance, Krag heard the blast and took off running leaving behind the catch they had just hauled in with the harpoons. The other hunters followed him without hesitation. It was the horn of Grok, the shaman’s personal guard; if he was blowing it, it could only mean the leader was in danger. A few fish could never replace Kellar’s life, so the entire guard sprinted desperately to protect their leader.
The group surrounding Kellar watched the scene with growing unease. His summoning power bordered on absolute worship. If they dared to use force, Krag and his men would show them no mercy.
"Great Shaman, since the gods have revealed to you the reason for our visit, we will speak plainly," said the spokesman of the group, stepping forward. "We are dissatisfied with how you have handled the situation. We have always been devoted to this tribe, but you have stripped away the livelihood of our families. Ever since the death of the former shaman, our power has been reduced. At this moment, we are too weak to attempt hunting anywhere on our own, and we can only wait for the scraps of food that you prepare. I consider the treatment our families have received to be disgraceful."
Despite having rehearsed the speech all night long, the speaker still sounded robotic, poorly structured, and far more threatening than conciliatory. Kellar could barely hold back a mocking smirk: even if they had spent hours practicing their words, in his eyes they were still nothing more than barbarians trying to play politics.
Kellar looked at them coldly, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips.
"If you see it that way, why don’t I see anyone else complaining?" said Kellar, gesturing toward the crowd of villagers working contentedly all around them. "Everyone else seems grateful. Furthermore, you say you have lost your livelihood... Have I not distributed the exact same amount of food to friend and stranger alike? Is there anyone in this settlement going hungry under my command? Tell me who, and I will fix it immediately."
The family heads bit their lips, clenching their fists in a suffocating silence to keep from answering. They could not openly admit before the gathering crowd that what they truly demanded were extra benefits, class privileges, and luxuries, just as they had enjoyed under the former chieftain. To them, receiving the exact same food ration and treatment as the common villagers was not equality: it was insulting and humiliating.
Seeing the men left speechless, the patience of one of the noblewomen in the group snapped. Stepping forward with her face contorted in rage, she pointed a trembling finger directly at Kellar.
"This is an outrage! I cannot keep listening to this nonsense!" said the woman, spitting her words with utter contempt. "How dare you treat us as if we were equal to those worms in the lower huts? My children are direct descendants of the great shaman from four generations ago and the clan leader from three! We carry the purest, most noble blood in this entire valley!"
Her words lit the fuse for the rest of the group. The other women, feeling emboldened, broke their silence and began screaming in fury, unleashing a torrent of insults and demands.
"Do you even think you are a human, you wretched low-born dog!" said another matron, stepping up while clutching her fine furs tightly. "You are nothing more than a wild beast who usurped our lord’s throne! A starving bastard who doesn’t know his proper place!"
"Give us back what is ours by divine right!" said a third, her voice cracking with hysteria. "We were born to rule and eat the finest meals, not to stand in line like beggars alongside the servants! You are a monster without honor!"
"Look of a beast, soul of a beast!" said the first woman again, stepping right up until she was barely two paces away from Kellar. "Your gods are a lie and your rule is a disgrace! You should be on your knees begging for forgiveness from the noble families for the hunger and dishonor you have brought upon us!"
The atmosphere in the central plaza turned suffocating as the furious shrieks of the women echoed off the timber huts, drawing the stunned, wide-eyed stares of all the surrounding villagers.