Barbarian Quest

Urich remembered Gizzle, the son of the tribe chief. He was now the leader of the Stone Axe Tribe.

'He was a warrior with decent skills.'

Gizzle stood out among his peers. As expected from the son of the chief, he was a warrior who grew up eating well and learning combat and hunting skills from great warriors.

Urich's very existence was Gizzle’s misfortune. Gizzle was undoubtedly a remarkable warrior, but he was always compared to Urich, who just happened to be around his age. Whenever Gizzle achieved something, like a good hunt or a battle contribution, Urich surpassed him without even trying.

The tribe chief's tent was in the center of the village. Tribe members flocked from all sides to see Urich’s face.

"Wow, that really is Urich, huh?"

"Urich the cursed…, the man who defied the taboo..."

People whispered. Urich just smiled at them.

"Enter, Urich.”

A warrior holding a spear said to Urich, parting the leather at the tent entrance. Urich bent his upper body to lower himself and entered.

A few rays of light streamed in through the tent's windows. In the center, a hearth burned.

Urich turned his gaze. There sat the tribe chief Gizzle, with influential elders and shamans on either side.

"You've returned, Urich," one of the elders, who was slightly stooped, said.

"I'd love to welcome you home, but try to understand the situation, Urich."

Gizzle spoke as he remained seated. His eyes were darkened with the charcoal paint underneath them, giving a fearsome look. He was dressed in shiny, quality leather befitting a chief and was adorned with eagle feathers on his head and shoulders to make him look much larger. It was a necessity for a tribe chief's presence.

'Gizzle has changed a lot since the last time I saw him. He has the dignity of a chief now.'

Urich walked forward. He had no intention of disrespecting Gizzle. The Stone Axe Tribe was his beloved family, and its leader, regardless of who it may be, deserved his respect.

"I've crossed the mountains and returned. I want to be Urich of the Stone Axe Tribe again," Urich stated plainly.

"Crossing the mountains, such blasphemous talk!" one of the male shamans exclaimed, shaking his wolf skull staff. He wasn't just a shaman awaiting death on the village outskirts; he presided over important tribal ceremonies.

"It’s true that I went up the mountains. But I don't think I climbed high enough to break any taboos. I just followed a bear up a bit. The mountains' bears led us. Doesn’t that mean we were guided by the mountains themselves?" Urich spoke calmly.

"Nonsense! You defied the taboo and were captured by the evil spirits! You are out of your mind, cursed by evil spirits. Eaten by them!" The shaman retorted. The other elders nodded in agreement.

"I went up the mountains. From the snowy peaks, I looked to both the east and west. I crossed the mountains, and it wasn't a world of spirits! In fact, it was a world inhabited by people like us. I saw it with my own eyes. You can keep talking, but I've experienced beyond the mountains with my own two legs. If you doubt it, go see for yourself if I’m really lying."

Urich took out one of his loads and opened it to show the room.

Chrrrrr.

Gold coins, gems, and ornaments spilled out of his bag. The tribe had never seen such treasures. To their eyes, the fine craftsmanship of civilization seemed beyond human skill.

"Oooh, oh!"

Even the elders marveled at the sparkling treasures. It was a vast fortune.

"Does this look like something given by evil spirits? They'd hardly gift such treasures to a cursed one. Beyond those mountains, things like these are everywhere. Even the average woman walking the streets wear necklaces like this," Urich said, lifting a sun necklace.

"Are you mocking us? Playing with us? Urich!" The shaman was furious.

Chief Gizzle, who had been sitting quietly, stirred.

Thump!

"Enough! This is not a place for your argument!"

Gizzle's intervention made the priest nod in agreement. The young tribal chief seemed to have earned considerable trust since his appointment.

"It is true that Urich has broken the taboo, chief," the priest declared, then fell silent. Gizzle, with eyes closed, rhythmically tapped the armrest of his chair.

"Urich, you have blatantly returned after you disregarded our traditions and taboos. If I were you, I wouldn't have returned at all."

Gizzle leaned his chin on his hand, pointing at Urich.

"I came back because I wanted to protect our tribe. Invaders from beyond the mountains are coming, and they are armed with shining swords and armor."

"If such people exist, then they must be evil spirits you have attracted. Are you trying to make yourself the savior? No way that’s going to happen. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

Gizzle sneered, his gaze falling upon the treasures and swords Urich had brought.

‘There’s no doubt that Urich really saw something from beyond the mountains and brought them here. The question is… what could he possibly have seen?’

Gizzle didn’t believe Urich's entire story. He pondered before continuing.

"For now, you must reflect and be confined. You are still our brother, so we will not exile you."

"Gizzle, the true enemy lies beyond the mountains. Think about it. You are a young and capable warrior, unlike these senile elders and deluded shamans who are stuck to their ways and always high on their herbs."

Urich gestured toward the elders and shamans, who stood up in anger, hurling insults and curses at him. Urich nonchalantly shrugged.

"There is going to be a battle soon. If you prove that you are still our brother, I will reconsider your words."

Gizzle dismissed the conversation with a wave of his hand, and Urich left the tent.

Silence lingered in the tent after Urich's departure.

"Chief! We must banish Urich immediately! He will bring calamity! Did you not see the shining swords and treasures? They are harbingers of doom, signals from evil spirits!"

The priest's fervent claim was supported by the shamans, who banged their staffs on the ground in agreement.

"You are not the chief; I, the son of Stezo, Gizzle, am. Are you challenging my authority?"

Gizzle retorted coolly. He had become a chief at a young age. He was sensitive to his authority and therefore did not tolerate any challenges to it.

"No, chief," the priest conceded, stepping back.

Gizzle scanned the elders and shamans.

"The Blue Mist Tribe's threat looms over us. They are right under our noses. We have more pressing issues than concerns about mountains or taboos."

"Young chief, we have had frequent rains for a while now. It will keep us fed. It might not be unwise to accede to the Blue Mist Tribe's tribute demands."

One of the elders offered his advice. The tide was in favor of the Blue Mist Tribe who were about two tribes away from the Stone Axe Tribe. They were conquering their neighboring tribes at an alarming rate and were demanding tributes from them.

"Nonsense! Paying tribute to them is absurd!" Gizzle vehemently opposed the idea. It was an unacceptable result.

"There are rumors of the Blue Mist Tribe finding iron-rich land. If true, they would be heavily armed."

Iron was the most valuable resource in trade. Judging by the rate of the expansion of the Blue Mist Tribe, there was a good chance that the rumors were true.

"Conceding without a fight is madness. Do you not trust me?" Gizzle challenged aggressively.

"It's not that, chief. Let's conserve our warriors until we confirm the facts. Rushing into battle without proper evaluation would be unwise."

Gizzle dismissed the conversation and stood up to show that he didn’t care for their opinion.

‘Old cowards.’

Gizzle shooed away the elders and shamans as he clicked his tongue. The young chief Gizzle was being tested. The future of his tribe was up to his decision. Is he going to face the massive threat that is the Blue Mist Tribe, or is he going to play it safe and offer the tribute like they demanded?

Despite knowing which choice was safer without being told by the elders, Gizzle yearned for glory and honor found in victory, not submission. He didn’t want to be a cowardly chief who gave in to his enemy without a fight.

'And now this madman speaks of threats from beyond the mountains... I am going to lose my mind.'

Yet, Urich's formidable presence and quality weapons reaffirmed his value as a warrior. In these times, such a warrior was indispensable. Otherwise, Gizzle would have already issued an exile order.

* * *

Urich stayed in Vald's tent for a while. Despite being supposedly confined for a while, many warriors visited him regardless. Young warriors, unconcerned about curses or taboos, were curious about Urich's claim of crossing the mountains, especially since he brought back treasures and swords as proof. Many believed the story of his journey across the mountains.

"Blue Mist?"

Urich asked Vald about a name he had been hearing frequently.

"Yes, that Blue Mist."

"They're just a tribe that fish around a lake, right? They're quite far from us, what do they have to do with us?"

Urich recalled the Blue Mist Tribe's land. It was a place that was always foggy during the rainy season and abundant in water even in dry seasons.

"It's just a rumor, but apparently they’ve found iron-bearing land," Vald commented, sipping from his horn cup with a frown.

'Iron.'

Urich paused. Iron was a precious resource in the tribe; hence blacksmiths were highly respected.

'If the Blue Mist Tribe has found iron, it makes sense they'd expand.'

Iron meant power.

"So, they are demanding tribute?"

"They've been subjugating nearby tribes one by one. It's like they're declaring themselves the dominant power in the area."

"Crazy bastards."

Urich cursed. However, establishing a hierarchy among tribes was common. Tribes had fought each other for ages.

"If the Blue Mist Tribe messes with us, we'll have to fight back. Gizzle isn't the type to pay tribute. It’s just not in his nature."

Vald said as he caressed his spear. He too was a warrior of the Stone Axe Tribe who was always prepared to offer his life for them.

"Vald, I've heard you've been through a lot."

Urich hadn't been idle during his confinement. He went around town and gathered people who showed him favor, collecting information about events that happened during his three-year absence.

"What hardship? I never liked Gizzle anyway. And you practically saved my life. Soon, those who clung to Gizzle will return to you too, so don’t be too harsh on them."

Vald chuckled.

'Our brother Urich has returned.'

Urich's influence was remarkable. He quickly won over the tribe's youth. His tale of crossing the mountains drew both disdain and admiration.

"But Urich."

Vald gazed through the tent flap at the mountains.

"Huh?"

Vald looked up with uneasy eyes.

"If beyond the mountains isn't the resting place of spirits, where do our ancestors' spirits rest?"

Urich smiled bitterly. He knew the question was going to come. But he was no shaman, nor was he a priest.

"Well, I don't know."

Urich answered, waving his hand over the fire.

"I trust you, Urich. But we need an answer. Where do our souls go? It's not just me wondering."

"I know., I know."

Urich understood Vald's feelings. The uncertainty and restlessness of lost souls. Yet, even Urich hadn't found that answer yet.

'Where do we go after we die?'