Shadow's Oath

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Chapter 39: Maraka’s Dagger (1)

“...So the conclusion from the chieftains' council is that tomorrow morning, the verdict of Maraka’s trial will be left to me, and until then, the two of us are to spend the night together in this banquet hall?”

Jedrick relayed the council's decision, and Damion was dumbfounded.

Ram instinctively glanced at Charlon’s expression.

She seemed surprised as well, but her reaction didn’t betray much emotion.

Judging by her face, she didn’t appear angry, but that might just be her way of expressing anger.

She didn’t seem embarrassed by the mention of sharing a room, but that too was uncertain.

Reading a woman’s expression was difficult.

“Stuga, is this true? This guy isn’t just making it up to mess with me, is he?”

Damion turned to Ram for confirmation.

“It’s true. The chieftains were concerned about how angry Your Highness might be and were seeking ways to calm your anger.”

“I wasn’t angry before, but now I’m getting there because of this nonsense.”

At Damion’s words, Jedrick spoke persuasively.

“I’m just delivering the council’s decision. The choice is yours. But let me clarify—when they say ‘spending the night together,’ they don’t mean you have to share the same bed. It simply means staying in the same hall overnight as guests. That’s all.”

“Are you sure Ikarum isn’t just trying to set me up for humiliation?”

“Ikarum is more invested in this negotiation than anyone. He’s also anxious,”

Jedrick said calmly.

“You could have demanded much more from us. Instead, you agreed to our terms. You could have pillaged, but instead, you promised to protect us from the seven tribes. The elders and chieftains see this deal as a great gift. They want to reciprocate in a way that would impress you, their conqueror.”

Jedrick gestured toward Charlon.

“And I suspect that the elders might have assumed that by bringing a ‘woman’ with you, Prince Damion, you’d already given your consent to this arrangement.”

“Consent? What do you mean by that?”

Charlon asked.

“It wasn’t part of the negotiation that the prince would bring a lady,”

Jedrick explained as he glanced at Terdin, who had been silently sitting by the central fire in the banquet hall.

The fire had burned low, and no new wood had been added, as it was almost time to extinguish it and leave.

Ram, observing Terdin with arms crossed and eyes closed, involuntarily thought of thirty different ways to kill the general.

He quickly pushed the thoughts away.

Terdin rubbed his chin thoughtfully and spoke.

“As Jedrick said, there was no mention of a wife or betrothed accompanying the prince during the negotiations. It seemed natural at the time. But now that the prince has brought her, it seems the Geron people have interpreted it rather broadly...”

“Then should I not have brought Lady Charlon?”

“That’s not it, Your Highness,”

Terdin reassured, scanning the hall.

Inside were ten knights stationed at each corner, with the remaining guards outside.

There wasn’t a single Geron in sight.

The hall was so quiet that the sound of crackling firewood seemed loud.

Even the northern wind was absent tonight, amplifying the stillness.

“Everyone, please take a seat,”

Terdin gestured to the seats by the fire.

Damion seated Charlon first before sitting beside her.

Ram stood behind Terdin, remembering Kura’s words:

‘You might bear responsibility for failing to protect the general, but no one will suspect you of killing him.’

Terdin, now leaning close to the “three youths,” looked at Jedrick and asked,

“What do the Geron think about the prince bringing the lady?”

“It was a good decision. If you’d asked my advice, I’d have told you to bring her. For us, it’s the highest courtesy when a high-ranking guest brings their wife.”

“Wife? But we’re not...”

Damion hurriedly glanced at Charlon, continuing.

“...Technically, we haven’t even had a betrothal ceremony yet.”

“We have no concept of betrothal. If a man brings a woman to such an event, she’s his wife. Formalities come later.”

“I didn’t come here to follow Geron customs! Southern men don’t sleep with unmarried women!”

Damion protested obstinately.

‘That’s not entirely true…’

Ram thought to himself.

Terdin spoke calmly.

“They’re not asking you to get into bed together. Sharing the space in this spacious banquet hall should suffice. I think Jedrick has a point. As long as nothing happens between you, isn’t it fine?”

“General! I’m considering Lady Charlon’s safety and comfort!”

Damion insisted.

“For security, ten knights will remain inside the hall, and another ten will be stationed outside. Besides, our soldiers are effectively managing the entire village. What do you think, Jedrick?”

Jedrick replied without hesitation.

“The lady’s opinion matters most.”

Damion turned to Charlon.

“What do you think, Charlon?”

Charlon, who had been silent until now, responded immediately when Damion asked.

“I didn’t come to the north without preparation. Serving the ruler of the northern lands, I see no reason to feel uncomfortable staying in this house. I feel sorry for my brother, Rusef, who’s probably busy setting up camp, but I doubt it’s any more comfortable there. My back hasn’t been happy with the poor bedding the past few days. How’s the bed here?”

Jedrick nodded.

“The beds here are fit for a king by our standards. The best linens, leathers, and wool blankets—far better than the makeshift ones in your camps.”

Charlon placed her hand on Damion’s and said,

“Perfect. If they’re pleased with this arrangement, I’ll stay here.”

“If Charlon agrees, so do I.”

Terdin clapped briefly and stood.

“Settled, then. I’ll personally inform Ikarum about the details, including Maraka’s trial. I’ll also stay in nearby accommodations. Shadow—no, Stuga—you should remain here, too.”

Ram, startled, asked,

“But I am the general’s shadow.”

“Haven’t you been the prince’s shadow for the past week?”

“Wouldn’t my presence here make it uncomfortable for them...?”

Terdin interrupted, asking the pair,

“What do you think?”

Damion imitated Jedrick’s earlier tone, saying,

“Charlon’s opinion is what matters. What do you think?”

Ram expected Charlon to refuse.

Surely, she wouldn’t want someone unfamiliar, not even a woman, staying close by all night.

“I’m fine with it,”

Charlon said, even smiling at Ram.

This unexpected decision was taken in stride by Damion.

“Then I’m fine with it, too. Stuga, stay here.”

Ram almost refused again but changed his mind.

If he stayed near the pair, he’d be away from Terdin.

He wouldn’t have to follow the wizard’s ominous suggestion!

“Understood,”

Ram replied, but as he accepted the order, a lingering problem resurfaced in his mind.

Strapped to his waist was still Maraka’s dagger.

He couldn’t stay near them with that cursed blade.

‘I have to deal with this somehow.’

“No, absolutely not!”

Not long after Terdin had left, Charlon's nanny, Odel, burst into the grand hall and shouted.

"Absolutely not! Under no circumstances!"

Ram thought the scolding voice of this elderly woman rivaled the battle cries of Geron warriors.

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"It’s already decided, Odel."

Charlon’s annoyance was evident from the moment Odel began striding in.

As soon as the older woman stood before her, Charlon straightened her posture and spoke firmly.

"The Ikarum chieftain and General Terdin have just reached an agreement. There’s no turning back now."

"I don’t care about that nonsense! I oppose this entirely. We must hurry to where Lord Rusef is—"

"Odel!"

Charlon cut off the nanny's words with a sharp yell.

"It’s His Highness the prince. Show some respect. What nonsense are you spouting?"

Only then did Odel notice the prince standing behind Charlon.

She gave a half-hearted nod, barely managing a semblance of a bow, but she wasn’t ready to back down.

"I may be an ignorant old woman who doesn’t understand what was said to that barbarian chieftain, but I know one thing for sure. A noble lady like you cannot stay in the home of savages!"

"Don’t call them savages. Soon, this land will be ruled by His Highness, and the people you call savages will become his subjects."

Charlon stood her ground.

Odel retorted in a threatening tone.

"I will inform Lord Rusef of this at once!"

"Thank you. I needed someone to pass along the message."

With a face flushed with anger and humiliation, Odel stormed out, stomping heavily as she went.

She didn’t even bow this time.

Charlon apologized, embarrassed.

"I’m sorry, Your Highness. I didn’t want to bring her, but Rusef insisted on her accompaniment."

"Think nothing of it. I’ve grown accustomed to the nagging of attendants who follow royal ladies around."

"What kind of nagging do royal ladies usually hear?"

"The same sort, I suppose—carry yourself properly, stand and speak this way, fulfill your duties as a woman, and so on. Honestly, just listening to it was exhausting."

"And what, exactly, are a woman’s duties?"

"There were so many, I couldn’t possibly remember them all. I even thought of reading about them, so I asked where they were written down. Turns out, they didn’t know either."

Charlon chuckled briefly, and Damion smiled warmly in return.

Then Charlon’s gaze naturally shifted to Jedrick.

"What do Geron men think a woman’s duties are?"

"Hmm, I’ve never really thought about it,"

Jedrick replied indifferently, deliberately avoiding Charlon’s gaze.

"To protect the family. To keep the household safe when the husband is away and, if necessary, to go to war in his place. If I had to say, that would be a woman’s duty."

Ram had seen Geron women fight on the battlefield in the same armor and with the same weapons as men.

He hadn’t wanted to kill them, but he had no choice when they clashed.

"And they must also keep their chastity. If a man approaches them without their husband’s consent, they can kill him and remain blameless. If their husband dies, they take on his role. That’s why, if a mother loses her children and husband to murder, she is forgiven if she goes mad and massacres the killer’s entire family."

"That’s strange. What happens if a man loses his wife and children?"

Damion asked.

"Then he stands trial,"

Jedrick replied as if it were self-evident.

"Why is that the case?"

"It’s so obvious I wouldn’t even know how to explain it."

Damion opened his mouth as if to ask another question but closed it, unsure of how to phrase it.

Charlon asked with curiosity,

"By the way, why was I the only woman in the banquet hall? Even the servants were all men. I thought serving food was a woman’s task, but is it different here?"

"Low-ranking individuals aren’t allowed inside,"

Jedrick replied, unintentionally meeting Charlon’s gaze.

"High-ranking women prepare the food. You can’t have just anyone cook for a prince. And since only men of appropriate rank are left, they’re the ones who serve the food."

"Why didn’t your mother or Ikarum’s attend? Shouldn’t she show respect to His Highness by greeting him?"

"They can’t meet someone who killed their husbands. It’s not out of revenge—it’s just custom."

"Does that tie into what you mentioned earlier? That a wife is forgiven for killing her husband’s murderer?"

"Exactly. Would a prince enjoy food and drink comfortably in front of someone who has the right to kill him without consequence?"n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Damion cleared his throat awkwardly.

Charlon continued her questions.

"I noticed marks on the columns in the hall. They’re peculiar symbols. What do they mean?"

"They’re charms to ward off evil spirits. There’s a superstition that the dead rise at night to seek out those who killed them."

"As a king, there would be plenty of dead seeking him out. No wonder so many charms are needed. Fascinating."

"Is it really? Your own culture has similar practices, doesn’t it?"

"Of course. For example..."

Charlon animatedly described the magical traditions of Born.

Sitting between them, Damion glanced at both with a complicated expression.

‘If this were Lord Selken, he wouldn’t allow his wife to chat so freely with another man. Maybe it’s because they’re not married yet, or perhaps the prince is unusually generous.’

Ram sensed unease in the air despite the pleasant conversation.

Having guarded Damion for some time, Ram was acutely aware of his feelings toward Charlon.

But oddly, he couldn’t detect any similar feelings from Charlon.

Or so he thought.

Then he realized Charlon did show such feelings—toward Jedrick.

‘That’s impossible. Charlon and Jedrick haven’t known each other long, and they’re from entirely different worlds. No one would believe they could feel affection for one another.’

Even Jedrick was gazing warmly at Charlon.

Ram almost wished they’d go back to bickering, as they had at the start of the banquet.

Something was bound to go wrong, he feared.

"Excuse me, I have something urgent to say."

Ram cut into the conversation deliberately, also preventing Damion from saying something.

Interrupting nobles’ conversations was unthinkable for a slave, yet Ram had been waiting for a chance to speak.

After Terdin left?

After Odel stormed out?

After Charlon’s barrage of questions ended?

He had hesitated at every opportunity.

Deep down, he hadn’t wanted to bring it up.

But he couldn’t delay any longer.

He felt like she was being swept along by the current, about to fulfill Kura’s ominous prediction.

So, Ram stopped their conversation, knowing full well the impropriety of his actions.

With all three sets of eyes on him, he felt momentarily suffocated.

But he steeled himself, drawing a dagger from his waist and holding it up, blade glinting in his palm.

"I have something to say about this dagger. I apologize for interrupting."

"What dagger is that?"

Damion asked.

"It’s the dagger of Hak Maraka."

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