Shadow's Oath-Chapter 89
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Chapter 89: Olga’s Trial (2)
Right after Charlon appeared, Ram witnessed the entire plaza gradually sinking into silence, and he was inwardly surprised.
‘What’s going on? The madness of a crowd doesn’t subside this easily.’
From the Geronians of Elum Village to the royal knights and ordinary soldiers, everyone gathered in the plaza had been excited long before the trial had even begun.
It was something Ram had experienced multiple times in Laorn.
Just looking at the plazas and taverns, it was common for a fight that started at one table to spread to another.
Burning a witch?
It was an event that no one could remain indifferent to.
The heat of the flames consuming a living person also burned into the minds of the spectators.
After it was over, people would forget why they had been so enthusiastic, why they had rejoiced at someone’s death.
And then they would wait for the next execution.
The fervor of the North was no different.
Jedrick had been standing close to Damion, diligently relaying the details of the trial.
But his true purpose was not to accurately convey the proceedings—it was to hide his own nervousness.
Even Damion, who always sat upright, was now slouching slightly, an unusual posture for him.
But the moment Charlon appeared, both men abandoned all attempts to maintain their composure.
They jumped to their feet and rushed toward the center of the plaza.
Even Terdin took a step forward the moment he saw Charlon.
However, upon seeing Ram following, he chose not to advance any further.
Ram ran alongside Damion toward Charlon.
No—he left Damion behind and ran to protect Charlon instead.
The knights rushed toward the prince, forming a circle around him.
They slammed their shields into the ground, constructing a makeshift wall of defense.
If, by any chance, a riot broke out—if the Geronians forgot the reason this trial was taking place and turned on the prince—the knights were ready to turn the plaza into a bloodbath without hesitation.
But there was no need for that.
Even the Geronians, caught up in their fervor, fell silent at Charlon’s unexpected appearance.
Only Miela and Ikarum stood in front of the knights’ shield wall.
They did not heed the knights’ orders to retreat.
Not out of defiance, but because they, too, were too stunned by Charlon’s sudden appearance to move.
Charlon knelt beside the fallen Olga, reaching out to take her hand and help her up.
Olga sat up, but remained on her knees.
Her face, covered in blood and sweat, was more than half-covered in dirt.
“Olga, tell me.”
Charlon clasped Olga’s hand and leaned in close, their faces nearly touching.
“Did you really plan to kill the prince and me?”
It was a question that could only come from someone who had not heard the details of the trial.
But at the same time, it was something Charlon needed to hear from Olga’s own lips—something she needed to hear spoken sincerely.
“Charlon! What are you doing?”
A distant voice called out—Rusef.
The knights surrounding the prince were on the highest alert, blocking even Rusef’s approach.
Damion gestured with his hand, then mouthed the words, ‘Wait there.’
Rusef stopped, his face a mix of fear and fury.
He had always despised being near Geronians, yet now he seemed to have forgotten the fact that he was surrounded by them.
“I never intended to kill him,”
Olga said faintly, a small smile appearing on her face.
“But I did intend to use him.”
“How?”
Charlon asked.
“I wanted to destroy this village. The entire Geronian settlement that drove Adian to his death—I wanted to annihilate them all. The Geronians, who turned Adian, a man who hated war and longed for peace, into a harbinger of destruction—I wanted to drag them all into hell.”
“You really thought the prince would go that far? You thought he would set fire to this village?”
Charlon gestured toward the scene.
“Look—he isn’t burning this village down. He’s executing you as part of a deal to spare it.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Olga asked, testing her.
“Miela will kill me as the price for loving Adian. Ikarum will sacrifice me to save the village. So then—was Halles wrong for trying to kill the prince? He, too, was trying to protect his village. He wanted to preserve the pride and dignity of the Geronians. But in the end, that arrogance will set the North ablaze.”
“Who exactly do you think is setting the fire?”
At some point, Olga had picked up a tiny pebble from the dirt.
It was smaller than a fingernail.
“Do you remember? A single pebble…”
She dropped it in front of Charlon.
Plop.
“…can change the ripples.”
Charlon shook her head.
“Stop, Olga. No more riddles—just tell me the truth.”
“I am telling the truth, as I know it.”
“The prophecy you gave us—was that true? Or was it just a lie to send us to the Iktaron temple?”
Olga’s voice was growing weaker with exhaustion.
“I told the truth, as I knew it…”
“I saw a shadowy figure in the cave. Was that your curse? Or was it the death magic of the Tagda tribe’s Hak? Or was it a vengeful spirit guarding the temple? Or…”
“I don’t know. I didn’t foresee what you saw. I only sent the three of you to the temple.”
Ram flinched.
‘Why did she say three of us?’
It could have been a simple mistake.
Olga was barely able to sit upright, let alone count properly.
But she had said three people while looking directly at him.
It wasn’t a mistake.
‘She left me out.’
Ram was sure of it.
‘Olga never counted me. Even when I appeared at her home. As if I didn’t exist. As if I wasn’t supposed to exist.’
“It could have been a vengeful spirit. Or perhaps a fairy protecting you.”
A fairy?
Ram didn’t understand why Olga suddenly mentioned that.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
“How far did Rune see into the future?”
“Using Rune’s words to send you to the temple was true. But beyond that, I didn’t look. I didn’t need to.”
“Then look now. See beyond.”
Charlon’s voice was insistent, almost desperate.
But the strain was evident on her face.
Olga looked at her pained expression, then shifted her gaze downward.
“You’re injured. Does it hurt?”
“It does.”
“In my room, on the innermost bookshelf, the third shelf—there’s a vial of black liquid. It smells like violets and burnt charcoal. Drink it. It’ll make you very sleepy. But when you wake up, you’ll feel refreshed.”
“……How do you know where I’m hurt?”
“What does it matter whether I know or not? You won’t drink it anyway.”
“You keep speaking in riddles. That’s not what I want.”
“I can’t do anything without Rune…”
Ram reached for the pouch at his waist, the one holding Rune’s stone.
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He had carried it since the previous day.
He had used the red powder from it, but had never once thought to discard the stone.
Not even during the chaos of the previous night.
Olga looked up at him in shock.
Then she turned to Damion.
“Miela won’t allow this…”
“Do it,”
Damion said.
“Have you forgotten what I said earlier, Prince?”
“I haven’t. But do it. If you want to.”
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“That’s an odd condition. If I want to, I can, and if I don’t, I don’t have to?”
“Yes.”
“If you ordered me, I would have refused. But now I have no excuse.”
Olga picked up the Rune pouch.
Just then, Miela screamed.
“She’s using magic!”
Ikarum rushed toward the prince.
“Stop her! That woman might curse the conqueror!”
The knights raised their swords and shields against him.
And the villagers surged forward.
Damion shouted, and Jedrick translated even louder.
Soon, the villagers fell silent.
Ram didn’t think it was because they accepted Damion’s command or reasoning.
Jedrick suppressed them.
His voice had more restraining power than the shields of dozens of knights.
Olga waited for a moment.
Damion gave her a nod of approval once again.
“I can do it only once. The atmosphere is tense, and I don’t have much time left. Choose your question carefully.”
Olga took a rune stone out of her pouch.
Charlon looked up at Damion.
Damion nodded, signaling him to proceed.
Charlon then turned to Jedrick, who also gave her a nod of approval.
Ram had no need to nod.
Since Charlon had started this, she had to finish it.
“You made a prophecy about us. For me, it was about a curse, division, and the North. And then, death.”
Charlon kept her words vague because there were many listeners.
However, the other three already knew exactly what she meant.
Charlon had been born with a curse.
Her fate, which was supposed to be singular, had split into two, meaning one had to die.
She had come north to survive, but the prophecy said she would flee south again, only to be killed by her own kin.
“And for the prince, you said ‘the second, false love, and a storm of blood.’”
The prophecy foretold that Damion, born as the second child, would always remain second.
Unable to endure the resentment of the firstborn, he would flee.
Though he wished for the North to be his settlement, the South would become his grave.
He would never attain true love, always chasing false affections, and wherever he stepped, a storm of blood would follow.
He would never find peace.
“And for Jeje, you spoke of the ancient god.”
The prophecy claimed that the soul of the ancient god Akamantum resided within Jedrick and that he was the true ruler who would unite the Gerons.
“Is all of that true?”
“The interpretation of runes is always free. Interpretations are always flawed. If someone throws a stone, the ripples it creates will always change depending on where it lands. I don’t know what kind of ripples the three of you created in the temple yesterday. If you’ve found the answers, it’s actually me who should be asking.”
Olga spoke to the three as if they were children.
Except for Ram.
“So, I must read how the ripples you created have changed.”
Olga cast the runes.
It felt like going back two days.
Three children and Olga sat at a table... and still, Ram was not allowed to sit.
Olga cast nine runes, three for each.
Even in this divination, Ram was excluded.
He was afraid.
Not because of the isolation.
But because he felt as if he wasn’t even being treated as a person.
Olga looked down at where the runes had fallen and spoke.
“The ripples are too great. The clear water is now filled with murky dust. At this point, I should refuse to read the prophecy until it settles.”
Olga turned to Damion and asked,
“Do you remember what I told you, Damion?”
Damion didn’t seem to realize that Olga was treating him like a child.
“If the catastrophe of fate rushes toward me like a tidal wave, I will rise above it with my will. You will witness me overcoming it.”
Olga smiled.
“I won’t be around to see it, but I truly hope so.”
Then, she began reading the prophecy.
“The curse of the ancient gods shall begin. The three of you will suffer painful deaths under the curses of three ancient gods.”
Her voice became terrifying.
The sudden change startled the three, and Ram instinctively gripped the sword at his waist.
Even the knights guarding their backs turned around in alarm.
“The red snake of the Red Pond will devour the first child.”
She looked at Jedrick.
“The white snake of the White Forest will devour the second child.”
She looked at Charlon.
“The black snake of the Black Water will devour the third child.”
Finally, she looked at Damion.
Miela screamed.
“Hag is casting a spell! Stop her!”
Ikarum ran up to the knights and shouted.
“Stop the spell!”
The knights, not understanding the Geron language, had no idea what Ikarum and Miela were warning about.
Instead, they pushed them back angrily.
“Step aside, you barbarian scum!”
“You want to die, you bastard?”
Ikarum likely didn’t understand their words either.
His extreme reaction was due to Olga’s tone and the eerie atmosphere.
Her ominous voice seemed to echo through the entire square.
“Tanu will summon Malarhatu,
Malarhatu will devour the three serpents,
And all the world’s shadows will be consumed.
Everything will end.”
Olga suddenly collapsed as if all her strength had left her.
Charlon, alarmed, grabbed her hand, and Damion and Jedrick rushed forward to support her back.
The three children simultaneously looked down at the dying Hag.
Damion spoke.
“I can no longer protect you. If you have any last wishes, speak.”
Olga smiled faintly and, this time, addressed the prince with formal respect.
“I have two requests.”
“Speak.”
“Grant me mercy with a swift death.”
“And the second?”
“Remember my words.”
“What words?”
“Don’t try to win... Use it. It is my final gift.”
Damion did not seem to understand.
He simply acknowledged her words.
Ram, too, did not comprehend.
“Understood.”
Damion slowly laid Olga down and turned to Ram.
“Stuga.”
“Yes, my prince.”
“Do as Olga wished.”
Ram approached Olga and unsheathed his sword.
A simple, ordinary longsword he always carried.
Maraka’s dagger would have been more convenient, but he didn’t want a sorcerer’s knife to touch her body.
The three children stepped back.
The final moment belonged to only Ram and Olga.
Ikarum shouted,
“Do not kill her with a blade! A Hag must be burned!”
Ram ignored him.
Once she was dead, it didn’t matter whether they burned her or not.
“I will guide you to the most painless death I know.”
Ram spoke.
“You ask no questions.”
Olga’s voice was so faint it was barely audible.
Perhaps she knew of Ram’s keen hearing and spoke that way on purpose.
“Why didn’t you count me?”
Surprisingly, Olga answered.
“Shadows aren’t counted. If three people stand together, you don’t count their shadows and say there are six, do you?”
Olga smiled and closed her eyes.
“End it.”
Ram pressed down gently on her shoulder and slit her throat.
Blood gushed out.
He let it flow freely.
Olga convulsed briefly in pain but soon settled.
She exhaled her final breath and fell into eternal sleep.
Ram closed her eyes.
Soon, they would open again, but for now, he wanted to let them stay shut.
Damion waited until everything was finished before speaking to Ikarum.
“I respect your council’s decision, but the method of execution was mine to decide. Burn the corpse if that is your will.”
As soon as Jedrick finished translating, Ikarum, furious, shouted back.
“That is not respecting our judgment! If a Hag is not burned, her curse will plague the entire village!”
“If a Hag’s curse spreads, I, the conqueror, will be its first victim! If you lack the courage to bear the consequences, why sentence her at all?”
Jedrick conveyed Damion’s anger through translation, making it sound as if he himself was the one fuming.
Ikarum glared at his younger brother, and Jedrick did not look away.
“The trial is over. Disperse!”
Damion declared.
At that moment, an unexpected voice interrupted.
“It’s not over yet, my prince.”
It was Count Vadio.
Ram found his sudden appearance almost as absurd as if Baron Selken had shown up.
‘Slave, where is my son? Tell me now where my only son is.’
Damion, puzzled, asked,
“What do you mean it’s not over, Count Vadio?”
“The trial, my prince. There’s still one left.”
“Who?”
“The chieftain of these savages.”
Vadio pointed at Jedrick.
“Put him on trial as well. He led you into the temple. Prove that he is innocent.”
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