The northern coast of Aynu-mosir twisted and stretched for a thousand li. Across the entire coastline, from low thickets of grass and coniferous pine forests to tidal flats and waterways scoured out by frozen meltwater, traces of bitter cold were stamped everywhere. Farther south from the coast, endless mountains abruptly rose up, blocking the cold currents sweeping down from the north and filling the mind with visions of mysterious valleys.
"The Main God bears witness! There truly aren't any large tribes on the northern coast of this great island! According to what we've learned locally, the truly powerful Ainu great tribes, even tribal Alliances, are all behind the mountains, all in the warmer south!..."
Zuwaro stood at the bow of the Longship, gazing at the cliffs along the coast, imagining what lay behind the mountains.
Ever since leaving the "Fish Skin Tribe," the fleet had followed the coast from southeast to northwest, sailing a full eight hundred li. Along the way, they could see columns of cooking smoke rising, and occasionally they encountered small Ainu People's fishing boats. They had also landed six or seven times in succession, visiting quite a few small tribes of one or two hundred people.
The attitudes of these tribes varied. Some were wary and hostile; some were wary but friendly. There were even smaller tribes that were frightened out of their wits by so many elite warriors and simply knelt down in surrender... From the behavior of these tribes, Zuwaro's judgment became even clearer: there were many tribal conflicts on this great island, not at all inferior to those between the Mountain Tribe and Deer Tribe on the peninsula. Yet among these tribes, there seemed to be unwritten rules and customs. They did not slaughter with the same cruelty as the nomadic tribes of