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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 2: Ram
"Something I've always wondered—why does Father call you a slave that brings death?"
Zenri asked.
"It's because many people around me tend to die,"
Ram replied.
"How many? Who exactly?"
"I don’t know. They just say my misfortune brings death whenever someone near me dies."
"Sounds like a superstition, doesn’t it?"
"That’s what they say."
"Is it a curse or something?"
"That’s what they say too."
"You always talk like that, don’t you?"
"That’s something I’ve heard a lot."
"Are you mocking me right now?"
"No, young master."
Ram responded obediently, but Zenri felt his temper rising.
‘He is mocking me.’
Zenri stared at him.
Because Ram always lowered his head in Zenri's presence, all Zenri could usually see was the top of his head—a sight he was very familiar with.
‘Isn’t he just hiding an annoyed expression right now?’
Zenri shouted,
"Look up."
Ram immediately lifted his head.
In the darkness illuminated only by moonlight, Zenri couldn’t clearly see his face or make out his features.
He realized he didn’t remember what Ram’s face looked like—he had never really paid attention before.
Still, one thing was clear: it was an unpleasant face.
A slave’s face should have some visible flaw, something broken or lacking.
But Ram didn’t have any of that.
His teeth were straight and intact.
For a slave, that couldn’t be right—he must have stolen food somewhere.
Even though it was hard to see in the dark, his short, thick hair annoyed Zenri.
Unlike his father, Sir Selken, who he would eventually go bald like, Ram’s hair seemed destined to remain full.
Not that it mattered; his effeminate appearance would make him unpopular with women anyway.
His jawline was too slender, making him look weak.
A man’s jaw should be square, not triangular like his.
His eyebrows, too thin, made him look even less manly.
Compared to Zenri’s own well-balanced and perfect features, Ram’s face evoked not pity but ridicule.
How could someone live looking like that?
Then again, he was a slave—what else could be expected?
The only thing Ram had over Zenri was his height; he stood a full head taller.
This was why he always had to lower his head or kneel when next to Zenri.
Even now, Ram knelt on one knee, head raised obediently.
Zenri scrutinized the expressionless face, lips tightly pressed together, and tried to read the emotions Ram hid.
‘He’s insulting me. Laughing at me, surely.’
Slaves were always like that.
And they deserved punishment for it.
Zenri slapped Ram across the face.
Ram immediately bowed his head and said,
"I’m sorry."
Zenri wasn’t sure exactly what he was apologizing for, but the act of submission soothed him slightly.
"What an irritating fellow. Really, what was Father thinking, assigning a wretch like you to serve me on the battlefield?"
Zenri grumbled.
There wasn’t much time left.
"You’re so stupid it makes me anxious. I’ll explain it to you one more time."
Zenri felt pathetic having to explain something so obvious, but what could he do?
Slaves were dumb—it took time and effort to teach them.
"Our kingdom of Triton was invaded a hundred years ago—"
Wait.
Was it two hundred years ago?
Maybe.
What did it matter?
A slave wouldn’t know history anyway, so close enough.
"—by those barbarians. Back then, the great King Perrinto—"
Was it Perrinto? Or Perriant? Or Perrin?
"—fought valiantly and gave his life, but we lost two northern islands and this Crescent Meadow. Now, Triton’s greatest general, Terdin, is waging war to drive out the barbarians...the Geramites."
Or was it Gerons? Or Geram?
Whatever.
Ram wouldn’t know the difference.
Zenri cleared his throat and continued,
"You got all that?"
"Yes."
"Wrong answer."
Ram quickly corrected himself.
"I’m trying to understand."
"Good. That’s why you slaves end up as slaves. You don’t try, and you’re lazy. That’s why you always work under someone. Status is sacred, granted by the gods and maintained through effort. Got it?"
"Thank you for teaching me."
"Now, tell me: how long have we been on the battlefield?"
"About three months and fifteen days."
"That’s just under a hundred days, right?"
"…Pardon?"
"Ah! You can’t even do basic math, can you?"
"…I’m sorry. I haven’t learned how to calculate numbers yet."
"A month is thirty days. A half-month is fifteen days. Add thirty three times, then add fifteen. How much is that?"
"…I’m not sure. But it seems like it’s just under a hundred days."
"Good. How many battles have there been in that time?"
"Three small skirmishes and one major battle a week ago."
The last battle had been massive.
Both sides had deployed all their forces, including elite troops held in reserve.
Zenri, as a noble soldier, had been stationed at the rear, but even there, the enemy had broken through.
"How many of those filthy barbarians did I kill?"
Ram hesitated.
"Why aren’t you answering?"
"Well, um…"
His stammering and head-tilting irritated Zenri.
"When you kill an enemy, whose achievement is it?"
Finally, Zenri gave him a hint.
Ram understood and answered.
"It’s your achievement, young master."
"So, how many did I kill?"
"About fifteen."
"And what words of glory did I receive for that feat?"
"None."
"Exactly!"
Zenri exclaimed, growing more animated.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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"Killing a handful of soldiers won’t earn you glory. It won’t win the war! Even cutting down one or two enemy commanders won’t bring recognition, nor will winning one or two battles. This war won’t end until we’ve utterly crushed them! Meanwhile, I have so much to do back at the estate."
Zenri’s father had plenty to pass down to his only son: Laoorn, the fifth-largest estate in Triton; its vast wheat harvests; over a hundred private soldiers; and more than thirty slaves.
All of it was destined to be Zenri’s.
What he looked forward to most, however, was marriage.
Only then could he inherit it all.
Even if he couldn’t take everything right away, he would start with the eastern lands of Laoorn and inherit the rest when his father passed away.
He couldn’t wait for that day.
Rumors were already circulating that a stunning beauty from the neighboring domain had fallen for him.
He wanted to show her his bravery.
He wanted to get married quickly.
But, of course, he needed to meet the village maidens first.
‘When I return victorious from the war, wearing armor and riding my horse, I wonder how many of them will fall for me. Not all, but I’m sure I’ll find a way to lure a few into my bed before marriage.’
He was impatient.
“But there’s a way to end this war. Only I could think of it. The key is to kill the barbarian chieftain, Mantum!”
“Uh, young master, your voice is a bit…”
Ram nervously looked around.
He resembled a frightened dog, trembling like he might wet himself any second.
“You fools! None of you could think of such a simple solution! Well, that’s typical!”
“Young master!”
“What? Why are you glancing around like that?”
“The surroundings are too quiet. I’m worried our voices might carry.”
“You coward, can’t you see there’s no one around? What’s there to worry about?”
He declared confidently but then realized that they were in a desolate reed field in the middle of a moonless night.
This was the exact middle ground between the enemy and allied camps.
“Have you discussed this plan with anyone else?”
Ram cautiously asked.
“I have.”
“And what did they say?”
“They laughed at me.”
When he’d spoken to other noble sons, knights, and commanders, they treated him like a madman.
It couldn’t be helped.
As his father always said, ordinary people could never comprehend the words of extraordinary individuals.
Even now, the thought of their ridicule angered him so much that tears welled up.
Damn it, he was sixteen!
Crying at this age was unacceptable.
He pretended to look up at the moon to dry his tears.
“Adian Mantum is the grand chief who unified all the barbarian tribes. I hear the name ‘Mantum’ is also the name of the war god they worship. Killing someone who bears the name of a god will shatter their morale and strip them of the strength to continue fighting. The war might not end immediately, but they’d surrender soon after!”
Mantum was a figure of fear even among our soldiers.
He didn’t just command from the rear but led the charge himself, swinging his battle axe like a thunderbolt.
Knights clad in Triton’s armor fell like practice dummies under his strikes.
Soldiers who tried to spear him from below his horse were cut down like ripe grain.
Even the kingdom’s strongest knights, who challenged him one by one, were defeated.
With each loss, their army’s morale plummeted.
If Mantum fell, the barbarians would crumble!
“That’s why you need to bring back Mantum’s head.”
He lowered his voice dramatically, adding an air of suspense.
That was how you told a story.
It wasn’t just about words but also about tone and intensity.
Of course, the problem was that his audience—a lowly slave—wouldn’t appreciate such nuances.
“The plan is simple.”
He explained it in terms that even his limited brain could grasp.
“You go into the enemy camp and cut off Mantum’s head. You’re good at sneaky things like that, right? Even if Father tried to keep it a secret, I know about it.”
Ram nodded silently.
“Once you bring back his head, leave the rest to me. Simple, right? Even your dull brain can understand that, can’t it?”
Ram nodded again, his expression hard to read.
Was it confusion or dissatisfaction?
He decided to motivate him further.
“Of course, there will be a reward. You can marry any woman you fancy in the village. But not someone too pretty. Remember, you’ll only marry someone I approve of. Pick anyone from the ones I choose.”
“Thank you.”
Ram answered in a voice devoid of enthusiasm for the reward.
It wasn’t ideal, but what could he do?
Besides, slaves didn’t deserve much.
A meal a day should be enough for them to sacrifice their lives for their master.
“So when do we go?”
Tired from walking, he asked.
“We need to cross the stream here.”
Ram pointed to the pitch-black water that stretched before us.
This was a stream?
With a width of at least twenty strides, it should be called a river!
And though it was hard to tell in the darkness, it seemed quite deep too.
“We’re crossing here? Where’s the boat?”
“There isn’t one.”
“You didn’t prepare one?”
“Apologies. A boat would risk detection…”
He almost slapped Ram again but stopped himself.
Then he remembered.
The battle a week ago had been fought over this very stream.
To sum up what the commander had said, the war had dragged on because of this not-so-wide or deep stream.
If it weren’t for this stream, the battle would’ve been decided within half a year, whether by the enemy’s victory or theirs.
Yet, the war had gone on for over two years.
Their side wanted to cross the stream, set up camp on the far side, and fight on the northern plains.
To do so, they needed to secure the ferry port on the western bank.
The plan was to advance north swiftly using boats.
Of course, the enemy knew this and blocked them, leading to large-scale battles.
The boats they brought were set ablaze by the enemy’s fire arrows, and barbarian’s boats were sunk by their catapults.
The two bridges over the stream had long been destroyed.
“Wait! Haven’t you crossed into the enemy camp multiple times?”
“Yes, about three times.”
“How did you cross this stream?”
“I swam.”
So that was why he was always wet at night.
“But I can’t swim. How do you expect me to cross?”
“That’s why I suggest you wait here.”
“And then?”
“I’ll go and cut off Mantum’s head and return.”
“You’ll go alone?”
“Yes.”
“You’re saying you’ll do the job alone and come back alone?”
“Yes.”
He’d changed the plan!
Without even consulting him, his master!
He immediately saw through his intentions.
“You scoundrel, you plan to take all the credit for killing Mantum yourself!”
He raised his hand again, slapping him across the face.
The sharp sound echoed along the water’s edge.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Join our Discord for release updates!w
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