Shadow's Oath

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Chapter 52: The Village Trial (2)

‘The situation is getting complicated.’

When the second volcano erupted, Terdin had already anticipated that Ikarum would utter the name "Arke."

As soon as the villagers began to speak that name and Ikarum started walking toward Damion, Terdin had already instructed one of his knights, Boti.

“When I give the signal, prepare for battle.”

Boti, who was as obedient as lieutenant Aedun, quickly moved as expected.

“But while the royal knights will follow us, I’m not sure if the knights of Born will do the same.”

“They’ll act on their own if you move.”

Just as Ikarum challenged the prince to a duel and Terdin was about to issue his orders, Damion acted first.

With a gesture of his hand, the royal knights drew their swords in unison.

Startled, Boti followed suit, drawing his sword, and his subordinate knights did the same.

The knights of Born also unsheathed their weapons.

They, through Rusef, had pledged to follow the "prince," not Terdin.

“What is your intention, Chief Ikarum? Do you seek to prove your valor by challenging me to a duel?”

Damion asked calmly.

‘Well done, Prince. That calm smile alone is enough to show who’s in control here.’

Jedrick quickly stepped between them.

“I misspoke, Prince. Ikarum does not challenge you to a duel.”

“Then explain properly before there are more misunderstandings, Chief Jedrick.”

Jedrick turned to Ikarum, shouting,

“Step back, Ikarum! You’re making the situation worse!”

Ikarum retreated just a single step away from the knights.

Even with their swords pointed inches from his face, he didn’t step back any further.

His defiant expression remained unchanged.

Jedrick extended his hand, signaling Ikarum not to advance further, and explained to Damion.

“A royal duel does not mean the kings fight themselves. Isn’t it the same in your customs?”

Damion quickly understood.

“You mean a proxy duel.”

“Exactly. Each side sends forth their most exceptional knight.”

Ikarum spoke up.

Although Terdin wasn’t fluent in Geronian, he could understand the gist of Ikarum’s words.

“I will send my warrior. You send yours. We’ll accept the outcome, whatever it may be.”

Before Jedrick could translate, Damion replied, having grasped the meaning through the context.

“You’re suggesting we send our strongest warrior to fight yours, correct?”

Jedrick nodded.

“That’s right.”

Without waiting for Damion’s response, Ikarum shouted a name.

His voice was so loud it cracked, making the pronunciation unclear, but the villagers of Elum erupted into cheers, and a man stepped forward.

Terdin recognized him instantly, even though Ikarum hadn’t clearly pronounced his name.

‘Good grief, this feels like a battlefield that’s been set up in advance.’

It was Albo.

Albo was a warrior who had stood out even in chaotic battles.

His axe had cut through countless allied soldiers, and several skilled knights had fallen to him.

Albo pounded his chest and strode forward confidently.

The Geron people chanted his name.

Among the royal knights, Terdin saw one lean toward the prince, whispering something inaudible over the roaring cheers.

But the message was clear enough:

“Let me go, Your Highness. I’ll take his head.”

The Geron often liked to flaunt their fighting spirit, mocking Southerners as cowards.

Indeed, when comparing the morale of common soldiers, the Southern troops couldn’t match the “barbaric” fervor of the Geron.

Among them, the elite warriors called the Batu were unparalleled.

However, it was a different story for trained knights.

Sometimes, even a squire, taking up the sword of his fallen knight, would swiftly cut down a Geron warrior who had slain his master.

Terdin’s trained knights could easily defeat the Batu elites.

But to face a barbarian warrior who had slain dozens of allies?

The strongest among the terrifying Batu?

And to fight him in an officially sanctioned duel?

What knight could resist the fiery urge to step forward?

Once one knight volunteered, others clamored to be chosen, pleading with Damion to send them.

“Enough,”

Damion commanded, silencing his knights.

He then turned to Ikarum and spoke.

“I refuse, Ikarum.”

Jedrick carefully translated the prince’s words, and Ikarum roared in frustration.

“It is the decree of Akamantum!”

The prince swiftly responded, nearly skipping over Jedrick’s translation.

“Akamantum, whoever that is, is your god, not mine. I allowed the first duel, but I will not accept a second.”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

The prince’s tone was resolute.

Terdin felt relieved.

‘I thought the prince might act rashly in youthful pride, but he didn’t.’

Ikarum, however, wasn’t speaking to the prince anymore.

Instead, he addressed the knights directly, shouting,

“Is there no warrior among you who will fight for your master? Cowards of the South!”

Terdin was puzzled.

Ikarum was always an emotional man, but he seemed unusually agitated now.

‘Is it because Akamantum’s volcano erupted twice in a row? That would be enough to unsettle anyone.’

Jedrick, perhaps not wanting to escalate the heated situation further, refrained from translating.

But it was pointless.

The knights understood what was happening, not through words, but through the atmosphere.

Each knight glared at Ikarum with a furious expression, their desire to charge forward and draw their swords palpable.

Ikarum provocatively stared down each knight one by one.

Then, out of nowhere, he pointed not at the knights but behind Damion.

"Who are you?"

Damion turned to where Ikarum's hand gestured, and so did Terdin, even though the direction seemed random.

‘Good grief, how do you always end up at the center of things like this?’

There stood Ram, the prince's shadow, and Stuga of the prince.

"Why do you not step forward? If you are the prince's shadow, you should be the first to act in such matters!"

Ikarum stepped aside as if to clear a path for Ram.

A corridor opened between Stuga and Albo, with no one standing in the way.

Ikarum gestured provocatively and shouted again.

"You understood me yesterday, didn’t you? Then there’s no need for interpretation. Come forth, prince's shadow. Stand before my shadow and fight for your master."

The provocation did not work.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Ram looked at Damion with an expression entirely detached from the heated atmosphere of the square.

He was neither asking for help nor seeking permission.

He was waiting for orders.

"Silence, Ikarum!"

For the first time, Damion, who had maintained his composure, shouted.

The prince, who had never once lost his temper since arriving in the square, showed anger for the first time.

"No!"

Charlon shouted almost simultaneously.

Or perhaps she had spoken slightly earlier than Damion.

"So, is Ehodin trying to pit his warrior against the Stuga? Am I understanding this correctly? Jeje, did your brother say that? Prince, you mustn’t allow this! Stuga, you must not go! Stay exactly where you are!"

Terdin was startled by Charlon’s intense reaction.

‘Did she always have such a side to her?’

Charlon leaned forward as if she might enter the square herself.

The knights of Born barely managed to block her from stepping in.

"Leave this to me, Charlon,"

Damion said, gesturing and glancing at her to calm her down.

"No, right? It’s not true, is it?"

Charlon repeatedly nodded anxiously for confirmation.

‘Ram, the prince and the lady must really treasure you.’

Leaving the persistent Charlon in place, Damion turned back toward Ikarum.

"I won’t bother figuring out what you’re scheming, Ikarum."

Damion did not rush his words.

Though he had just been agitated, his deliberate speech once again reflected composure.

"Whatever your intentions may be, I will not allow it. Your conqueror is prepared to accept all your customs, but I will not condone such barbaric acts."

Before Jedrick could even start translating, Damion spun around and issued orders to his knights.

"Withdraw."

The knights reluctantly sheathed their swords and followed the prince.

"This won’t quell the dissatisfaction of the townsfolk."

Terdin couldn’t ignore the scowling expressions of the Geron people.

They had anticipated a fight.

But the royal duel was unilaterally canceled by Damion’s decision, leaving the fervent energy of the square with no outlet.

Terdin instructed Boti.

"We’ll move last. Secure the boundaries of the square thoroughly and continue guarding the prince’s rear as he departs."

"Yes, General."

Terdin noticed Ikarum whispering something to Albo.

His expression suggested his plans hadn’t gone as intended.

He tried not to jump to conclusions, but it was hard to avoid the thought.

‘Plans? Was he prepared for an Arke in advance? But how could he predict two volcanic eruptions?’

Terdin passed by Hag Olga, who remained seated, unable to move.

He deliberately walked close, thinking she might say something, but she remained silent.

It was as if she hadn’t even seen him.

Knight Boti, perhaps misunderstanding Terdin’s orders, began forcibly dispersing the townsfolk from the square.

That wasn’t what he had instructed, but now that it had begun, there was no stopping it.

Terdin sighed.

Refusing this duel seemed to have rendered all the goodwill from yesterday’s banquet meaningless.

‘Maybe we should have accepted the duel.’

Terdin thought this without realizing it.

Had Damion sought his advice earlier, he would have strongly advised against it.

Had he asked about Olga’s divination?

He would’ve suggested scoffing at it.

Should they respect these people’s superstitions?

He would’ve told him to decline, citing divine will.

Yet, after two volcanic eruptions, even Terdin felt shaken.

‘So, let me ask again, General. Should we accept the Arke?’

‘Of course, Prince! Accept the Arke. I’ll summon one of my finest knights to crush that Albo. Just the thought of cutting down that merciless fiend makes me feel better!’

Terdin imagined himself asking and answering his own questions.

‘If things were so simple, I’d have no reason to be on this battlefield.’

For the first time, Terdin began to worry that ruling the North might be too arduous a task for the young eighteen-year-old Prince Damion.

[Translator - Night]

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