Shadow's Oath

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Chapter 109: The Verdict

‘I should have said this yesterday. At the very least, I should have said it before this trial began.’

Damion regretted it.

‘This isn’t how I wanted things to turn out.’

A flood of choices came to his mind—different ways he could have acted yesterday in that moment.

And yet, it felt as though he had chosen the worst possible option.

He was still angry at Jedrick, ashamed in front of Charlon, and betrayed by Ram, but that didn’t mean he wanted to throw Jedrick into the fire.

While he had been momentarily lost in thought, everything had moved too quickly.

During last night’s meeting, Rusef had been determined to kill Jedrick before dawn.

Count Vadio had been pondering the most brutal way to execute him.

Given his position, Terdin was in no place to stop them.

Damion, unsure of how to settle his own emotions, had delayed the execution.

Instead, he had opted for a village trial.

He had hoped to find another way to resolve the situation, but his heart wouldn't allow it.

There was a voice inside him, whispering over and over again to kill Jedrick.

And up until the very moment the trial began, Damion had been inclined to listen.

But then, when the spruce stake to which Jedrick was to be tied and burned suddenly toppled over with a loud crash due to a worker’s mistake, Damion snapped back to his senses.

Somewhere, he thought he could hear Charlon crying.

A voice of self-reproach, blaming herself for everything.

It had to be a hallucination—there was no way he could truly hear it—but it made him realize something.

If he went through with this, if he had Jedrick executed, he would never be able to mend things with Charlon.

Sure, he could force the marriage.

His father wasn’t the type to abandon the many benefits tied to this union, and the Duke of Vormont certainly wouldn’t back down either.

The arranged marriage would proceed as planned.

But then, Damion wouldn’t just be marrying a woman who loved another man—he would be the husband who killed that man.

Damion didn’t want to kill Jedrick.

He had delayed the execution while searching for another way to punish him.

And yet, his hesitation had caused him to miss his chance.

‘Jedrick is my friend. Maybe my only true friend. Who in the royal court has ever treated me this way? Who else has ever despised me so honestly, liked me so sincerely, criticized me so openly, cared for me so deeply, or protected me so fiercely?’

His life hadn’t even spanned twenty years yet, but he knew this much for certain: Jedrick was the one friend who would remain with him for a lifetime.

‘I have to stop this trial. I have to overturn the verdict. No matter what it takes! No matter how underhanded I have to be! I am a conqueror, after all.’

It took a long time for Damion’s words to reach Ikarum.

And even then, there was no way to know if they had been conveyed correctly.

Ikarum’s expression made it clear that he didn’t accept the message, even as he listened to the translation from the man beside him.

Then he spoke.

Bedian, after repeatedly questioning Ikarum to confirm his meaning, sighed and explained in an uncertain tone.

"He’s saying… if we entrusted the trial to them, then we must respect their way of doing things. It also sounds like he’s implying that we shouldn’t have handed it over to them in the first place."

"He’s not wrong. That’s exactly what I’m thinking right now."

"Count Vadio. Perhaps…"

Damion wanted to order the Count to halt the trial.

It would be a forceful intervention!

He could insist that he was just a young, fickle prince throwing a tantrum.

Southern soldiers could surround the square and drive everyone out, arresting Ikarum on any arbitrary charge.

And then…

‘And then what? Am I supposed to let Jedrick live in this village? Or should I take him with me?’

Rusef had only agreed to relinquish his claim over Charlon because Damion had accepted the village trial and Jedrick’s public execution.

If Damion now forcibly saved Jedrick, who knew what Rusef would do?

Above all, Vadio would never comply.

He had never intended to entrust Jedrick to the village trial—he had wanted to behead him personally and display his head on a pike.

He was the kind of man who, if given the opportunity, would burn down half the village.

There was no way Damion could ask him to forcibly dissolve the proceedings.

As Damion hesitated, Vadio misinterpreted his silence and spoke.

"Yes, Your Highness. Just say the word. I was growing bored of this trial and its slow execution process myself. Perhaps we should change the method? It was a mistake to choose burning. Look at them stacking the firewood so sluggishly… By the time they finally light it, an hour will have passed! If Triton’s soldiers were handling this, they’d be done in minutes."

Vadio clicked his tongue in irritation at the slow-moving Geronians.

"Wait, was it you who decided on burning, Count? Not Ikarum?"

Damion asked.

"Yes. Early this morning, I told him that a simple beheading wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Your Highness’s fury. That’s when the chieftain himself suggested burning. I merely agreed, and he accepted without protest."

Vadio spoke in a tone that almost seemed to ask for praise, though there was a hint of worry in his voice as well.

"If this takes any longer, His Majesty will no doubt reprimand us. We’re already past the deadline."

Damion was angry at the Count.

The sheer absurdity of it all frustrated him.

But at the same time, he saw an opportunity in Vadio’s words.

Vadio had proposed burning, and Ikarum had simply agreed—meaning that, technically, they had violated their own legal customs!

"This is not your way of holding a trial!"

Damion shouted at Ikarum and the villagers.

He didn’t care whether they understood him—he needed to make himself heard.

"If he really did force himself on a woman, is the punishment death? And by burning, no less? Yesterday, I was told that burning was reserved for Hags and Haks who committed grave crimes. Am I wrong?"

He hurriedly turned to Bedian.

"Don’t translate that to Ikarum. Say it to that elder—Sao."

Bedian hesitated, unsure of Damion’s intent, but eventually approached Sao and relayed the message.

As Sao slowly processed the words, his face turned troubled, and he turned to ask Ikarum for his stance.

Damion couldn’t see Ikarum’s expression, but he could guess—it was probably a scowl.

He was likely resorting to threats.

But Sao, being the honest man he was, answered truthfully.

After carefully listening, Bedian tilted his head in confusion and conveyed the response.

"The original punishment… Well, the term they use is ‘Bestu.’"

Damion asked,

"Bestu?"

"It translates to ‘sending away’ in Southern dialect, though I can’t think of a perfect equivalent…"

As Bedian struggled to find the right word, Vadio shrugged and muttered,

"Exile?"

Vadio regretted his words as soon as he spoke.

He shouldn't have said anything!

Damion immediately shouted.

"Then banish him!"

He then quickly turned to Bedian and asked,

"What was the punishment 'banishment' called in Geron language again?"

"Bestu... It was bestu."

Damion shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Bestu!"

The villagers of Elum began to murmur.

Even the men stacking firewood stopped in their tracks.

Then, Ikarum shouted.

He, too, seemed tired of interpreting and spoke briefly in Southern language.

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"Vote is over."

Damion responded just as briefly.

"Too few voted."

As soon as Bedian finished translating, Damion continued shouting.

"Miela!"

He quickly scanned the crowd in search of her.

"Where is she? Cast your vote against your son's punishment!"

She was nowhere to be seen.

Vadio spoke irritably.

"Your Highness, if you continue, you will be breaking your own word about respecting village customs. Let them execute him. If not, let me handle it myself."

Terdin had decided neither to help nor to interfere.

He stood with his arms crossed, saying nothing.

He had even stepped back and taken a seat, as if to distance himself from the matter.

His indifference made him seem just as detestable as Vadio.

There was no one to help.

He was alone.

‘This is my mess. I have to fix it.

But there was no way.

Ikarum showed no sign of backing down.

Was he afraid of being caught in the Count's grasp?

Or did he simply want to use this opportunity to get rid of his brother?

"Hear me. I..."

Damion couldn't finish his sentence.

What could he say that Ikarum would listen to?

How could he get through to someone who had no intention of listening?

Even Bedian would struggle to interpret properly.

First came helplessness, then despair.

The gazes of the Geron people made him shrink, and Ikarum's stare filled him with fear.

He wanted to give an order to the Southern soldiers to forcibly rescue Jedrick, to disperse the villagers and declare everything void.

But even that required Vadio’s approval.

And would Terdin even allow it?

Damion could do nothing.

He had to watch his friend die.

By a trial he had allowed.

Then, the volcano erupted.

Boom!

The ground trembled, and a deafening sound shook the sky.

He couldn't even recall whether the sound came first or the tremor.

Even Count Vadio recoiled, crouching and shielding his head with his shield.

Damion didn't think it was ridiculous—it really sounded like something was crashing down from the sky.

The entire village turned toward the volcano.

Ikarum’s eyes widened as he, too, stared somewhere in the northeast.

Damion followed his gaze.

He thought he could see a red pillar of fire in the gray-black sky.

‘Do not try to win—use it…’

Damion suddenly recalled Olga’s last words.

‘What am I not supposed to win? And what am I supposed to use?’

Olga had called those words a gift.

But they didn't seem like a gift at all.

Why had she said that?

When asked for a final statement, why had she given advice instead?

Before that, she had spoken like a curse, foretelling three deaths.

So why had she ended with those words?

‘She didn’t say it just once. She said it before. When I first met Olga, holding an untouched teacup, she told me the same thing. ‘Don’t try to win—use it.’ She had already told me everything she wanted to say back then.’

A sudden thought struck him, and he spoke.

"Arke..."

To overcome the villagers' murmurs and the lingering echoes of the volcanic explosion, he shouted again.

"Arke!"

Ikarum’s eyes widened.

The villagers, who had been staring at the volcano, now turned their attention to Damion.

Their murmurs grew louder.

Damion raised his voice even more—he had never spoken this loudly before.

"I propose a King's Duel! I oppose this trial's verdict! Your god, Akamantum, questions this judgment! Any who disagree with me must prove Akamantum's will in combat!"

Bedian translated with urgency, but the moment the word Arke was spoken, no translation was needed.

Damion locked eyes with Ikarum and called out.

"Accept the Arke, Ikarum!"

Since the moment Arke was mentioned, Ikarum hadn’t blinked once.

He glared at Damion.

He did not refuse.

In fact, he welcomed it.

And he wasn’t the only one who did.

So did Albo.

Ikarum shouted.

"Albo!"

He was speaking to Albo, but it was also a declaration to the villagers.

And an acceptance of Damion’s challenge.

By now, after struggling to understand Geron speech through weak interpretations, Damion almost felt as if he could comprehend Ikarum’s words without translation.

"Step forward and prove Akamantum’s will."

Damion stepped toward Vadio.

The Count was listening to his attendants’ explanations.

"Hand over the prisoner you have detained,"

Damion demanded.

"Which prisoner?"

"The one imprisoned for murder yesterday."

"You mean that slave? No, he murdered his master—"

"My life, my honor, and my pride are on the line. I must choose the warrior I trust the most."

Damion, who had always avoided Vadio’s gaze out of fear and unease, now looked him straight in the eye and commanded:

"Bring my shadow before me at once, Count Vadio!"

[Translator - Night]

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