Shadow Oath

Chapter 23: The King’s Summons

It was a massive tent, unlike anything I had ever seen before.

Not only the entrance but every side—left, right, and rear—was heavily guarded.

More than ten torches burned brightly, illuminating the area around the tent as if it were midday.

If Mantum had stayed in such a tent, Ram wouldn’t have even been able to attempt an assassination.

The king was seated on an iron throne.

Even General Terrdin used a small wooden chair during meetings, and most commanders or knights could hardly afford chairs.

That meant it had been brought directly from the capital.

Did they really carry this heavy thing all the way here?

All just so the king could sit?

Even though it was night and the time for sleep, the king wore heavy armor as if he could march into battle at any moment.

The light from the blazing bonfire in the center of the tent reflected off his armor, making it gleam like gold.

With the right helmet, he could probably withstand a rain of arrows.

To the king’s left stood three individuals of unclear ranks, while on his right stood Archbishop Aikop, clad in a white clerical robe.

Behind the king, two young male attendants held a pitcher and a plate of food, respectively.

At the farthest end, there was a massive bed.

Its size was unimaginable—how they brought it here along with the iron throne was a mystery.

Did they bring the parts and assemble it here?

Prince Demion was nowhere to be seen.

Next to the king stood Count Badio, who glared at Ram with a haughty expression.

Ram didn’t know the proper etiquette to address a king.

So, he greeted him the same way he greeted Baron Selkon, kneeling on one knee and waiting.

“State your name.”

It wasn’t the king who spoke but Archbishop Aikop who commanded him.

His voice was less imposing than expected.

As the Archbishop, he would be the highest-ranking cleric in the Kingdom of Triton, yet his voice wasn’t particularly divine or authoritative.

Still, he was a high-ranking figure, and Ram obeyed with the utmost respect.

“Shadow, Your Excellency.”

“Your real name! Raise your head and answer properly!”

Ram complied, raising his head.

Archbishop Aikop, his face wrinkled and his expression stubborn, was glaring down at him.

Ram answered submissively.

“My name is Shadow. I have no name prior to that. Stuga is the name given to me by the Gerans’ Chieftain, and in the Gerans’ language, it means the same—Shadow.”

“This insolent wretch dares…!”

As Archbishop Aikop tried to press further, the king waved his hand to silence him.

“His name is of no importance.”

The king gestured, and one of the attendants holding a plate stepped forward.

On the plate was a single piece of cheese, and the king picked it up with a fork, eating it in one bite.

The attendant stood motionless until the king set down his fork. Then, as if his sole purpose had been to retrieve the utensil, he stepped back and placed the plate on a small table.

Meanwhile, Count Badio whispered something to Archbishop Aikop, but Ram heard it all.

“Let me handle this. Will that be acceptable?”

The archbishop answered by stepping back.

Count Badio spoke.

“I hear you were a slave. Is that correct?”

Ram recalled General Terrdin’s advice and replied honestly.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“I also heard you came following a boy named Zenri, the son of Ashua Selkon, the lord of Raorn. Is that true?”

“Yes, that is true.”

“And I heard you killed the king of the barbarians. Is that true?”

“Yes, that is true.”

When Ram answered almost immediately, Badio seemed momentarily at a loss for words, pausing awkwardly.

The other officials began to murmur among themselves.

“You killed him? With your own hands?”

Badio asked again for confirmation.

“Yes.”

“The barbarian king?”

“Specifically, Mantum.”

Archbishop Aikop, who was standing nearby, interrupted.

“Mantum? What is that?”

“The barbarians have no king. There are many tribes, each led by a chief. Among them, there’s a chieftain who leads the chiefs. And among those….”

“Enough.”

The king waved his hand in annoyance.

For the first time, he spoke directly.

“So, you’re saying it’s true that you killed the barbarian king?”

“Yes.”

“What reward did Terrdin offer you?”

“…He promised to free me from my slave status.”

The king laughed.

“Something worthy of a castle, and he let it slide with such a small reward?”

“That was my request….”

“I’ll ask you something. If you hesitate to answer, I’ll have your head removed here and now.”

The king rose from his iron throne.

All the officials took a step back in unison.

The king unsheathed his sword.

Archbishop Aikop retreated to the farthest corner of the tent.

Even Badio hesitated and stepped back.

The king rested the heavy blade on Ram’s neck.

The cold metal against his skin made his hair stand on end instinctively.

Ram did not resist, merely bowing his head.

“Now, can you kill me in this state?”

Ram knew that telling the truth in such situations often led to worse outcomes.

“No one in this tent can kill Your Majesty.”

“Then it seems you must die.”

Without warning, the king raised his sword and swung it at Ram’s neck.

Ram held his breath, waiting for his head to roll to the ground.

He had heard that even after being decapitated, one could see for a few seconds, and the thought of such a horrifying sight terrified him.

But that didn’t happen.

The blade grazed his skin, drawing blood that trickled down his neck, but his head remained intact.

The king chuckled.

“I see your loyalty and fear. But this isn’t an answer to my question. I’ll ask again. Can you kill me?”

“I cannot.”

“Even if I order you to?”

“I was taught to ignore such orders.”

“Then let me rephrase the question. Raise your head.”

Ram lifted his head.

The king, seated back on the iron throne, placed the tip of his sword against the ground and donned his helmet.

He looked more imposing than Mantum on the battlefield.

“If I were not the king, but an enemy commander wearing armor like this and holding a sword like this, could you kill me?”

“That would depend on the conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“I would need proof that the person is indeed an enemy commander.”

“Proof?”

“I cannot risk killing the wrong person by mistake.”

“How complicated. Fine, let’s say you have proof. The person is definitely an enemy commander. What else would you need?”

“A weapon.”

“Of course. What kind of weapon?”

Ram glanced around, then pointed to the fork the attendant had placed down earlier.

“A blade about the size of that fork.”

“Not a larger sword?”

“For such armor, the thinner, the better. A pointed tool would be ideal.”

“What would you do with it?”

“Judging by the armor, there’s no chainmail covering the neck. In that case….”

Ram tried to avoid saying, ‘Your Majesty’s helmet and armor.’

“…if the armor were as Your Majesty described, I would drive a pointed tool between the helmet and armor.”

“What if there were chainmail?”

“Then I’d aim for the gap in the helmet. Even a stab to the eye can be fatal in most cases. So, a thin, long weapon would be better.”

“Do you think I’d let you do that?”

“That’s why it must be done without notice.”

“How would you manage that?”

“I’d move quietly.”

The king gestured toward one of the attendants holding the plate.

“Take that fork and kill this boy. Just as you described.”

“You want me to kill him for real?”

Ram asked.

The boy, who had been standing calmly, suddenly realized what the order meant and widened his eyes in shock.

The king burst into laughter.

“It’d be nice if you stopped just before. He’s a cherished one.”

Ram remained kneeling, motionless.

It was questionable whether I should really do this.

And I wondered why I was being told to do it.

No, if the wizard’s words were true, the reason for this command was clear.

Then there was no need to do it well.

Ram walked forward, picked up the fork, and pressed it to the attendant’s neck.

The attendant froze in fear, and after a moment, Ram returned the fork to him.

The attendant took it back with a terrified expression.

“I have done as you instructed.”

Ram bowed his head.

“Is that all you’ve done?”

“Any further… must I do more? In that case, I would have no choice but to kill the attendant.”

Ram had pressed the fork to the attendant’s neck just moments ago.

If he pushed one finger’s width deeper, the other person would die.

He couldn’t think of what else to demonstrate.

A knight standing beside the king carefully observed Ram’s actions and then whispered to the king.

Though Ram kept his head lowered, he could tell the knight approached the king, whispered to him, and heard what he said.

“By his movements and wrist motions, he indeed wields a sword. But since he deliberately minimized his movements, I cannot offer further judgment.”

The knight’s assessment was precise.

Ram had made his movements smaller.

There was no reason to exaggerate them.

The king exhaled through his nose.

“Fine. So, that’s how it’s going to be?”

The king spoke indifferently.

When Ram first entered, his tone had been curious, but now it was filled with disappointment.

“You may go.”

At the king’s command, Ram left the tent as ordered.

Voices murmuring behind him reached his ears.

Most were repeating questions like, “That boy killed Mantum?”, “Really?”, and “Why didn’t General Terrdin mention this?”

Ram couldn’t make sense of the situation.

What had Kura meant by his words?

Why had he even come to share such things?

It felt as though the matter wouldn’t end here.

Ram couldn’t rest even after returning to his tent.

At any moment, Kura might come to ask about his conversation with the king.

Or perhaps a royal knight would arrive, commanding him to meet the king again.

Ram spent the night nearly sleepless.

As soon as dawn broke, he went to find Terrdin.

He wanted to relay what had happened the previous day.

However, the general was already in a meeting with the king at dawn.

It included the same officials from the previous night, along with Archbishop Aikop and Count Badio.

It wasn’t a setting where he could linger and wait.

Ram returned to his original task, standing guard near Jedric’s tent.

He thought he’d get an opportunity by lunchtime, but when he went back, the general was still in a meeting, eating his meal during it.

Whenever Terrdin wasn’t in a meeting, he was always accompanied by royal knights or Count Badio.

Otherwise, Archbishop Aikop was with him.

It was only natural for people to flock around the general who had led the war to victory, but from Ram’s perspective, it felt as though they were deliberately preventing him from meeting the general.

Another night passed, and Ram had no choice but to postpone their meeting again.

Meanwhile, Ram guarded the area around Jedric’s tent whenever he had spare time.

The soldiers of the allied camp strictly followed the order not to touch the Gerans’ chieftain.

In fact, they didn’t even approach the area, making thorough vigilance unnecessary.

But the situation changed once the king’s soldiers arrived.

They strayed from their designated zones, wandering near Jedric’s tent, claiming they wanted to see the “barbarian king.”

The guards raised their spears menacingly at such times, but Terrdin’s authority didn’t work on the king’s soldiers.

Conflicts even broke out between the two groups of soldiers.

If those clashes escalated, Jedric could be in danger.

Ram remained constantly vigilant, even at night.

Some soldiers exploited the darkness to sneak closer and catch a glimpse of Jedric.

The knight who appeared this time seemed to be one of them.

But he wasn’t just any soldier.

He was one of the king’s royal knights.

It wasn’t the same knight who had come to fetch Ram the previous day.

This one was more intimidating, his gaze fiercer.

From his demeanor alone, Ram could tell this knight held a higher rank.

Ram soon remembered that this was the knight who had stood right beside the king in the tent the previous day.

“He’s the one who analyzed my movements and reported them to the king.”

Although two other guards were present, Ram still felt uneasy.

If the royal knight insisted on seeing Jedric no matter what, Ram didn’t know how he could stop him.

It might even come down to force, which could lead to a fight.

It wasn’t a question of whether he could win but whether he should fight at all.

Ram couldn’t make a decision.

“It would be nice to consult General Terrdin.”

The two guards belatedly recognized the royal knight and saluted.

“Captain Clave of the Royal Guard. What brings you here at this late hour?”

Clave merely nodded at the guards and approached Ram directly.

He stepped so close that his heavy armor nearly pressed against Ram’s face.

“Follow me.”

“What is this about?”

Ram asked politely.

“It’s an order.”

“Whose order?”

“Don’t ask questions. If I’m here giving you orders, it’s obviously the king’s command. Stop talking and follow.”

Clave’s harsh tone left no room for argument.

The guards even nudged Ram forward.

“Go on. Leave this to us.”

Reluctantly, Ram complied, apologizing as he left.

“Sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

Clave was already walking away into the darkness.

Ram thought they were heading to the king’s tent again, but Clave led him far beyond the allied camp, into a grassy plain.

No one else was around.

The darkness was so thick that without moonlight, nothing would have been visible.

There, Clave drew his sword.

He wasn’t alone.

Three others emerged from the bushes.

Ram could tell by the sound.

As Clave unsheathed his sword, they simultaneously drew theirs.

“What is this about?”

Ram asked.

Clave didn’t answer, instead swinging his sword.

It was a swift, sharp attack.

His skill surpassed that of Boti, the swordsmanship instructor Terrdin had assigned to Ram.

Clave’s precision was comparable to that of knights who had honed their skills in real battles.

The three from the bushes coordinated their movements, surrounding Ram in an instant.

Facing four opponents at once, Ram had no choice but to draw his sword.

Escaping seemed futile.

The presence of horses nearby suggested they had prepared for pursuit.

He would be quickly caught, and if they attacked on horseback, evasion would be even harder.

It was all Ram could do to fend off their attacks and avoid being completely surrounded.

But the royal guards continuously tried to encircle him.

Each time, Ram had to dart sideways or retreat, constantly repositioning himself.

“There’s one more.”

Though completely hidden in the darkness, Ram sensed the presence of a fifth person.

There were no footsteps or rustling clothes, only the sound of breathing.

“The king.”

Since these were royal knights, it wasn’t strange for the king to be with them.

But in this situation, his presence felt out of place.

“Is he testing me? Like how Baron Selkon had me aim at Zenri’s neck?”

But this wasn’t a mere test.

They were targeting Ram’s vital points with deadly intent.

Something was off.

Why were they doing this?

Was this punishment for failing to meet the king’s demands yesterday?

Would such failure warrant death?

Perhaps it could.

That’s how kings are.

But in that case, a single command for execution would suffice.

If the king ordered it, Ram would bow his head without resistance, and the executioner would simply bring down their axe.

Why drag him to such a place to kill him like this?

Confusion filled Ram’s mind.

He couldn’t figure out what to do.

He wanted to say something to stop the royal knights, but he didn’t know what to say.

He wanted to at least know the reason, but the words wouldn’t come.

There seemed to be no way out of this situation.

“Am I just supposed to die?”

There was one way.

It was so obvious that even after considering it, he had to ponder, “Is this really acceptable?”

Ram flipped his sword, crouching low as if to dive into the bushes.

In a place like this, illuminated only by moonlight, disappearing wasn’t too difficult.

Even if they were watching, he could vanish.

The wind muffled sounds, and the darkness provided ample cover.

Ram hesitated again.

Could he really do this?

These were royal knights, including their captain.

They outranked all but the commanders in the allied camp.

Was it truly permissible to target them?

When standing above the bushes, his answer had been “no.”

But the moment he hid beneath the foliage, his dormant assassin instincts awakened, and the answer changed to “yes.”

The only way to survive this moment.

Kill all four of them.