Shadow Oath

Chapter 37: Tue. Icarum (1)

After Hak Maraka was dragged out, the commotion did not subside for a while.

‘Something feels off.’

Jedric focused on every gaze and gesture of the people, carefully observing the situation.

He didn’t move his head around or get up from his seat; he simply moved his eyes.

‘Maraka is stubborn and rigid, but he’s not someone who acts recklessly like that. Why did he suddenly do such a thing?’

Though he referred to it as "such a thing," he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

What was he planning to do with that blood-smeared dagger?

Throw it to hit the prince?

The aim was nowhere near accurate, and it didn’t even seem like he intended to hit in the first place.

It wasn’t thrown but rather dropped, as if by accident.

The dagger Maraka had dropped was now in Stuga's hands.

Stuga, unsure of what to do with it, held it for a long while before tucking it into his waist.

Jedric was more concerned about the words Maraka uttered as he was being dragged away than about the dagger.

It sounded like a curse, but he couldn’t make out the words.

The distance and the noise made it hard to hear, and it seemed no one else paid attention to it either.

‘He said something. But I don’t know what it was.’

Jedric wanted to discuss the matter with someone, but it wasn’t the right atmosphere, and he didn’t have anyone to talk to.

Should I tell Demion?

He was busy talking with Charlon.

Having witnessed a shaman spewing curses of death right in front of him, it was unlikely that he could calm his nerves so quickly.

Should I consult with Terrdin?

He was busy trying to settle the knights.

The kingdom’s knights were furious.

They questioned whether it was acceptable to let this pass, demanded an immediate trial, and called for the old man’s execution.

Some knights even complained that a barbarian had tried to seize their swords amidst the chaos, asking how such insolence could be tolerated.

Terrdin wouldn’t even have time to drink a glass of water for the foreseeable future.

Then should I ask Ikahm?

Ikahm, too, was angry and busy trying to manage the situation.

“We need to stop the banquet here.”

Ikahm shouted to the elders gathered in front of the bonfire at the center of the banquet hall, along with two other Ehodins, before leaving without seeking the prince’s permission.

The elders followed Ikahm out of the hall in a hurry.

A couple of them glanced at the prince, but Ikahm’s orders clearly carried more weight for them.

Only Elder Sao approached Jedric to offer an apology.

“I’m worried that Ikahm might have been rude to the prince in his agitation, Jeje. The matter is serious, and we decided to hold a meeting amongst ourselves urgently. Could you explain this to the prince?”

“I’ll make something up.”

“Will it work?”

“He’s an understanding person. He’s not the kind of southerner we’re biased against.”

Jedric quickly added, fearing Sao might misunderstand.

“But don’t try to take advantage of that understanding. Please advise my brother not to pull such stunts.”

“You know he won’t listen to me.”

“Even so, you should still say it.”

“I will.”

After Sao left, Jedric spoke to Demion in a hushed tone.

“I apologize on his behalf, Prince. Ikahm isn’t in his right mind right now. He has no intention of harming you.

In fact, he’s overreacting because if you were even slightly injured and the negotiations broke down, it could lead to the annihilation of our tribe.”

“I feel like I’ve suddenly been abandoned, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

Demion exaggerated a shrug and continued.

“But leaving a guest in the middle of a banquet without any apology isn’t your tribe’s custom, is it?”

“Of course not. By our standards, my brother’s actions are undeniably rude.”

Jedric admitted, and Demion smiled, accepting the explanation.

“It’s best to resolve this awkward atmosphere quickly, Jedric.

I don’t want these negotiations to fail over something trivial like this.”

Jedric couldn’t help but feel grateful that Demion was the conqueror they were dealing with.

If someone like Count Badio were here, a few heads might have already rolled.

“Then I’ll convey your thoughts to the tribal council myself.”

Jedric nodded and stepped back.

As he walked toward the banquet hall’s main entrance, he hesitated several times.

‘I’m worried. Can I leave?’

Even a composed person like Maraka had acted out unpredictably.

There was no guarantee others in the village wouldn’t attempt the same.

There were too many suspects to count.

‘Not that my presence would make a difference.’

The prince and the princess were surrounded by knights.

Even the attendants clearing the food were hesitant to approach.

There were plenty of people to guard them.

General Terrdin remained by the bonfire.

He nodded at someone.

Turning around, Jedric saw Stuga nod back to the general and follow him.

“The general ordered me to accompany you.”

Stuga approached and said quietly.

“It might end up being a private meeting among us. You can’t stay by my side.”

Jedric replied cautiously.

“Then I’ll only go as far as the entrance.”

“I can’t guarantee permission, but I’ll try to ask.”

The tribal council was held in a warehouse about twenty paces from the banquet hall.

It doubled as a smaller banquet hall and a guesthouse for important visitors.

The structure, with its thatched roof of dried leaves, resembled the grand banquet hall but was only about a third of its size.

Still, compared to other houses, it was much larger.

Ikahm let the other tribal leaders and elders enter first, then waited for Jedric at the entrance.

He noticed Stuga trailing behind and asked.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Watch your words. He’s a southerner who can understand the Geran language.”

Jedric quickly countered, but Ikahm remained indifferent.

“So, who is he?”

“He’s the shadow who protected me in the Triton camp.

Even now, he’s guarding me. He won’t attend the meeting; he’ll just stand outside if you allow—”

“Let him in.”

Ikahm’s voice, still tinged with anger, made it sound more like he was inviting him to a brawl than to a meeting.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a secret meeting? Isn’t that why we left the banquet hall?”

When Jedric expressed his confusion, Ikahm replied.

“He’s a royal guard of the prince, right?

His presence will serve as proof of our sincerity.

We just don’t want outsiders to witness the clamor of the discussion, not the results.”

Jedric turned to Stuga.

“Will you be alright?”

Stuga, as usual, nodded politely without a word, his face unreadable.

‘Well, it’s safer than leaving him outside.’

This wasn’t the banquet hall guarded by the kingdom’s knights.

It was the village, where people like Batu roamed freely.

Inside the smaller banquet hall, the skin of a great beast hunted by the previous chieftain hung on the walls.

On the floor was the largest bear skin ever hunted, its mouth open as if growling.

Ikahm stepped over the bear skin and walked to the far end of the hall.

The elders sat one by one on the heavy wooden benches placed on either side of the bear skin.

Ikahm sat on a large wooden chair as imposing as the chieftain’s seat in the grand banquet hall and shouted.

“This southerner will attend the meeting as well, so speak without hesitation.”

Initially wary of Stuga, the elders soon began a heated debate.

Though Stuga was present as a witness to the sincerity of the discussion, he might find it hard to grasp what was being said.

The dialects of Meios and Rochier, the two tribal leaders, were so peculiar that even Jedric struggled to understand them.

The elders’ pronunciation was often so slurred that even people from the same village frequently failed to comprehend them.

Half of the meeting consisted of exchanges like “What?” “What did you just say?” and “Speak clearly.”

The meeting did not last long.

The Gerans considered keeping meetings short a virtue, and the impatient Ikahm found even that too long to bear.

Even during the strategy meetings hosted by his father, he was often scolded for rushing to conclude things quickly.

“This is why I said from the beginning that we should lock Hak Maraka up!”

Meios shouted.

“Didn’t you agree that if we detained both Hak and Hag, there wouldn’t be any shamans left in the village?

We couldn’t let that happen, could we?”

Rochier countered.

“I said it was unavoidable, not that I agreed.”

“That’s the same as agreeing!”

Neither of the two tribal leaders had brought their village shamans here.

It was taboo.

In other words, Hak Maraka was the only shaman who could operate in this village.

In the midst of crucial surrender negotiations, it was inconceivable not to have a shaman to interpret the will of the gods.

Soon, the conversation shifted to punishing Maraka through a village trial.

However, no one seemed willing to bring up the topic outright.

Ikahm, displeased by this, raised his voice.

“Is everyone here worried about bad omens or something?

Do you all want this negotiation to fail?”

Elder Sao gently tried to soothe him.

“No one here wants this negotiation to fail, Ikahm.”

Out of the ten tribes, only three had surrendered.

Terrdin had promised to protect the surrendered tribes and to subdue the seven tribes that had fled.

If Terrdin’s army were to withdraw, the three tribes would be branded as traitors and inevitably face invasions from the other seven tribes.

Their people would either be killed or enslaved.

“We need to understand Maraka.

To him, Mantum was a lifelong friend and king.

How could he easily quell his desire for revenge when someone like that died…?”

“I lost my father!”

Ikahm’s voice silenced Elder Sao.

The other elders, too cautious to intervene, said nothing.

“Maraka’s foolish thirst for revenge will destroy the village.

Before that happens, I’ll cut off Maraka’s head.

If we don’t show this level of sincerity to the southern prince, he won’t accept it.

Does anyone oppose this?”

No one opposed.

Or rather, no one dared to oppose.

‘No one will face that anger head-on.

I have to speak up.

Demion doesn’t want an execution.’

Just as Jedric raised his hand to speak, Sao spoke first.

“The southern prince said there is no need to execute Maraka.”

Another elder, watching the situation, added.

“The ‘princess’ beside him also said so. Isn’t that right, Jeje?”

Jedric nodded and spoke.

“Both of them clearly said they do not wish for an execution.

And the southern people aren’t as afraid of our magic as we are.”

Sao emphasized once more.

“If the conqueror directly said not to execute him and we go ahead and do it anyway, that, too, would hurt his pride.”

“He said to leave it to a trial.

Then we should hold a trial and impose a severe punishment.

This could be his way of telling us to deal with it properly.

It’s a gesture of respect to the conqueror.”

Jedric sighed.

‘If you care so much about respect, you shouldn’t have stormed out of the banquet hall in the first place.’

Sao suggested.

“What if we show the village trial as it is and leave the sentencing to the prince?

That way, we can uphold the prince’s pride while emphasizing that it wasn’t our decision.”

Another elder spoke up.

“That’s a good idea.

And how about showing him the utmost courtesy as well?”

“What do you mean by the utmost courtesy?”

Ikahm asked.

“Once the banquet ends tonight, the prince is supposed to return to the camp stationed outside the village, isn’t he?”

The Elhum people had gone to great lengths to prepare for the banquet, but to Prince Demion, it was merely a formal dinner.

The food likely wasn’t to his taste, and the precious liquor of the Gerans might have seemed crude to the southerners.

There was no reason for the prince to spend the night here.

The camp where his soldiers were stationed and better preparations were made would be far more comfortable.

“Instead, why not offer him the grand banquet hall?”

Jedric wanted to oppose the idea, but the elders supported it enthusiastically.

“That’s an excellent idea.

Didn’t he also bring his wife?”

“Right.

It would be a fine gift.

Offering the conqueror a place like the grand banquet hall, which is sacred to Adian Mantum, would carry great symbolic meaning!”

To the Gerans, lending a house to a visiting couple was the highest form of hospitality.

But Jedric doubted it would feel like a gift to Demion.

It was uncertain whether he would understand its symbolic significance.

However, no one asked for Jedric’s opinion.

And he didn’t offer it.

The decision would ultimately be made by Ikahm, and his brother had already decided.

Unless it was overturned by force, Ikahm wouldn’t change his mind.

“So be it.

Southern guest, did you listen to the contents of this meeting well?”

Ikahm directed the question to Stuga, who was standing behind Jedric.

Stuga shook his head and replied in awkward pronunciation.

“I, Geran words, not familiar.

Don’t understand fully.”

Everyone nodded, having expected as much.

However, Jedric was surprised by the unexpected situation.

‘He didn’t speak this clumsily when talking to me.

He’s deliberately speaking like this.

What a clever guy!’

Ikahm pointed at Jedric and said.

“Then Jeje, convey the meeting’s content directly.

But…”

Just as Jedric was about to agree, Ikahm stared intently at Stuga and asked.

“What is that at your waist?”

Before Stuga could take it out, Jedric recognized what it was.

The unique design of the dagger’s handle was unmistakable to anyone from the village.

It was Hak Maraka’s dagger.