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[Translator - Jjescus]
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Chapter 6: Terdin
At the nameless soldier's reply, Aedun, the lieutenant, did not respond.
It was a statement no one could easily react to.
But Terdin had no choice but to react.
Terdin hurriedly stepped out of the tent.
However, as soon as he stepped outside, he clasped his hands behind his back in a relaxed manner and spoke as though it was no big deal.
"An interesting tale."
Through the gaps between the torches, he saw the face of a young soldier.
His face was caked with mud, he wore no armor, and his long limbs and tall stature gave him an awkward appearance.
His face bore an expression of gloom, and his already subservient posture became even more so at the sight of Terdin, making him appear more obsequious than respectful.
At a glance, Terdin immediately dismissed any slim chance of something remarkable.
An uneducated, uncultured, impoverished young man, desperate in every aspect, could not have achieved anything extraordinary.
The head of an enemy commander?
Had he struck down a passing patrol of Geronian soldiers?
If so, a commendation and dismissal would suffice.
It would be fortunate if he hadn't secretly killed a local farmer and concocted a lie.
"And what did you say that was?"
Terdin gestured toward the sack in the young man's hands with a nod.
"It's the head of the enemy commander."
The young man gave the same answer.
"We have many enemy commanders. Which one is this?"
Terdin asked with interest.
But involuntarily, a note of fear crept into his voice.
‘Good heavens, I find myself hoping this young man is lying.’
Terdin dreaded hearing the name "Mantum" from this filthy young man’s mouth.
It must not come out.
At least, not here.
‘There are too many ears listening... and yet, seeing his appearance, I’ve foolishly underestimated him again.’
If an enemy had approached with a hidden blade, he could have instinctively countered; experience had taught him that much.
But Terdin had no experience with this kind of situation.
"To my knowledge, this head belongs to Adian Mantum."
The guards and lieutenant recoiled in shock—not because they believed it truly was Mantum’s head, but because of the audacity of such an outrageous lie.
Terdin felt dizzy but knew he had to maintain composure.
"Proof?"
The young soldier raised a large battle axe.
The guards immediately raised their spears in alarm.
The young man, moving more slowly than necessary, placed the axe on the ground.
The proof was irrefutable.
The axe alone was sufficient evidence.
"Stop this, even now!"
Neither the lieutenant nor the guards yet realized the axe’s significance.
They only assumed the young man was disarming himself.
"And here is the head."
The young man handed over a leather sack.
Dampness seeped through the bottom, dripping onto the ground.
Though the torchlight was bright, it was unclear whether the liquid was blood or dirty water.
"It's dark outside. Come inside; we’ll examine it properly."
Terdin signaled to Lieutenant Aedun.
“Stand by and keep your mouths shut. Every single one of you.”
The lieutenant belatedly nodded, his face tense.
He, too, finally grasped the gravity of the situation.
Something real was unfolding here.
Terdin reached toward the guards.
"Give me that axe."
A guard picked up the axe but, with a startled exclamation, dropped it.
He fumbled to set down his spear and used both hands to lift the weapon.
Terdin accepted the heavy battle axe with one hand, nearly losing his grip as he underestimated its weight.
Examining the engravings on the blade and handle, he was certain.
It was Mantum's axe.
"Follow me."
Terdin entered the tent.
The young soldier followed at a slow pace.
Other than urgent reports from scouts, ordinary soldiers never set foot inside the commander’s tent.
Though it bore the title of the supreme commander’s tent, it wasn’t particularly special.
It was slightly larger, mainly to accommodate a conference table.
The bed and its coverings were no different from those of other officers.
But symbolism mattered.
It was crucial to maintain the tent as a space no common soldier dared to enter.
The young man positioned himself in a corner upon entering, instinctively seeking a lower position without needing direction.
He was peculiar.
While conscripted serfs and ordinary soldiers often lacked understanding of such subtle etiquette, this young man seemed naturally attuned to it.
"Your name?"
"Ram, sir."
Terdin adjusted his grip on the axe several times before placing it on the table, which groaned under the weight.
By the light of the lamp, Terdin studied the young man more closely.
His appearance was unremarkable, his demeanor calm.
If he had indeed killed the enemy commander, he should have been far more self-assured.
Terdin lit another lamp and gestured toward the table.
"Take out what’s in the sack."
Ram unfolded the cloth and placed the head on the table.
His movements lacked any sense of pride, as though he were merely handling potatoes.
Such an attitude was unthinkable for a man his age.
Most men under thirty exaggerated their achievements, but this one displayed none of that.
Terdin looked at the head Ram had produced and let out a groan of anguish.
"It really is Adian."
Judging by the cut, the head had been severed no more than two hours ago.
While he couldn’t pinpoint the exact time, it was clear the death occurred earlier tonight.
The monster who had struck terror into Triton’s forces, the feral beast of the battlefield, the Bloodstorm Axe—a man with countless titles—was now unceremoniously rolling atop his table.
This left only two possibilities:
A clever forgery.
Or an uncanny resemblance.
‘Ah, one more. Magic.’
Terdin laughed and shook his head.
"No, this cannot be Adian. A month ago, he laughed boisterously as he dismissed my proposal for negotiation. That man could not possibly have his head severed so pitifully!"
As Terdin’s voice rose, his lieutenant’s concerned voice came from outside.
"Are you all right, General?"
Terdin shouted without realizing it.
"Didn’t I tell you to stand by?"
"My apologies!"
Aedun’s footsteps retreated from the tent entrance.
Terdin slumped into a chair beside the table holding Mantum’s head.
‘I’ve seen too much.’
Regret consumed him.
He should have discreetly brought the young man in from the start.
‘Although... the circumstances made that impossible.’
How could he have trusted the wild tale of a mud-covered stranger and agreed to meet alone?
"Did you act alone?"
Terdin asked.
Ram finally opened his mouth.
"No."
"Whose orders?"
"They came from Master Zenri Selken, sir."
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[Translator - Jjescus]
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"Then you’re a knight under Baron Selken’s command?"
"No, sir."
“Not under the baron of Selken?”
“I mean, I am not a knight.”
“Then what are you?”
“A slave.”
“What did you say?”
“A slave sent by Lord Selken to care for Young Master Zenri.”
Terdin momentarily didn’t understand.
“As far as I know, Ashua Selken only has one son.”
“That’s correct.”
“And instead of assigning a knight or even a squire to assist that son, he sends a slave?”
Ram looked flustered, as though searching for words, perhaps not even understanding the question.
Clearly, if this conversation were to progress properly, someone of higher rank or better education was needed.
“Where is Zenri?”
Ram closed his eyes tightly, as though bracing for the inevitable, then answered.
“He’s dead.”
“I see. You’ll need to explain what happened in detail. Start talking.”
Terdin spoke without emotion.
“...Where should I begin?”
“Was it your idea to kill Mantum?”
“No, sir. Young Master Zenri, with his brilliance, anticipated that this war would end if Mantum was killed.”
Terdin burst into laughter.
Ram flinched and stopped talking.
Terdin waved his hand apologetically.
“Go on.”
“So, the young master ordered me to kill Mantum. And so…”
Ram hesitated, seemingly unsure how to phrase his next words, then continued.
“...I killed him.”
Terdin felt irritated.
He wanted this matter resolved quickly.
“Explain in detail.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how much detail to provide or how to organize the story. I’m not good at telling stories.”
“Just speak as you remember it, without trying to organize it. If I don’t understand, I’ll ask. If it’s disorganized, I’ll piece it together. Speak freely, but without lies or exaggerations. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
Ram bowed once and continued, still maintaining a servile posture.
“At first, we tried to use the coastal battle a week ago.”
“‘Use’ it? How?”
“To kill Mantum.”
“You’re saying you attempted it during the battle a week ago?”
“Yes.”
“That battle involved Adian’s elite unit. Do you know why the fighting took place there?”
Terdin asked, testing how reliable this slave’s account might be.
If the man was simply dull, he might not even be able to convey what he knew properly.
Such a person’s testimony couldn’t be trusted.
But if he was just bad at conversation, the content itself might still be trustworthy.
“I heard it was to secure the coastline, allowing ships to dock easily for reinforcements and supplies. By using the sea, troops could be stationed north of the Targef River, starting the battle beyond the creek.”
Terdin nodded, gesturing for him to continue.
“If that position was lost, the enemy would fortify it, forcing our forces to retreat by a day’s march.”
Ram quickly added,
“This isn’t my own reasoning; it’s what the brilliant young master explained to me.”
“Could you drop the ‘brilliant’ part?”
“Apologies.”
Terdin scratched his chin.
“So, you tried to kill Mantum during that battle?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t approach him. My unit was stationed at the rear to defend against a flanking attack. When the rear was indeed attacked, I had to protect the young master amidst the chaos and couldn’t get close to Mantum. But I saw his face and planned to try again later. On the first day, I searched for a way to cross the creek. On the second, I scouted a route to avoid the wolves patrolling the area. On the third…”
“Wait, wolves?”
“Yes, to enter the enemy camp, I had to avoid the wolves with their keen sense of smell.”
“You violated military law by leaving the camp without permission.”
“I apologize. For me, the young master’s orders outweighed military law.”
Ram quickly added,
“I’m sorry. I’m bad at speaking. Please don’t hold Young Master Zenri responsible.”
The statement was absurd.
This man spoke eloquently yet pretended to stumble over his words.
He wasn’t acting like a typical soldier, who could barely manage even short responses to superiors or nobles.
Was he lying about being a slave, perhaps from a noble family?
‘High status doesn’t guarantee good speech. At least he doesn’t seem to be misunderstanding the situation.’
Terdin gestured for him to continue.
“After identifying which tent Mantum was in, I scouted an escape route. That was today, the fourth day.”
Ram avoided Terdin’s piercing gaze, bowing his head again as he spoke.
“But then, Young Master Zenri insisted on coming along. He said I must personally present Mantum’s head to General Terdin.”
“He wanted to claim your credit for himself?”
“No, sir. It’s only right for a slave’s accomplishments to go to their master.”
“Fair enough. What happened next?”
“I entered Mantum’s tent, beheaded him, and brought the axe as proof. But it seems the young master, hiding in the reeds, was discovered by the wolves. When I arrived, he was already dead—or so it appeared, according to their words.”
“You understand their language?”
“Just enough to catch the gist.”
Impressive.
“And then?”
“I wanted to confirm his death, but enemy patrols began closing in. I had no choice but to return alone.”
“So you brought Mantum’s head to me.”
“Yes.”
“You entered the enemy camp alone and took the head of their commander?”
“Yes.”
“You did all of this by yourself?”
“Ah, all instructions came from Young Master Zenri…”
“Was Zenri beside you when you killed Mantum?”
“No.”
“Did he hold Mantum down while you struck?”
“No.”
“Did he lure the wolves to distract them while you killed Mantum?”
“No.”
“Then this was your doing alone.”
Ram said nothing.
Terdin pressed his hand to his forehead.
“Alone…”
Unbelievable.
A war that had dragged on for over two years had just been ended by one young man—not a royal assassin, but a mere slave from a minor noble household!
For the first time, Terdin found himself agonizing over the fate of a single soldier.
‘What should I do with him?’
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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