Lanec was small for a Neran, though he figured he made up for it with is stellar personality. This combination usually worked in his favour when dealing with the stout Hrothi who shared his size and temperament. It did however present some challenges when trading with the Brood.
He let out a short laugh, pleased with his little nickname for the Brudvir.
It was well known that Brudvir kinfolk were tight as thieves and not all that welcoming to outsiders, especially in the kind of backwater hamlet where he was headed. The apparent obsession with hunting and blood rituals of this particular Anemoi tribe made them great fare for children’s bedtime stories across the southern kingdoms. Of course, any trader worth his wares had to know his customers and tailor his approach accordingly. These Brood were no exception.
He was in the middle of contemplating his opening pitch when his mount’s tether went taught, almost yanking him off his feet. The horse had halted at a deep ditch running across their path. Bloody taiga, he thought, for a moment questioning why he was trudging through this rough country. The late summer rains had led to flooding in these parts and he had been forced to abandon his horsecart a few miles back. Making his way on foot, he was leading his workhorse with its big packs over the newly formed rivulets the rain had carved out of the already sad excuse for a road in front of him.
Adjusting his course, he got his beast moving again and returned to his thoughts. He knew very well why he was here and understood how muich coin the upcoming deals would bring. It was, after all, the fine furs of tiny Skoghall that graced noble shoulders across the realm. Their rare lustre and comfort meant these pelts were a premium compared to those of his competitors, and these secluded suppliers were his best kept secret.
The distant crack of a leather strap made Tahlem freeze, his sharp eyes scanning the fields that stretched between him and the river to the north. He stood at the edge of the immeasurable Greywood forest, astride an old deer path along which he had been travelling. A breath escaped his dry lips as he spotted the lone traveller below him, struggling with his steed along the washed-out road. His clothes and travel packs marked his trade - a merchant.
Tahlem had been trailing his pupil who was on a sacred hunt, a short distance ahead. Though aging, Tahlem still had the physicality to participate in the hunting activities of the village and enjoyed stretching his legs.
The name Tah-lem meant someone who barters, a title he earned in his youth, haggling with the farmers at market. Now he walked the lifepath of a Korvir, a spirit guide. He no longer bartered in coins, dealing instead with the powers of the otherworld, teaching his clan and aiding the spirits in their journey to become Mann. Skogshall was small, and usually would not have supported its own Korvir, but he also hunted and provided for the clan in both spiritual and physical sustenance.
When he was still a boy, a lone Korvir from Erzhalden had reached their village seeking refuge from wars in her homeland. She had been adopted by the clan, and had taken Tahlem as her pupil, raising him in the ways of the otherworld. He had learned everything he could, following her every step till the day her spirit left.
These days, Tahlem did his best to pass on the old Korvir’s teachings, and guided those who would listen, like his student Mahti. The adolescent was mostly grown out, nearly a mann, and had all the ambition and impatience to go along with it.
Mahti had jumped at the chance Tahlem had given him yesterday after a lone wolf was sighted on the outskirts of town. “The den needs a brave warrior to go out and meet this lone spirit”, Tahlem announced to those around the hearth. Somber faces had looked back at him in the glow of the evening fire, but before anyone could speak, the youth had stood up, meeting the Korvir’s eyes, his answer given.
Down on the road the merchant was making progress and would no doubt reach Skoghall by nightfall, Tahlem reckoned. Returning to his deer path, he kept one ear open to the sound of the woods, and the other for Mahti.
