Landlord in the Arctic

CLATTER!

A sudden, chaotic clatter of toppling chairs shattered the tavern’s prior silence.

Like a startled flock of birds, the chiefs scrambled to their feet.

In the frantic rush, several chairs were knocked to the ground, scattering and clattering across the wooden floor.

"Feng, you’re here!" As expected of a cunning veteran, Chief Welta was the first to compose himself after the initial moment of panic.

He first shot a look at the other tense-looking chiefs, silently telling them to calm down.

Then, a broad smile quickly spread across his face.

His deeply wrinkled face beamed as he greeted Feng Shan with immense warmth.

"What are you all chatting about?" Feng Shan’s expression was as calm as ever, as if he hadn’t noticed their strange behavior. He wore a look of perfectly feigned curiosity and asked in a relaxed tone.

In his heart, he knew exactly what was going on. ’This bunch, huddled together... They’re definitely up to no good. I’ll just wait and see what kind of show they put on for me.’

"We were talking about the F— Ah!" Perhaps he was too nervous, but on an impulse, Old Pete from Point Laya Village subconsciously blurted out the key piece of information.

But the words had barely reached his lips, before he could get out more than a single letter, when he let out a piercing shriek and grabbed his foot.

Beside him, Kivalina Chief Louise’s expression changed in an instant, the shift appearing perfectly natural.

She bent down with an innocent expression, picked up the chair that had just landed on Old Pete’s foot, and said in a flat tone,

"Sorry, buddy. Didn’t see your foot there."

"N-n-no... I’m fine. It was my fault for putting my foot there!"

Old Pete grimaced, clutching his injured foot with both hands, the miserable look on his face plain for all to see.

But inwardly, he breathed a silent sigh of relief, feeling incredibly fortunate.

’Thank goodness for Louise. That stomp stopped the words from coming out. If I’d actually revealed the whole plan...’

’...I would’ve become a traitor to all the Indigenous People of Alaska.’

At that moment, the atmosphere in the tavern grew even more bizarre.

The chiefs stood around, each harboring their own ulterior motives, their exchanged glances full of furtive scheming.

A faint smile played on Feng Shan’s lips as he calmly sized up the assembly of so-called "elders, invalids, and women" before him.

He might label them as such, but in reality, every one of these tribal chiefs was as sharp as a tack, each more cunning and calculating than the last.

Then, Feng Shan casually bent down, picked up one of the overturned chairs, and calmly sat down.

He crossed his legs, rested his hands on the armrests, and asked in a leisurely tone,

"The Christmas Eve party is over. When is everyone planning to head back? I can help book your flights—it’s the least I can do as your host."

Proving his cunning, Chief Welta was the first to react, quickly jumping in.

He shot the others a look heavy with meaning, as if silently communicating a pre-arranged script, before smiling and saying,

"I plan on heading back today. I’ve been away for several days, and there’s a lot of tribal business waiting for me."

He tilted his chin up slightly as he spoke, putting on an expression of both reluctance and urgency, as if he really was in a rush.

"Yes, yes, I have to get back to my tribe today, too," the chief of the Point Hope Tribe chimed in, nodding his head like a chicken pecking at grain, though his eyes seemed to wander.

The chief from Kaktovik Town quickly added, "That’s right. I just got a call. A few new pods of whales have entered the bay, and my people need me back early."

"I have to make a trip to the capital, Juno. The environmental agency wants to discuss our relocation," Kivalina Chief Louise added, giving her phone a little shake for effect, as if to make her excuse seem more credible.

"Perfect, we can travel together. My plane passes through Juno."

Another chief promptly chimed in, and soon they were all echoing each other, one after another.

They all put on a great show of being in a hurry to leave the Crown Territory.

Hearing the chiefs all talk, one after another, about leaving, a buzzing started in Feng Shan’s head. He was completely thrown for a loop.

’What in the world is going on?’

’Just last night, Nata had pulled some strings to contact Damen Engineering Company about buying the four remaining CCa5712LS fishing trawlers.’

’And Feng Shan knew full well that these trawlers were absolute money pits.’

’Even though negotiations had gone smoothly and they’d knocked US$2 million off the price of each vessel...’

’...even so, the total for all four ships came to an astronomical US$80 million.’

’Thinking about his recent finances, Feng Shan couldn’t help but sigh. He’d been spending money like water.’

’To host this Christmas party, every single detail had to be meticulously planned, from decorating the venue to supplying the food and wine.’

’Then there were the guests who had traveled so far to attend; naturally, he couldn’t let them pay for their own travel expenses.’

’His employees had all worked so hard, so he couldn’t skimp on their year-end bonuses, either.’

’On top of all that were the expenses for next year’s container home project for the camp.’

’With all these miscellaneous expenses, one after another, a few million US dollars had vanished in the blink of an eye, like water poured on the ground.’

’He’d taken a moment last night to check his bank account, and his heart had sunk when he saw the balance on the screen: less than US$15 million remaining.’

’Compared to the enormous sum needed to purchase the four trawlers...’

’...it wasn’t even in the same ballpark.’

’Even following industry practice and just paying the 30% down payment to Damen Engineering Company, that would still require US$24 million for all four ships.’

’Such a massive funding gap.’

’After doing the math in his head, Feng Shan had decided to find Chief Welta today and squeeze some wool out of him.’

’His original plan had been to give a little ground on the matter of Crown Territory becoming a Holy Land, to offer the old chief a little sweetener.’