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[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 21: The Prince and the High Chieftain
Ram went as planned to guard the front of Jedrick’s tent.
The two soldiers who had been guarding it looked anxious, but when they spotted Ram, they asked him,
"Is it true that His Majesty has ordered meat to be served?"
"Is it true we’re getting meat for lunch?"
They spoke so quickly and in unison that their words blended together, making it hard to distinguish who said what.
"Yes. Each person is being given one portion. Wine is also being served—one cup per person—but you’ll need to bring your own cup. You two should hurry. I’ll take over from here."
"Thank you!"
The two soldiers dashed off as if a battle had broken out.
One of them stopped partway and turned back.
"Have you eaten yet?"
Ram didn’t want to say he didn’t feel like eating the meat.
For starving soldiers, that would be unthinkable.
He didn’t want to seem strange, so he deflected.
"You’d better hurry. Distribution has already started, and judging by the amount being cooked, there might not be enough for everyone."
"Right, got it."
Once the soldiers left, Ram filled the empty spot they had vacated.
He had always preferred solitude over noisy feasts.
While tables laden with meat, fruit, and wine were irresistible temptations for most slaves, to Ram, they were simply items to be moved and cleaned up afterward.
“Stuga, come inside for a moment.”
Jedrick’s voice called from within the tent.
When Ram entered, Jedrick tossed three books he had been reading onto the ground at Ram’s feet.
"I need books, Stuga. I must learn more of your language."
Ram picked up the three books and examined them.
"I’ll see what I can find, but to my knowledge, this is all there is."
Just then, Ram heard the sound of three sets of footsteps approaching the tent.
While most were heading toward the meat distribution point, these footsteps were coming in the opposite direction.
"I thought books were a daily part of life in the South?"
Jedrick asked.
"Not really. Even in the South, many people can’t read, and few nobles own more than ten books. Besides, I doubt anyone would have brought books to the battlefield."
As Ram explained, the footsteps grew louder, and soon the tent door opened.
"I have books,"
Said Prince Damion.
With Ram inside and the guards gone to eat meat, there was no one to stop him.
Instead, one of the guards Damion had brought took up position to guard the tent.
Ram couldn’t bring himself to say that entering without General Terdin’s permission was not allowed.
After all, the prince was already inside.
"And who are you?"
Jedrick asked cautiously.
In contrast, Prince Damion’s voice was full of energy.
"I am Damion, second prince of the Kingdom of Triton. And you must be the barbarian—no, the High Chieftain of the Geron tribe. What was it again? Elhorn?"
"That’s correct."
"I heard you could speak our language, but you’re better at it than I expected."
"Am I?"
Jedrick replied indifferently, but Damion’s blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Fascinating. How did you become High Chieftain? I thought you’d be older, but you seem about my age. I’m eighteen."
"Close enough."
"I knew it!"
Damion looked around the tent and shrugged.
"Not even a single chair in here, huh?"
One of the guards poked his head into the tent.
"I’ll bring one in."
"No, I’ll sit just like him."
Damion plopped down in front of Jedrick.
The guard, still half inside, pointed at Jedrick and asked,
"Wouldn’t it be better if we stayed inside as well? It’s dangerous to leave you two alone."
"It’s fine. There’s a shadow here."
"A shadow?"
When the guard asked, Damion pointed at Ram.
"Terdin said this man is the High Chieftain’s shadow. He called him Stuga, didn’t he?"
[TL/N: I think Terdin lied to him??]
Ram wasn’t sure how to respond and gave a short reply.
"Yes."
"And he said as long as Stuga’s here, there’s no need to worry. You just make sure no one else comes in."
Though Damion’s tone was light and cheerful, it carried an odd authority.
The guard glanced at Jedrick and then at Ram, his gaze sharp with warning.
Once the guard stepped back outside, Damion asked,
"Now, explain how you became High Chieftain. It might help with 'what I have to do' moving forward."
Jedrick looked at Ram, as if asking for help, but Ram had nothing to say or do.
Jedrick shook his head and replied,
"This is confusing. I thought such questions would come from Terdin or the king, not his son."
"From now on, I will be your king."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Figure it out."
Jedrick blinked a few times before replying,
"So, my assumption was wrong. General Terdin will simply complete the war and return home, while the one to rule this land will be a prince of the Kingdom of Triton. You’ll make this place your domain, collect taxes, and send the revenue to your father, correct?"
"Exactly. I’m sure you’ll have much to say to me in the future."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Then at least tell me how you became High Chieftain. It’s not exactly a secret, is it?"
Jedrick sighed.
"It’s no secret. We were divided into several tribes. Some farmed, some raised cattle and horses while moving from land to land, and some raided. Because of the raiding tribes, you probably think all of us are raiders."
"I’ve heard that the tribes live different lifestyles, and yes, I do think of you all as raiders."
Damion spoke openly.
"In this war, the ten largest tribes formed an alliance. All the chieftains agreed to elect one High Chieftain."
"The tribe leaders are called Ehodin, and the High Chieftain is Elhorn, correct?"
Damion asked.
Jedrick quickly responded,
"You know your stuff."
"Your father, Adian Mantum, was the Elhorn, wasn’t he?"
"Yes."
"Mantum—is that your family name?"
"We don’t have complicated names like yours with family names or middle names. My name is simply Jedrick, son of Adian. Mantum is not a name but a title given to the Elhorn who is the greatest warrior."
Jedrick paused to choose his words.
"A kind of rank, you could say."
"Only three tribes supported you as High Chieftain, right?"
"The other seven tribes did not surrender. Strictly speaking, they could form their own alliance again. If they do, the Elhorn they elect might gather their army to attack you."
"It’s clear why they didn’t surrender—they plan to continue raiding, don’t they?"
Jedrick nodded, and Damion nodded firmly as well.
"If I become the ruler here, I’ll need to discuss with you how to deal with those seven tribes."
"What would be the point of discussing it with me?"
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[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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"We need to persuade those seven tribes to not unite and fight against us again."
"They didn’t come over even when my older brother tried to convince them. They’ll listen to me even less."
"But you’re the High Chieftain."
"Only of three tribes, not the seven."
"If you have an older brother, that makes you the second son?"
"That’s correct."
"Same as me, then."
"I figured as much. They wouldn’t send the eldest son to be the ruler of this northern land."
"That’s right. By our standards, this is the land of barbarians—no fertile fields, cold, no fruits, the rivers are frozen, the seas are treacherous, and the winds cut through flesh. The crown prince wouldn’t waste his time here. But a second son, one who can afford to waste time? That’s who gets tested here. And if I fail to achieve results, my father will enslave all the tribes here."
Jedrick furrowed an eyebrow.
"We’d choose death over slavery."
"And if my father can’t enslave you, he’ll choose massacre."
Anger surfaced on Jedrick’s face.
Yet Damion’s face still carried a smile.
Not because he wasn’t bitter, but because he hadn’t let it show.
"I won’t let that happen. You’ll live as you always have. But for that to happen, you and the three tribes that have surrendered need to help me. We have to prevent the seven tribes from starting another war."
"You’re naive, Prince Damion. Things won’t go as you think."
"I know. They never do."
Damion stood up.
"I’ll bring some liquor next time."
"Is that all?"
"That’s all for today."
"Then... why did you come here?"
"To introduce myself. I’ll be leaving now."
As Damion was about to leave the tent, he turned back and gave a bright smile.
"I have a good feeling about this, Jedrick. I think next time, we can have a more serious conversation. I feel like we could become good friends. What do you think?"
Jedrick looked as if he’d just heard the strangest proposal in the world.
"I don’t think so, Prince Damion."
"But I do, Jedrick Elhorn."
Damion turned to Ram, who stood by the door, and asked,
"And you, Stuga?"
He patted Ram’s shoulder and left.
After Damion had gone, Ram tilted his head and asked,
"Me?"
Damion was already gone. Ram wanted to chase after him, grab him by the shoulder, and ask, "What do you mean by ‘you too’?" but he couldn’t.
He considered asking Jedrick, but the man was lost in deep thought.
His expression was stunned.
For the first time, a flicker of boyish emotion appeared on Jedrick’s face—a face usually so composed that even the guards stationed here regarded him as emotionless stone.
Confusion.
...And a touch of excitement.
Late that night, Ram carried a bowl of food back to his tent.
The bed, made of dry leaves and straw, felt stiff but welcoming.
Having a private tent still felt unfamiliar.
It was a place he could spend alone, but he had never thought of it as his own space.
He didn’t spend much time there, preferring to stand guard outside Jedrick’s tent instead—it felt more comfortable.
If not for Jedrick’s guards, who had returned red-faced from drinking and insisted Ram take a break, he wouldn’t have come here.
Ram set his share of meat soup, a piece of bread, and a slice of cheese on the small wooden table.
He wasn’t hungry, but he knew he had to eat, so he forced the food down.
It had gone cold, but it was a rare treat—a proper meal.
Fresh cheese, without mold, was a luxury.
The bread was soft, not the usual rock-hard kind that needed to be soaked in water.
As he neared the end of his meal, Ram suddenly realized someone else was in the tent.
Without making a sound, they were seated with him.
For someone as attuned to the night’s sights, smells, and sounds as Ram, the wizard’s silent arrival was a shock.
The wizard seemed just as surprised.
The moment Ram’s gaze locked onto him, he couldn’t hide his astonishment.
"I’ve never seen someone this sensitive before. How did you notice the moment I appeared?"
It was the younger of the two wizards Ram had met before.
Of course, he was likely much older than he looked.
"Aren’t we not supposed to meet?"
Ram asked.
"Who told you that? General Terdin?"
The wizard spoke in a voice as soft as the first time they had met.
"Not explicitly, but it’s understood that we shouldn’t."
"That’s probably the general’s fear speaking. And that fear is exactly why I’m here."
Ram wasn’t comfortable speaking in the wizards’ cryptic style.
He wanted direct answers.
"What do you mean?"
Fortunately, the wizard answered plainly.
"I need to talk to you about the mission to assassinate General Terdin."
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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