The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Episode 63 The Protagonist of Hunting (3)

Vikir sits in his barracks, stoking the fire in the fire pit.

” …… are you there?”

A thin voice called from outside.

As Vikir walks out of his leaf insignia, he sees a girl with black hair and dark eyes looking up at him with a shy expression.

It was the same girl who had risen at the crack of dawn the previous day and stood in line outside the chieftain’s barracks.

“The chief is looking for you, I’ve come to deliver a message.”

She must have come on an errand.

Vikir immediately started walking toward the chieftain’s barracks.

Then.

“Ah, hey, hey!”

The girl calls out to Vikir.

When Vikir turned his head, the girl was flushed red and stammering.

“Hey, thank you for grilling the meat the other day, it was delicious!”

She must be referring to the roasting of meat in the hunting expeditions.

Vikir gave a quick nod and turned away. The chieftain called me, I have to get going.

* * * https://pindangscans.com

Even the warriors of Balak, who roam freely in all parts of the jungle, are not allowed to act recklessly, especially in the presence of the chieftain Aquila.

Vikir enters through the curtain and immediately sees a mounted eagle at the far end of the barracks.

Beneath it, in a large chair, sat Chieftain Aquila.

A stern-looking woman, scars scattered across her face.

She’s not very tall, but her rich eagle-feathered cloak and the sense of power she exudes make you think you’re facing a giant.

In particular, the large scar over one of her eyes made the audience feel intimidated.

Nicknamed the Night Fox, she is the current leader of the Balak and their strongest warrior.

She has won back-to-back victories over Hugo Les Baskervilles, patriarch and swordmaster of House Baskerville, and Morg Adolf, deputy and sixth-class master of House Morg.

It is because of her that the Balak, who total only about three hundred in number, are feared by the empires and are known as the strongest warrior tribe in the jungle.

“Chieftain.”

Vikir dropped to one knee and bowed his head in the manner of his training.

Aquila, the Night Fox, the greatest archer said to have ever lived since Adonai, the legendary archer who led the Balak at their height centuries ago.

She lifted her one and only eye and gazed upon Vikir with admiration.

Unlike Imperial speech, which circles around its purpose in greetings and praise, Balak’s is straightforward and raw.

“I see you caught an oxbear this time. Thanks to you, we have delicious meat.”

Aquila spoke with a gentle smile that belied her first impression.

His voice was as regal as Hugo’s, but without the edge, and instead warm and gentle.

“No, Chief. I was only doing what I was supposed to do.”

“There is no need to be humble. A job well done is a job well done.”

Aquila smiled even more warmly at Vikir’s modesty.

Vikir was genuinely surprised that the terrifying night fox was capable of such a smile.

Finally, Aquila spoke.

“In recognition of your deeds of yesterday, I am relieving you of your status. You are no longer a slave, but a member of our family.”

From this moment on, Vikir was no longer a slave, but officially a member of the Balak family.

Then.

“……cough.”

A sound of hollow coughing filled with disgust.

Vikir glanced sideways to see a grizzled old man glaring at him with his mouth clamped shut.

“You must be the old man who used to smear ash on the faces of young hunters.

Ahmen, the shaman of Balak.

He was the most powerful man in the village, except for the chief, Aquila.

He is not well-liked by the young, who dislike old traditions and superstitions, but all the older, more seasoned hunters put their trust in him.

The saying “There are no atheists in the trenches” is true.

People who have been through the storms of life are always looking for something to lean on spiritually, and Ahmen understood exactly that.

“By the way, did I mention…… Ahun was the son of that old man?

Ahun, the young hunter who always wears his heart on his sleeve, looks uncomfortable over there, and I can see Ahmen’s feelings echoed in his face.

Apparently, he doesn’t like Aquila’s recognition of Vikir.

And there’s no way Aquila doesn’t know that Vikir has noticed.

“Hey, shaman.”

Aquila turned his head to look at Ahman.

“……Yes, Chief.”

“You don’t like that I’ve accepted that boy as a member of the tribe?”

Aquila asked bluntly.

Ahmen may be powerful in the tribe, but a chieftain’s authority is absolute.

He immediately recognizes the hint of vulnerability in Aquila’s words and bows his head deeply.

“Of course not, it’s just that I’m a little concerned about blood of Imperial origin being transfused within the tribe.”

“That is not for a shaman to worry about. All you have to do is make sure the rains are good when they come, the prayers are good when the warriors go hunting, the fires are good when there’s a war, the memorials are good when there’s a death, and the wards are good when there’s a plague.”

At Aquila’s cut-and-dried words, Ahmen bowed his head deeply.

Behind him, he could see Aiyen clucking his tongue.

Well, whatever.

Aquila recognized Vikir’s contributions to the hunting frestival and raised his status to official tribe member.

Aquila glanced down at Vikir’s limp body.

“You seem to have recovered quite a bit, I can’t believe how quickly.”

“Thanks to your care.”

“It’s done. I didn’t take care of anything. If I have any virtue, it’s in my daughter.”

Aquila glanced away and looked at Aiyen, who stood against the wall.

“…….”

Aiyen glanced away from her mother’s gaze and whispered something else.

Finally, Aquila spoke up.

“Now that you are officially a member of the Balak, tell me what you want. You are one of my own, and I have not been able to give birth to and raise you, so I will give you something in return.”

When she had finished, Aquila spoke softly.

“There are many eligible young women in the village. If you wish, I will find one of them and claim her as your mate. Or a slave, if that’s not what you need. I have quite a few girls from other tribes that I’ve captured as prisoners of war.”

There was a brief murmur from outside the tent.

It was the chatter of the village women who had been lined up outside the chieftain’s barracks since dawn.

But Vikir shook his head.

“I appreciate the offer, but the mate is fine.”

Wives and female slaves alike were being offered to increase birth rates, a ploy to capitalize on the human tendency to settle where children are born.

When Vikir rejected the offer, Aquila seemed to consider for a moment.

“Hmm. You don’t want a woman, do you? That’s unusual. Most of the men among the outsiders want women.”

In truth, most of Balak’s people were good-looking and beautiful.

Their bodies were built for hunting and training, and their eyes and hair were unusually healthy and vibrant, unlike those of other tribes.

The warriors of the Balak are unusually attractive compared to the other tribes of the Barbarian.

Thanks to the occasional transfusions of blood from the outside world, they’ve never developed inbreeding diseases.

Perhaps that’s why invaders from the outside often targeted Balak maidens.

Of course, almost all of them are reduced to wolf’s food by her arrows. ……

Meanwhile, Aquila wrinkled the corners of her nose a little. She seemed to be thinking.

“So, what do you want me to give you, half of the oxbear hide you caught?”

Oxbear hides are a very valuable treasure.

Vikir almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the offer to cut it in half.

Cutting an animal’s hide in half reduces its value to one-tenth of what it is worth, and as someone who knows value, that’s not something I want to see.

Just then.

“……!”

Vikir felt a gaze shoot to his side.

Aiyen was glaring at him intently.

“You didn’t forget what I told you, did you?

That look, the look that spoke with her eyes.

Aquila glanced sideways at her daughter, as if she were not used to seeing her like that.

Aiyen is still furiously sending signals to Vikir, unaware that Aquila has seen her.

Eventually, Vikir speaks up, as Aiyen had urged him to before.

“Material rewards are fine. However, I was wondering if you would be willing to take a bath in the Fountain of Valor?”

Before answering Aquila’s call, Aiyen had insisted that Vikir mention this as his desired reward.

For the first time, Aquila frowned.

“……hmm.”

If even Aquila, who was quite friendly with Vikir, could react like this, what about the others?

Most of the old men swallowed their grunts in disgust.

Shaman Ahheman, who was in the front row, snapped.

“You fool! Who are you to speak in front of me?”

As if he couldn’t take it anymore, Ahheman strode forward and knelt before Aquila.

“Chieftain! For generations, it has been only the proud warriors of Balak who have been allowed to bathe in the Fountain of Valor!”

The murmuring around them grew louder.

Ahun, standing at the entrance to the barracks, spoke sarcastically.

“The Fountain of Valor is only for those who have proven their strength. How dare you.”

Aiyen, standing on the other side, spoke up.

“Vikir has already proven his strength. He captured an oxbear and submitted it to this hunting festival!”

“Hmph. I guess I was just throwing rocks at him from behind when he was hunting.”

“And you have a back like that from being hit by a rock?”

Ahun’s body began to shake as Aiyen gestured to the bandages and casts wrapped around his waist.

At Aquila’s question, Vikir thought for a moment, then nodded.

“….The Fountain of Valor. Do you know what it is?”

It is a small spring that flows deep beneath the waters of Balak’s holiest site, the Tomb of the Champions, where only the bravest and strongest of Balak’s greatest warriors are buried.

It was said to be blessed by the great ancestors and to cure all internal wounds and traumas by simply taking a dip.

However, the water level is very low, the water takes a long time to collect, and the effects are halved if too many people enter, so the Balak only allow access to warriors who have earned special recognition from generation to generation.

“Patriarch, that’s too much to ask for, how can you allow an outsider who’s only just arrived to enter the holy grounds……!”

“Still, he’s quite the prospect, having captured an oxbear, so it might not be a bad idea to motivate him for once.”

“Nonsense! Since when did the Fountain of Valor become a place where anyone can soak in it!”

“Heh, but he doesn’t look like he’s even grown up, so we should be nice to him since he’s part of the family.”

The elders around him are also arguing.

Some looked favorably on the capture of the oxbear at a time of need for the entire tribe, while others did not.

Aquila was secretly tempted to grant Vikir’s request, but she was certainly a little too weak to use the oxbear hunt as a justification.

Some, including Aheman, were less than enthusiastic about having Vikir as a member of the family in the first place, and were even more adamantly opposed to the Fountain of Valor.

Aquila wanted to grant her daughter’s petition if she could, but it was a bit of a dilemma with the shaman and his unfriendly forces so strongly opposed.

Just then.

Ding, ding, ding, ding.

A loud bell suddenly rang out from the top of the watchtower that stood on the border of the clan’s enclosure, the village.

At the same time, a watchman shouted.

“The outsiders have arrived!”

Something had happened in the village.