The elderly Leatherworker from Rokube mumbled, looking at the excellent deerskin, his eyes full of reluctance. The young Hunter beside him, however, paid it no mind, enthusiastically tanning the dehaired leather.
In the Nomadic Tribes of Northeast Asia, if these skins are not hardened, they could be crafted into very soft and smooth furs. Then they could be sewn into boots, leather jackets, and mats, or even made into amazingly beautiful leather carvings and paintings!
In the migration camps of the Deer Moss River Tribe, there used to be a beautiful cowhide painting depicting the "Eternal Blue Sky," the "Great Tenggeri." It was a heritage leather painting obtained by the tribe two hundred years ago, supposedly from the Horse Tribe further to the west, originating from the fertile grasslands once road by their Ancestors, from the powerful Empire that once unified the entire steppe and enfeoffed the various clans of Extre North Asia!
However, that legendary grassland Empire, as powerful as the blue sky, was defeated and dissolved by the even stronger Southern Tribes, like the red sky. Since then, no envoys from the steppe Empire have co east to this forgotten snowy land of Extre North Asia...
"May the Chief Divine who governs flas bless us! Is the fish bladder glue ready? How's the pounding of deer sinew threads coming along? The fine wooden bow bodies are all prepared; we're just missing these crucial steps of gluing and binding threads!..."
"Alright! Applying the glue now... Be careful, the climate is cold, the glue sets quickly! Rember, these few newly glued bows must be checked every day, and about six or seven days later, we'll apply deer sinews... As for these bows with the glue already, we apply sinews today... Watch closely my craft, learn it!..."
The old Hunter Rokube shouted loudly, carefully crafting the Composite Horn Bows, a skill honed by the Hunting Tribe, along with several seasoned tribespeople. This is a true technical job, and a very slow one. A good and durable horn bow often requires dozens of processes and takes at least a year to complete. Among them, the most crucial, determining success or failure, are the steps of glue cooking and application!
"Witness the Chief Divine! The glue extracted from the bellies of yellow croaker and sea bass is the finest fish bladder glue, and the cooking ti must be well-controlled. After gluing, we must consider the material of the bow and the condition of the glue... Without ten years of bow-making expertise and skills in glue preparation and control, it is impossible to make a fine bow!..."
After fitting a horn bow, a confident smile appeared on the old Hunter Rokube's honest face. As the outstanding Bowyer of the Deer Moss River Tribe, after being captured, he not only avoided becoming a Pastoral Slave but also gained further status in the newly ford Deer Tribe. Even when the Shaman Chieftain Zuwaro sees him, he would greet and inquire with a smile, asking "Have you eaten?" "Did you pray before and after als?"...
Actually, as Nomadic Tribes of Northeast Asia, whether it's the Deer Tribe, the Mountain Part, or the Tent Tribe, they maintain a practical attitude towards faith. What truly sustains their loyalty is whether the tribe's Force is strong and whether food and fuel are adequate. As long as a Leader has sufficient food and has a reputation for bravery or Spirit Communication, it is easy to gather a group of belligerent tribespeople to attack and plunder other weaker small tribes, just like last year's southward raid after the freeze...
"Chief Divine! On the Great Island to the south, although there are many Island Tribes, they are all impoverished beyond belief, not an ounce of oil to their na... And what is the Shaman Chieftain thinking, capturing these small, short tribespeople from the Island Tribes back here, and holding that island girl every day, doing exactly what? Adding a hundred more mouths to feed in the tribe is no small matter! Having food and shelter to safely get through the winter is truly a bargain for this group of small Island Tribespeople..."
Thinking of this, the old Hunter Rokube squinted his eyes, looking at the newly built line of dugouts to the south. Dozens of short, hairy tribespeople from the Ainu Tribe, all with the Chief Divine's Emblem engraved on their foreheads, were working on heavy carpentry around the shed. They had to construct their specialty small fishing boats quickly while the weather was clear and warm. When the spring thaw ca after April, it would be the perfect ti for fishing!
Farther away, so short Island Tribe fishern were crouching on the icy shore, ice fishing, supplenting the fish stock for the newly joined tribe. A peculiar Central Arican stone tower stood fixed on the solidified seashore, facing the sunrise direction of the East.
The Chief Divine's altar was stacked at the highest point of the pyramid-shaped small stone tower, with a Hummingbird flag standing quietly, and below it a pottery basin full of ashes was placed. The lingering blue smoke, in the cold air, solidified and transford into enigmatic shapes, reminiscent of a Shaman's prophecy of heavenly ons...
At this mont, a Priest wearing a Feather Crown stood before the nearly extinguished fire basin, gazing at the peculiar altar and stone tower. In the traditions of multiple Central Arican Tribes, such altar-capped stone towers were actually the burial sites of Nnobility and Samurai, serving as resting places linking the Divine Kingdom and the Abyss...
"Chief Divine, bless us! May the spirits of the devoted ascend to the distant and beautiful Divine Kingdom!..."
After a long gaze, Zuwaro sighed softly, praying for the departed Samurai and Priests. Then he tried to widen his eyes, staring at the east where the sun rose. That direction was of his holand, a place everyone left from miles away, perhaps a ho to which they could never return...
"Zuwaro... What are you doing? You seem... very sad..."
The Ezo girl Thousand Island Shell lifted her head, gently tugging on Zuwaro's sleeve, timidly glancing at the mysterious stone tower. Then she tiptoed with effort, reaching Zuwaro's handso chin, and leaned up to kiss softly...
"Well... Zuwaro, by the tribe's customs, now that I've followed you and moved into the sa wooden hut... you can tell whatever troubles you!..."
"Alright, Shell, I was just praying to the Chief Divine... Although this stone tower tomb seems empty, it holds sixty-two devoted souls within! Thirty of them are Northern Land tribespeople, thirty Kingdom's Samurai, and two nobles from the Prepetcha Priests, all buried in last year's storm and fog sea...
Saying this, Zuwaro paused for a mont, his eyes sowhat reddened. He couldn't help but reach out his strong arms, gently embracing the soft, yellow-haired girl. He whispered lowly, his deep eyes looking towards the sky, tears of sorrow dropping in the glaring sunlight, under the reverent gaze of the girl.
"Chief Divine, bless us! This icebound Far North Sea is the burial ground for the devoted. Their bodies sink to the seabed, flesh returning to Chaos, while their bones remain immortal in the deathly Abyss. But their martyred spirits, in that red, fertile realm, will enjoy eternal peace and beauty!"
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