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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 24: The Royal Guards
King Fried Gallant was genuinely taken aback the moment the "Shadow of Terdin" disappeared into the underbrush.
Surrounded by four royal guards, the shadow had completely vanished.
Commander Claive and the three other guards raised their swords high, then hesitated, their eyes darting around in confusion.
They said nothing.
Royal guards rarely spoke, and this wasn’t a situation that called for words.
There was no need to alert the enemy to their dismay.
Yet their hurried glances and subtle nods toward each other betrayed their unease.
‘Where did he go?’
‘Did you see him?’
‘Not over here. What about your side?’
‘Nothing here either.’
‘Check the ground carefully.’
‘He’s deeper in the bushes.’
‘He might’ve escaped.’
‘I’ll stay with the horses. He might try to ride off on one.’
‘We must protect His Majesty.’
‘No, he won’t go that way. From here, he can’t see the King. There’s no way he’d realize where the King is.’
Fried, like his guards, scanned the underbrush intently.
‘This was poorly chosen.’
The King silently chastised himself.
‘I thought this location would suppress noise, but it’s ended up giving the shadow a place to hide.’
However, there wasn’t a better place nearby to deal with him.
They could have gone farther, but that would have been inconvenient—both to lure him there and to return afterward.
Fried had no intention of helping his guards, but he kept a watchful eye on the bushes around him.
If the foliage moved unnaturally, he’d call out.
But under the faint breeze, all he saw were natural, gentle sways.
The moonlight was bright, but it couldn’t illuminate the deeper parts of the thicket.
‘I underestimated this situation.’
The King began to think of this as his mistake but stopped short.
‘No, Claive chose this spot, and Claive insisted we handle him here.’
From the moment the King gave the shadow the order to assassinate Terdin, Fried had a principle in mind: if the shadow agreed, the plan would proceed.
If he refused, he’d be executed.
The shadow refused.
Or rather, it seemed like he didn’t fully understand the order.
In that case, Fried should’ve executed him from the start.
But he couldn’t kill the Shadow of Terdin solely on his authority; it required a pretext.
Claive had devised the method.
‘Bring him here, Your Majesty. We need to test whether he truly has the skill to assassinate Mantum. From my perspective, he doesn’t seem capable. We can’t entrust such an important mission based solely on Count Vadio’s word.’
Claive always acted as though he was clever, but he wasn’t particularly smart.
Fried didn’t care whether the shadow had killed Mantum or even if he was skilled.
What mattered was that Terdin valued him.
Testing him was meant to be cursory, just enough to confirm his potential, and then Fried could entrust him with the task.
But Claive genuinely intended to kill the shadow.
‘This cleanup will be a nightmare.’
Just as he was mulling over the situation, the shadow reappeared, bursting out of the bushes.
One of the guards, Lahison, was knocked to the ground.
Lahison had been moving to guard the horses.
He was a skilled knight, renowned as a swordsmanship instructor in his province.
He had secured his place as a royal guard by achieving the second-highest score in the royal knight examinations.
As Lahison screamed, he flailed, trying to pry off a black figure clinging to his back.
Though it was too far away to see clearly, it appeared the shadow had targeted the gaps between Lahison’s helmet and armor.
If this had been a mere test, that strike would’ve killed him.
However, Claive had insisted they wear chainmail beneath their plate armor, which saved Lahison’s life.
But the shadow seemed to anticipate this.
Clinging to Lahison, he pulled him backward.
The combined weight of the heavy armor and another person caused Lahison to topple.
It wasn’t just a fall; the shadow twisted Lahison’s arm into an unnatural angle, forcing it backward.
Lahison screamed even louder than when the blade struck his neck.
Even then, Lahison continued to swing his sword.
But the shadow easily disarmed him and flung the weapon away.
It seemed Lahison was reflexively wielding the sword, not gripping it properly.
As Lahison’s arm slowed, it finally dropped limply.
It was unclear whether he’d lost consciousness from the shock or died.
By the time Lahison collapsed, the other three guards had closed in, surrounding the shadow.
Their plan was clear: even if Lahison died, they wouldn’t let the shadow escape.
But the shadow made an unexpected move.
Instead of fleeing or vanishing into the bushes again, he lunged straight at Claive, the first to charge, thrusting his sword.
Claive, raising his blade for an attack, hastily redirected it to defend.
However, it was difficult to block a thrust accurately in the dark.
The shadow’s blade struck Claive’s helmet.
Though the helmet absorbed the blow, Claive screamed and stumbled backward, clutching his face with his left hand—over his helmet.
He quickly got back up and began swinging his sword wildly.
The shadow dashed past Claive.
Two guards, Filey and Willis, gave chase.
Willis was known for his speed, said to outrun most grown men even in full armor.
His swordsmanship was so swift and precise that even Claive acknowledged it.
Yet against this shadow, neither Willis nor Claive could display their skills.
In this place, the four royal guards couldn’t do anything.
The shadow rendered them completely powerless.
From Claive’s helmet, black liquid dripped steadily.
It appeared the shadow’s blade had pierced inside.
The sword hadn’t fully penetrated the helmet’s eye slit, but the tip had likely grazed Claive’s eye or at least torn the skin around it.
The shadow had lived up to his earlier words to the King.
Though he had mentioned needing a weapon, he had proven his capability.
If he’d had a proper, long, slender weapon like an awl, two of the guards would likely already be dead.
‘In broad daylight, in an open space, just one of them would’ve been enough to toy with and kill this shadow. Be it Claive, Lahison, Filey, or Willis, any of them could’ve handled him. But testing him in this kind of setting…’
The shadow vanished once more.
Filey and Willis, wary of suffering the same fate as their comrades, stuck close together as they cautiously searched the underbrush.
Claive, groaning in pain and filled with rage, jabbed at the bushes erratically with his sword.
Finally, Fried couldn’t take it anymore and shouted,
“Enough!”
But the guards, consumed by their anger, continued swinging their weapons like children hacking at weeds with sticks.
“I said, enough!”
Fried yelled again, and the chaotic swordplay ceased.
Claive continued groaning, his pain evident.
Fried didn’t bother ordering him to quiet down.
“Shadow of Terdin, come forward,”
Fried commanded loudly toward the distant bushes.
Then, to the King’s astonishment, the shadow emerged not from afar but from a thicket just five steps away.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Fried had been watching the area around his guards, assuming the surroundings were well-lit by the moonlight and the bushes were low enough not to hide anyone.
He hadn’t paid much attention to that spot, so when the shadow appeared, it felt as if a ghost had materialized.
Instinctively, Fried let out a low gasp and stepped back.
Seeing the King’s fear, the shadow immediately prostrated himself, pressing his hands to the ground.
A proper knight would have merely knelt, but this was a groveling position—humiliatingly low.
“You called for me, Your Majesty?”
The King said nothing for a moment.
‘He noticed my fear. That’s not good.’
The fact that he was struggling to maintain his authority over a slave was absurd to him.
Willis and Claive approached.
Filey was helping the fallen Lahison to his feet.
Thankfully, he wasn’t dead.
It would have been a disgrace if the king’s royal guard had been killed by a mere slave.
Claive stood right behind the slave.
Despite being completely defenseless, the slave didn’t raise his head from his bowed posture.
‘This guy is too dangerous. He’s skilled enough to assassinate Mantum. If he sets his mind to it, killing Terdin would be child’s play.’
Right now, he could easily execute him.
‘If he can kill Terdin, that means he could kill me too!’
Claive raised his sword and signaled to the king.
The tip of his blade was aimed at the slave’s nape.
His helmet was stained with blood, dark as black ink.
It didn’t look like his eye was injured but as though the helmet itself had bled.
Though the moonlight didn’t reveal the inside of the helmet, one eye surely couldn’t even open.
‘With eyes like that, can he even aim for the neck properly? Acting all high and mighty…’
Fried shook his head at Claive.
Claive lowered his sword with an openly disappointed expression.
It was a shame to kill him.
His submissive demeanor, showing no resistance even with a sword aimed at his back in front of the king, was particularly appealing.
“You will never escape being a slave.”
The slave said nothing and remained prostrate.
“Raise your head.”
He obeyed.
His expression didn’t show defiance or rebellion against the king’s command.
Instead, it was a naive look, as though he didn’t understand what was being said.
“Stand and kneel. This position is uncomfortable.”
He followed the order without hesitation.
His expression remained unchanged.
“A perfect face for use.”
The king leaned toward the slave’s face.
“If I tell Baron Selken to take you back, can Illiam stop him?”
The king asked.
“I don’t know.”
From the first meeting until now, the slave’s expression hadn’t wavered.
It wasn’t a ploy or tactic—it was genuine ignorance.
That’s how slaves were.
“He can’t stop him. On the battlefield, Illiam may wield power, but in peacetime, he’s less significant than a minor rural lord. And if Baron Selken, who wields influence even in the royal court, were to take you by force, could Illiam stop him? Filing a lawsuit? The one deciding the case would be me. Which side do you think I’d choose? Hm?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can. No, I alone can. And I can give you even more than that.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean…”
“With a royal command, I could simply order you. But to make your choice easier, I’ll offer you a suitable reward. If you wish, I’ll grant you a title. Selken may lose a slave, but with equivalent compensation, he’ll let you go. Do you understand? A mere slave like you would become a noble with land.”
“I don’t understand what you mean. Do I have to do something?”
‘This isn’t just stupidity—he might not even comprehend the context of the conversation. I guess I’ll have to spell it out.’
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have used anything beyond metaphors and insinuations, but now he had no choice but to be explicit.
“Kill General Illiam Terdin.”
The shadow of Terdin was stunned into silence, unable to respond.
It was understandable.
Fried pushed further.
“Do it without anyone knowing. Leave no trace that it was you. But if you fail to carry out the king’s command and report this to Terdin, your life is forfeit. Even if you run away, there will be no place in this land for you to hide.”
At Fried’s gesture, Claive and three royal guards surrounded the slave, raising their swords.
No matter how well he could hide, there was no escaping this.
Lahison, who had just regained his senses and was staggering back, looked ready to slash him to pieces the moment the king’s order was given.
“A knight with land and title—or a criminal guilty of defying the king’s order. Which will you choose?”
It was an easy decision.
Yet the slave remained silent.
Fried didn’t force an answer.
Forcing one now wouldn’t make it sincere.
And sincerity wasn’t necessary.
Fried signaled the guards with a nod.
Three of them quickly complied, but Claive resisted until the king glared at him with a stern expression to dismiss him.
Claive reluctantly withdrew.
Fried turned and walked away under the escort of three guards, but Claive couldn’t help himself.
He turned back to the slave and spoke one last time.
“If you can’t do it, say so now. I’ll cut your throat painlessly.”
The slave said nothing.
To an outsider seeing only this moment, it might appear that the kingdom’s mightiest knight in heavy armor was threatening and intimidating an unarmed young man.
As Claive returned to the allied camp, he couldn’t suppress the simmering rage that erupted with each breath.
When he finally reached the king, he spoke in a tone of defiance.
“You should have dealt with him. He won’t obey.”
‘Who’s not obeying whom?’
Fried thought silently, maintaining a dignified exterior.
“We’ll see,”
Fried said aloud, appearing calm.
“He’ll surely report to General Terdin.”
Claive’s words reflected the thoughts of the other guards as well.
Fried let them think so.
Thoughts spread like wildfire.
Eventually, everyone who discovered this secret mission would come to the same conclusion.
‘Either way, I will win—whether he kills General Terdin or fails.’
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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