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[Translator - Jjescus]
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Chapter 15: Mantum's Axe
The cavalry captain returned with the patrol, dismounting before his horse had fully stopped.
He staggered slightly before coming to a halt in front of General Terdin to report.
“The army led by His Majesty is setting up camp.”
Terdin lowered the foot he had been resting on the stirrup.
“Where?”
“Five miles away.”
“They’re not coming now?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you ask directly?”
“I spoke with the captain of the royal guard, Claive. He said they will rest tonight and depart again tomorrow morning.”
Aedun, the lieutenant, approached with his horse in tow and muttered to Terdin.
“They could easily arrive by tonight. Is it because the king avoids traveling at night? Or could there be some hidden reason…?”
The Count of Badio, standing behind them, confidently interjected.
“It must mean they want us to prepare an exceptional welcome!”
Terdin didn’t deliberate long and replied,
“Reasonable enough. In that case, Count, you should personally organize an advance party. If you’re waiting ahead to greet His Majesty, it’ll put him at ease.”
Badio replied as though he had been waiting for this suggestion.
“I’ll take only my knights.”
“Do as you see fit.”
Terdin then turned to Aedun.
“No need to overthink, Aedun. Just consider this extra time to prepare. Make sure any soldiers who can wash by tomorrow do so, and arrange a lineup to welcome the royal procession.”
“Yes, General.”
Once the lieutenant, the count, and the other commanders dispersed, Terdin quickly turned, handing his reins to Ram.
As Ram took hold of them, Terdin whispered,
“You seem to have something to say. You’ve been restless since the meeting earlier.”
“Yes.”
“Is this something we need to discuss privately?”
“Yes, sir.”
Terdin led Ram to a secluded spot away from prying ears.
Even when they were alone, Terdin spoke very softly.
“What is it?”
Ram recounted his entire conversation with Jedrick from earlier that day.
He braced himself for the scolding that would inevitably follow—for not reporting sooner.
But instead of anger, Terdin seemed invigorated, as though something exciting had come up.
“We’ll need to negotiate again. It must be dealt with before His Majesty arrives. Follow me.”
Moments ago, Terdin had seemed reluctant and sluggish about preparing for the king’s arrival.
Now, his movements were swift and purposeful.
The first place Terdin went was his tent.
He entered alone and came back out carrying a large chunk of iron.
It was wrapped neatly in a leather pouch, but Ram recognized it immediately—it was Mantum’s axe.
Next, Terdin headed to Jedrick’s tent.
Jedrick was sitting with his eyes closed, but he didn’t seem surprised to see Terdin, as if he had been expecting him.
Even when the general slammed the axe down with the force of an executioner, Jedrick remained calm, wearing only an expression of resignation.
“I intend to present this axe to His Majesty Gallant tomorrow as a trophy of victory.”
Jedrick replied calmly,
“The victor claims all. It is a bitter loss for me, but if that’s your choice, I cannot refuse.”
Jedrick’s composure was unshaken until Terdin’s next words.
“However, I could return it to you.”
Jedrick and Terdin locked eyes, scrutinizing each other as though trying to read the other’s thoughts.
“The terms?”
Jedrick asked, and Terdin responded before the question was fully formed.
“I hear one of the prisoners you’ve captured came here to kill Mantum. A noble, no less.”
Jedrick glanced at Ram before replying.
“That’s true.”
“Is he alive?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“He was alive before I came here. But now, who knows? A wolf bite isn’t exactly a small injury.”
“Let’s trade.”
“A deal?”
Jedrick asked in disbelief.
Terdin nodded, and Jedrick confirmed,
“Why trade? You could easily string me up and have your men march in to retrieve the prisoner. Is he really so important that you’d give up Mantum’s axe for him?”
“If I present this axe to the king, he’ll keep it as a trophy, locked away in some storeroom, never to be looked at again. But to your people, it’s a family heirloom. That noble boy might mean little to you, just another bargaining chip for some compensation. But to us, he’s invaluable. He’s worth the trade.”
“Invaluable?”
Ram couldn’t understand the general’s reasoning.
Until recently, even Terdin barely knew the boy’s name.
“When?”
Jedrick asked.
“Now.”
“Tonight?”
“Just say yes or no.”
From Jedrick’s perspective, Ram thought, there was no reason to refuse this deal.
But still, Jedrick took his time, clearly calculating whether there was a trap.
“Deal.”
The moment Jedrick agreed, Terdin shouted to a soldier outside,
“Bring pen, ink, and parchment!”
“Yes, General!”
While they waited for the supplies, Jedrick remarked,
“A deal conducted in the dead of night is something we regard as dishonorable. I’ll write the letter, but my people won’t comply.”
“Fair enough. How would you ensure they do?”
“We need daylight. Set the exchange for dawn tomorrow.”
Terdin seemed to consider something before countering,
“What about just before dawn? The sun will rise during the exchange.”
“...Agreed. And to ensure there’s no trickery, I’ll come along.”
“Location?”
“The same as before.”
“Fine. But…”
As if he had just remembered, Terdin added, though it was clear he had wanted to ask this from the beginning,
“What about that curse you mentioned? None of my men have died a gruesome death because of it.”
Jedrick stared directly at Ram and replied,
“Do you think a curse ends with one person dying simply?”
“So, it’s complicated, even to kill one person?”
Terdin quipped mockingly before leaving the tent.
Ram followed, unable to bring himself to look back at Jedrick.
“The exchange is at dawn, so get some rest.”
Terdin said, heading off somewhere in the camp.
As the allied patrols hurried to deliver letters to the Geron camp and return with replies, Ram did as Terdin ordered and went to sleep.
The camp was restless, soldiers bustling about their tasks in preparation for the coming day.
A few bumped into Ram as he made his way to his quarters, offering quick apologies as they passed.
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[Translator - Jjescus]
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Surprisingly, the soldiers seemed to have kept quiet about Ram’s actions; most didn’t know he was the one who killed Mantum, let alone that he was just a regular soldier.
Even the commanders were unaware, and there were no rumors circulating.
The hood and helmet he wore appeared to be effective—soldiers who had been in the same unit as him didn’t recognize him at all.
Besides, most of them were low-ranking troops who had never been near General Terdin.
The idea that the “soldier with the hood and helmet” standing beside the general was once a slave soldier carrying a spear beside them was unimaginable.
Ram’s tent was located on the outskirts of the camp, a personal tent assigned to him after becoming a shadow.
Though small, it had a bed.
Every time Ram entered, he felt uneasy.
Since arriving at the battlefield, he had rarely slept in a tent, let alone a personal one.
Tents were only given to soldiers of a certain rank or higher.
Those below that rank were given just a blanket, whether they slept on grass or stone.
The comfort of the bed was almost unsettling to him.
That night, Ram lay awake in the too-comfortable bed.
His mind was consumed with the curse Jedrick had mentioned, preventing him from sleeping.
‘That wizard has placed a spell on you.’
No matter how hard Ram tried to forget, he couldn’t stop thinking about the witch’s magic.
Ram didn’t even know her name.
To the villagers, she was called the "kind witch."
Among traders, she was simply an herbalist.
Her medicines were notoriously bitter, so children called her the "bitter medicine granny."
‘Kill that woman. Leave no trace of a murder. Burn the body.’
That was the order given by Baron Selken.
The crime?
Allegedly spreading rumors about Selken's death.
Whether it was true or not, Ram didn’t know.
When given an order to kill, Ram carried it out.
Even if the target was a wizard, the rules didn’t change.
There were rumors that she could turn people into frogs if she didn’t like them, but Ram wasn’t afraid.
Killing was simply a matter of striking first before the other’s weapon—or magic—could reach you.
But for the first time, as Ram went to kill the "kind witch," he questioned the act of killing.
‘Is it really the duty of a slave to kill anyone their master commands, even without knowing if the person is guilty? Even if they are guilty, do I have the right to kill them?’
As a lord, Selken had the authority to execute his subjects.
Or did he? Probably.
Lords created the laws of their lands and could enforce them.
"Then why resort to assassination instead of holding a trial?"
Ram followed the order anyway, heading to kill the "kind witch."
As usual, he began by sneaking into her house.
But her home had no defenses against intruders.
He could have stomped his way through the front door and reached her bedroom without being noticed.
It took Ram no more than six breaths to press a blade to the witch’s neck.
Despite the blade at her throat, the witch remained calm, as if she had expected this.
Normally, Ram would have killed her before she could speak, but this time, he hesitated.
Should he really kill her?
A question he had never asked before surfaced in his mind.
Had the witch’s magic already taken hold of him?
If so, it must have happened months ago because Ram already knew her.
He had bought herbs from her shop several times, and she had even given him bread to eat when she saw his emaciated frame.
It wasn’t because he knew her that he hesitated—Ram had killed people he was familiar with before.
If his master commanded it, he obeyed.
But this time, he couldn’t.
It was the bread she had given him and the greetings she always offered.
She knew he was a slave yet still treated him kindly.
Most people changed once they discovered his status.
They either became hostile or indifferent.
Ram couldn’t bring himself to draw the blade across her throat and stepped back.
When the witch turned and saw his face, she was startled—not because someone was there to kill her, but because it was Ram.
"How did you end up doing such a terrible thing?"
The witch wept for him, and Ram realized later, after leaving her house, that he had cried as well.
"If you kill even those you know, this will be your life forever."
Ram had never thought of it as strange before.
What’s the big deal about killing someone you know?
If your master ordered it, you did it.
That was the life of a slave.
No reasons were necessary.
But this time, Ram wanted to know why.
"Did you predict the lord’s death?"
"No."
"People say the kind witch prophesied that Lord Selken would die soon."
"I merely expressed concern over ill omens in his future."
"There’s also a rumor you were preparing poison to make the prophecy come true."
"If I could really make poison, why would I let everyone know? Wouldn’t I do it in secret?"
"Did you curse him to die?"
"No."
"Then just tell the truth. You can prove your innocence in a trial."
Ram tried to reason with the witch, using what little he knew.
She gave him a bitter smile.
"A trial would require the lord to accuse me formally. But Selken can’t do that—there’s no legal basis. Even if he fabricates a reason, punishing me through the courts would make him look weak, as though he feared the words of a witch. So, he chose the easiest way."
"The easiest way?"
"He sent you."
"Then why don’t you just deny the rumors? Tell people you didn’t prepare poison."
"Words from a witch are twisted once they reach people’s ears. The truth becomes lies, and lies become truth. I’ve never used magic in this village, but they believe I’m a witch. So, I became one."
"But you did predict the lord’s future."
"It wasn’t a prediction; it was concern. Like telling someone to dress warmly to avoid catching a cold. But I should have been more careful. Selken already believes I intend to kill him, so everything I say and do becomes evidence in his mind."
The witch looked at Ram and asked softly,
"Do you also believe I’m a witch? Is that why you agree to kill me?"
"No. I’m a slave. I didn’t agree—I’m just following orders."
"Then you believe you must obey, even though you don’t have to."
Ram didn’t understand.
He believed he had to follow his master’s orders.
That was how he got meat.
He hated eating it, but he needed to accept it to share with the other slaves.
He couldn’t imagine another way.
Ram had to kill the witch.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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