Ur's eyelids twitched twice.
Pasfield's words had completely shattered Ur's preconceived image of the Vichy. You can know a face but not a heart; the ancients truly did not lie.
To outsiders, the Vichy had always seemed like an isolated, primitive tribe. Who would have imagined that this "primitive tribe" not only engaged in trade, but did so in such a secretive manner?
If the winter of the Northern Sea hadn't been approaching, and if the Vichy had possessed anything besides the Phantom Blue Water to trade, Pasfield might not have succeeded in communicating with them at all.
Before long, the Vichy elder brought several men aboard the Dori XVII.
A trade requires inspection first. That was the most basic rule of business.
Pasfield wasted no time. He led them into the cargo hold, which he had already prepared—an entire compartment filled to the brim with various kinds of food.
"This is only the first shipment. Once our first transaction is completed, more food will arrive shortly after," Pasfield said.
Because he hadn't known about the Vichy's so-called "sacred land" beforehand, the initial preparations were based only on the needs of an ordinary tribe. Moreover, he hadn't been certain the plan would even work, so the food supply wasn't enormous.
But after purchasing more information from a Vichy informant, Pasfield had immediately notified his people back on the continent. Those additional supplies were nearly here.
The elder's eyes gleamed faintly.
Due to their harsh environment, food had always been scarce for the Vichy. Even after establishing limited trade routes with outsiders, they had little to offer besides Azure Water. Even though it was produced in limited quantities. If not for the winter's arrival, the elder might never have agreed to this exchange.
"Honored guests, I have seen your sincerity. Now, would you care to witness ours?" The elder gave Pasfield a peculiar salute and spoke calmly.
"Of course. It would be my honor," Pasfield replied.
Even aside from the importance of the Phantom Blue Water, the previous betrayal alone made Pasfield determined to personally visit Gulya Glacier to put his mind at ease.
Ur accompanied Pasfield onto the elder's small boat, while Jangsen remained behind to guard the ship.
One must always be wary.
Until the trade was fully complete, Pasfield would never allow the Dori XVII to dock. At sea, the ship retained mobility.
Once docked, however, what might happen would be anyone's guess. The number of Vichy on Gulya Glacier far exceeded Ur and Pasfield's expectations. Because the Vichy preferred white furs, they had blended into the snowy landscape from afar. But upon landing, the two realized the area was densely packed with Vichy warriors.
Most were male, with fewer women present. A rough estimate put them at several hundred, each one clearly an elite of the tribe. Being watched by so many pairs of eyes at once, Ur remained composed, but Pasfield was far less calm.
The Vichy warriors' gazes were nothing like ordinary people's. These were fighters forged in brutal conditions, veterans of life-and-death struggles. Even when they meant to show goodwill, the ferocity in their eyes was hard to conceal. Pasfield felt his scalp tingle.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kakatu. I am temporarily in charge of guarding this sacred land." The elder spoke cheerfully as he led them deeper into the iceberg.
Compared to the other Vichy warriors, Kakatu hardly resembled one of them. There was no visible savagery about him; he seemed like nothing more than a kindly old man.
Yet in Ur's perception, the magical power within this old man was immense. Even Jangsen might not be his match.
The temperature atop the Gulya Glacier was extremely low. At least, that was Ur's guess, judging by Pasfield's slight trembling.
Kakatu was skilled in conversation. The atmosphere along the way remained lively, free of awkwardness. If there was any discomfort, it was only that there were rather too many Vichy accompanying them.
Crunch.
When Kakatu led them deep into the iceberg, he suddenly stopped, his boots pressing into the snow with a faint sound.
"Hm? Is something wrong, Mr. Kakatu?" Pasfield asked in confusion.
Before Kakatu could answer, Ur stepped in front of Pasfield. His dragon-hide cloak fluttered as a cold smile curved his lips.
"Isn't it obvious? Our dear Mr. Kakatu has prepared a grand welcoming ceremony for us."
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
The moment Ur finished speaking, nearly a hundred Vichy warriors burst out from all sides. Each held spears forged of stone or ice, their expressions fierce, killing intent blazing as they surrounded the two.
The sudden turn of events darkened Pasfield's face. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Kakatu?"
Kakatu turned around; gone was his earlier kindness. His face was icy, his eyes sharp with hostility. "What do you mean? You killed members of our Vichy tribe. Did you think there would be no price to pay?"
"Members of the Vichy?" Pasfield pondered briefly before his expression changed. He instinctively glanced at Ur.
Ur's face had also grown grim. A dangerous aura began to emanate from him.
Earlier, to extract information, he had indeed killed two Vichy. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. Now, however, it was clear someone had used that fact to set him up. His gaze slowly swept across the surrounding warriors. Killing intent flared in his eyes. In that instant, Ur had already arranged the funeral of the one who had set him up.
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