Shadow's Oath

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 85: Accomplice

‘It’s a simple matter. Nothing serious.’

As the trial began, Damion wanted to ask someone—anyone—how he looked.

He didn’t need the authority of a conqueror, but at the very least, he hoped he didn’t appear disheveled, like someone who had just woken up without washing his face.

‘I wish someone would reassure me that I look fine.’

Should he ask General Teredin?

But even if the general told him he looked fine, would he truly feel reassured?

Jedrick remained silent.

He must have been just as tense about the situation.

He wasn’t in a position to console anyone.

Ram said nothing.

As always, he remained quiet, like a shadow.

His steady presence behind Damion was comforting, but he wasn’t someone who would offer words of reassurance.

‘I am a conqueror. They should fear me—I have no reason to be afraid. My appearance doesn’t matter.’

Ikarum began reciting an oath to the gods, marking the official start of the trial.

Since Jedrick didn’t bother translating, it must not have been anything important.

‘Count Vadio made a mess of things, but I can fix it. Nothing will happen to this village. And nothing will happen to me. Olga’s crimes must be judged, but I won’t have her executed. I will assess the situation, order her to heal Charlon, and, once the treatment is complete, I’ll offer her a pardon as a compromise. General Teredin single-handedly brought down the alliance of ten tribes. I’m merely conducting a trial in an already conquered village. If I can’t even handle this, I have no right to govern the North!’

Damion studied Ikarum, the other Ehodin, and the elders.

Their faces were filled with anxiety.

‘They’re afraid of me. They must know I rank above Count Vadio. I need to use that fear to my advantage.’

Only Miela stood confidently, arms crossed, looking like a warrior waiting for battle.

‘It’s an act. There’s no way she’s comfortable in this situation.’

Jedrick was not looking at his brother but at the encampment below the village.

When his gaze met Damion’s, he quickly averted his eyes and turned his focus back to the trial.

It wasn’t difficult to guess what—or rather, who—he was concerned about.

‘Jedrick spent the entire night with Charlon…’

For a moment, Damion’s thoughts drifted.

He wasn’t paying attention to Ikarum, who had already begun the proceedings.

‘How much did they talk?’

[PR/N: Much more than you think ☠️]

Damion shook off the thought and refocused.

Jedrick’s concern was understandable.

Charlon needed to be healed, and the only person who could do it was Olga.

But now, Olga was on trial and faced the possibility of execution.

The four of them had shared their blood and souls.

If it had been Ram or Damion who was injured instead of Charlon, Jedrick would still be worried.

And if it had been Jedrick who was injured, Damion would be just as concerned.

That’s why, for now, the most important thing was to save Olga and bring her to Charlon.

That was the only thing that mattered.

‘How much do they know about each other now?’

That was the only thing that…

“Prince Damion?”

Jedrick was urging him.

“Huh?”

“It’s your turn.”

Damion snapped out of his thoughts and saw Ikarum waiting with a cold gaze.

“What am I supposed to say?”

Damion asked.

“You need to ask who is being put on trial and for what crime. You are the judge of this trial.”

Jedrick whispered the response.

Damion took a deep breath and spoke.

“Yesterday, we went to the temple of Raham, and warriors from the Tagda Tribe came to kill me and my fiancée. The one who led us to the temple was Olga. I am holding her accountable for this crime.”

Before Jedrick could finish translating, Ikarum shouted.

“Hag Olga has confessed. She acted alone. This was never the will of Elum Village.”

Damion nodded.

‘That’s the way it should be. First, confirm that this wasn’t the village’s collective decision. Then, establish that Olga acted alone. After that, if she pleads for forgiveness, I will give her a chance. That chance will be treating Charlon. If everything goes according to plan, no one will die. The fear that Count Vadio instilled by threatening to burn down the village might actually work in my favor.’

“I also believe this was not the will of the entire village. However, she could not have done this alone.”

Damion spoke as calmly and deliberately as possible, pausing between sentences to make it easier for Jedrick to translate.

“She was imprisoned. There was no way she could have contacted the Tagda Tribe alone. No matter how skilled she is in sorcery, she would have needed a means to communicate with someone outside. Whether she tied a letter to a crow’s leg, placed a message in a hunting dog’s mouth, or had someone from Elum deliver it directly to Tagda’s Halles—there must have been a method!”

As soon as Damion finished speaking, Ikarum nodded as if he had already anticipated this.

He gestured to someone nearby.

‘Ikarum seems to have reached the same conclusion. Alright, follow my lead, Ehodin. That way, no one has to die, and everything will end as I planned.’

Moments later, someone was dragged into the square.

He was a large man, but the two people hauling him in were even larger.

He was already bound, just like Olga, as if this had been prepared in advance.

His face was battered beyond recognition.

Even if he were someone Damion knew, he would have had a hard time recognizing him.

Still, his face seemed vaguely familiar.

“Who is he?”

Damion asked.

Ikarum responded.

“He is the only one who could have delivered Hag Olga’s letter to the Tagda Tribe.”

Jedrick translated.

‘They found an accomplice this quickly? Or are they just offering up a scapegoat? It’s a common trick…’

Damion was immediately suspicious.

“What is his name?”

“Dulam.”

The name wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but Damion couldn’t recall who he was.

“Are you saying he’s the accomplice?”@@novelbin@@

“He was one of three men responsible for guarding Olga’s house. He was in charge of the night watch.”

The memory clicked.

Two days ago, when he had visited Olga’s house, one of the guards had argued with Jedrick about whether or not he had the authority to enter.

“You. Did you deliver Olga’s letter to the Tagda Tribe?”

Damion asked.

As Jedrick translated, Dulam looked back and forth between Ikarum, Jedrick, and Damion, his expression bewildered.

He seemed just as simple-minded now as he had upon their first meeting.

He didn’t look like someone capable of orchestrating a complex plot.

Dulam stammered.

“D-delivering letters is… w-what I normally do.”

Jedrick translated, then explained.

“It’s true. Each village has designated messengers for exchanging letters with other tribes. While there are independent couriers who specialize in delivering messages, most villages prefer to use their own people to avoid outsiders coming and going freely.”

“Did you deliver Olga’s letter to the Tagda Tribe?”

Damion asked.

Dulam hesitated again, looking up at Ikarum.

Ikarum roared.

“Did you meet Halles?”

Dulam flinched and answered.

“Yes.”

“Did you deliver Olga’s letter?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you report it to me?”

Ikarum had taken control of the interrogation.

Damion wanted to intervene but held back.

It was more effective for a chieftain to conduct the questioning.

Besides, he didn’t want to risk exposing any inexperience in this type of trial.

Instead, he maintained a posture that suggested he was simply focused on listening to Jedrick’s translation.

“I… I thought it was just an ordinary letter.”

Dulam stammered, trembling.

“An ordinary letter? Did you not know that our alliance with the Tagda Tribe had ended?”

Ikarum shouted.

“It… it was an alliance.”

“What?”

“I mean, when I delivered the letter… it was… um… it was about a month ago. No, I’m not sure… Maybe twenty days ago? Yes, about twenty days. That was the last time. Just once. Yes, just once. And… back then…”

The faster Dulam spoke, the more he stuttered.

Ikarum raised his hand as if to strike him again.

“B-back then, the Tagda Tribe was still near us. I didn’t have to travel far to deliver it.”

“You didn’t go far…?”

“Yes, b-because the Tagda Tribe… w-we were still allies at the time.”

Ikarum turned to Damion with a look of confusion, and Damion felt the same.

‘Did they plan this twenty days ago?’

Damion asked.

“Did you read the letter?”

“A courier must not open letters.”

Dulam stammered.

“And I can’t read.”

Damion had no response.

Jedrick spoke.

“The exact date is uncertain, but from the circumstances, it seems the letter was delivered before the ten tribes had even dispersed.”

"Wasn't it before I even arrived here?"

"It must have been about ten days to a week before you came."

'So they had already planned this back then?'

Damion kept his thoughts to himself, making sure not to show his surprise.

Ikarum pushed Dulam, who was kneeling and bound with ropes.

Dulam fell to the ground.

"What did you receive in return for delivering the letter from Olga?"

Dulam remained silent, lying face down.

"Speak! Before I search your house and tear through your mother’s and sister’s belongings!"

"M-Medicine."

"What kind of medicine?"

Dulam hesitated, unable to speak properly. After some internal struggle, he finally answered.

"A… a medicine to make one stronger."

"Stronger, you say?"

"When I… when I'm with a woman… it… it doesn't stand well… But this… it helps it stand…."

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Hearing that, Damion raised a hand.

"Stop."

Jedrick raised his voice to stop Ikarum as well.

Ikarum, who was about to kick Dulam again, paused.

Damion spoke.

"Olga, rise."

There was no need to speak in Geronese with Olga, and stopping Ikarum was a deliberate choice to avoid relying on him for handling the situation.

'It's almost over. This is turning out to be easier than I expected.'

Olga struggled to sit up.

Since she was still bound, even lifting her upper body was difficult.

Blood from her nose trickled down to stain her lips.

"Olga, is it true that you delivered a letter through Dulam?"

Damion asked.

Olga, still sitting on the ground, responded.

"It is true."

"What was written in the letter?"

Olga replied calmly.

"It said that a Conqueror would be sent to the Iktaron Temple in a few days, and that when red smoke rose, it was the signal to attack."

Ikarum glanced toward Jedrick, but Jedrick did not translate into Geronese.

Was it deliberate?

Or was he focusing on Olga’s words?

"But I hadn’t even arrived on this land yet at that time. How did you know?"

Damion asked.

Olga smirked.

The blood-stained teeth she revealed were eerie.

"Even after witnessing my fortune-telling yesterday, you still ask that?"

At that moment, Miela abruptly stood up.

"All guilt is evident. Because of this person's letter delivery, this event occurred. According to our laws, the accomplice must also be executed."

Due to the sudden intervention of his mother, Jedrick was slow in translating for Damion.

Then he added,

"Mother can understand the southern language to some extent."

At Miela’s words, Dulam let out a scream and prostrated himself.

"Please forgive me! I swear to God, I did not know what the letter contained. I still don’t know. I will never know!"

"Sending out a prisoner’s letter alone is already a crime! It doesn’t matter if you didn’t know the contents!"

Miela’s voice rose in agitation.

Ikarum, in contrast, remained composed.

"Dulam, you received payment for delivering a letter you should not have taken. You broke our laws, and because of that mistake, our entire village is at risk of burning."

Before Jedrick could start translating, Ikarum continued speaking loudly.

"I propose a vote for this man’s execution!"

'He's rushing the process to prevent me from interfering. I can’t let that happen.'

Damion raised his hand and shouted.

"Stop!"

However, the villagers erupted into loud cheers, drowning out his voice.

"Stop for a moment!"

The cheers continued.

His voice was still lost in the noise.

But even in this chaos, Ikarum’s voice rang loud and clear.

"Because of this man’s letter, the Conqueror almost died at the hands of the traitor Halles!"

The villagers jeered again.

"We must show proof that our village was not involved in this! Those in favor of execution, raise your hands!"

The villagers raised their hands unanimously.

At a glance, there was not a single dissenter.

Even children under ten raised their hands.

Ikarum then turned to Damion and said,

"By the vote, this man shall be executed!"

The moment Jedrick finished translating, Damion urgently spoke.

"I haven’t voted."

Ikarum glared at Jedrick as if he had spoken those words himself and replied.

"The Conqueror can oversee this trial and deliver a verdict, but he has no right to vote. Only villagers may vote."

"I don’t need a vote. The authority to render the final verdict is mine."

Damion wanted to raise his voice like Ikarum.

But compared to Ikarum’s thunderous tone, his own voice was feeble, like that of a child.

Even to himself, it sounded weak and lacking conviction.

'I must make my voice heard. They need to fear me.'

Yet, he simply couldn’t raise his voice against Ikarum.

'They should fear me, but they don’t…'

Damion knew why.

'They don’t fear me. They fear Vadio.'

Jedrick, instead of translating, carefully explained.

"Damion, you have the power to stop this trial. Right now, you can overturn everything, disband the crowd by force, and exile Ikarum. You don't need to make a ruling—you can simply take full control. But…"

Jedrick did not finish his sentence.

'But if I do that, they will never follow me. I will be no different from Vadio.'

Ikarum, with a colder expression than ever, spoke.

"You threatened to set fire to our village unless we proved our innocence. We will prove it in our own way."

Damion couldn’t think of a rebuttal.

No, he could, but the words wouldn’t come out.

'Prove your innocence through evidence and actions. You are cowardly trying to save yourselves by sacrificing someone else.'

Would they listen if he said that?

'Stop this trial. I will believe in your innocence from now on.'

He just wanted to overturn the trial like a fickle child and walk away from the square.

Then a thought struck him, and he asked,

"Jedrick, you didn’t vote, did you?"

Jedrick shook his head.

"The High Chief and the Chieftains have no voting rights. A chieftain is someone who gathers opinions, not someone who gives one. The same applies to the High Chief."

Damion turned to Terdin.

"Can’t we stop this, General?"

Terdin surveyed the surroundings before responding firmly.

"If you wish to stop it, then act like Vadio. Order the soldiers to break up the crowd by force, abolish the trial, and declare that you will decide everything. Then, take Olga and force her to heal Charlon."

"But…"

It was Damion who had allowed this trial to happen.

Yesterday and today.

If he suddenly stopped it just because he didn’t like the result, he would be no different from Vadio, a tyrant.

He should have forbidden it from the start.

'Yesterday, I should have said no.'

He should have refused to respect their rules and erased their customs.

He should have forced them to follow Triton’s laws alone.

He should have brought Triton’s religion and made them kneel before the Sun Cross.

'I allowed it yesterday. I can’t deny it today.'

He was following the process he had agreed to—as a Conqueror.

They had chosen this trial to prove their innocence, and they were desperate.

Just moments ago, he had seen two ten-year-old children nearly thrown into a pyre.

Most villagers were mothers and fathers.

The moment they thought their child might be next, rational judgment was impossible.

If they could save their child by sacrificing this foolish man, why wouldn’t they vote in favor?

'And I think I can rule these people?'

Damion lost confidence.

'I am no Conqueror.'

Memories of when he visited Aikob and discussed this war resurfaced.

The moment he had declared he would be the ruler of the North came to mind.

'I am not worthy.'

Dulam knelt.

Beside him stood Albo, the Geronese warrior who had fought in the King’s Duel yesterday.

Perhaps the strongest among the Geronese, preparing for execution.

Ikarum requested a sword from Damion.

Damion hesitated, unable to answer immediately.

Ikarum barked at him, this time in Triton’s language.

"Sword!"

Damion, lips trembling, muttered.

"Give it to him."

A knight threw Ikarum a confiscated Geronese sword.

'They had it prepared in advance…?'

'They planned this all along?'

It felt like he was the only one unprepared for this moment.

Ikarum turned to Dulam.

"Any last words?"

Dulam wept.

"Please take care of my mother."

"I will."

At Ikarum’s signal, Albora struck without hesitation.

His sword cleaved cleanly through Dulam’s neck, sending his head rolling onto the ground.

Blood sprayed onto the villagers, causing brief panic.

Dulam’s headless body collapsed.

Damion forced himself not to look away.

Ikarum, unfazed, announced,

"Next is the trial of Hag Olga. Prepare the firewood."

Hearing Jedrick’s translation, Damion asked,

"Firewood? Why firewood?"

Jedrick, voice strained, answered,

"When a Hak or Hag is executed, they are burned instead of beheaded… for fear of their curse."

Damion realized, yet again, how naïve he had been.

'This trial was always going to end this way.'

The villagers roared in a mix of rage and excitement.

Even without translation, Damion understood what they were demanding.

"Burn the witch!"

"Burn the witch!"

"Burn the witch!"

Would calling them savages who didn’t even know how to conduct a fair trial be enough to stop this?

He had seen the same frenzy, the same cheers before.

Even his father could not stop it.

"Burn the witch!"

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]