Shadow's Oath

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 57: Confession (2)

‘Luck finds you in unexpected ways, doesn’t it?’

Aikob was sitting alone in his cramped barracks, contemplating two pressing matters after sending away the slave boy.

The first was how to deal with Claive.

It could turn out to be surprisingly simple, or it might become unexpectedly complicated.

First of all, Claive likely hadn’t reported the confession to the king.

Would he have gone to the king and said, “Your Grace, I asked the Archbishop if I could kill that slave boy, and he told me to kill Terdin as well. By the way, can I take a brief trip to a barbarian village?”

No, of course not.

His pride wouldn’t have allowed it.

He wouldn’t have consulted anyone before setting out to kill the slave in a fit of rage.

Therefore, Claive’s death would likely be dismissed as “an impulsive act of jealousy and vengeance that backfired.”

That could be left alone.

However, the location of his death could be problematic.

A knight highly valued by King Gallant had died in a barbarian village... This wasn’t a simple matter.

Witnesses or evidence could complicate the situation.

King Gallant might personally come here to investigate.

If Aikob’s name came up, that would be troublesome.

The second concern was how to take possession of the slave boy.

This wasn’t simple either.

Even though Aikob held the dual authority of Archbishop and Chancellor, taking someone who was under the shadow of General Terdin and Prince Damion wouldn’t be easy.

And this tied into the first concern: if it came to light that the boy had killed Claive, Gallant would act without hesitation to eliminate him.

Especially considering the assassination of Terdin, this matter was already entangled.

When faced with troublesome issues, King Gallant preferred immediate resolutions over prolonged entanglement.

‘A talent I cannot possess is a threat... Execute them…’

Gallant would undoubtedly think this way.

‘Dealing with Claive and obtaining the slave boy! Each task alone might be manageable, but handling both simultaneously won’t be easy.’

While Aikob was deep in thought, Rusef appeared, bringing along his younger sister.

“Greetings to the Archbishop.”

Rusef greeted him respectfully from outside the barracks and then bowed politely again upon entering.

However, his sister barely managed a half-hearted nod of acknowledgment.

‘Charlon Vormont, a child I don’t like.’

When King Gallant had chosen Lady Vormont as his fiancée from a strategic perspective, Aikob had supported the decision.

But had he seen her face first, he would have opposed it.

She was far too beautiful to be the wife of the prince, the future ruler of the northern lands.

Inevitably, the prince would neglect state affairs, ensnared by her beauty.

‘A woman, especially a beautiful one, always distracts a man from his work.’

Considering the Duke of Vormont’s striking appearance, it wasn’t surprising that all his children were beautiful.

Even Rusef, upon first being taken as a hostage to the royal court, had women swarming around him.

Noblewomen, royals, palace maids—it didn’t matter.

Unmarried maidens and even married women flocked to the palace just to catch a glimpse of him.

“Come in, Rusef. You’re always welcome.”

Deeming Rusef a valuable asset for future use, Aikob had treated him well.

He had even listened attentively to Rusef’s confessions, full of struggles in this foreign land.

Before long, Rusef had become a devout follower who visited the chapel every Sunday.

“This is my younger sister, Charlon. I meant to introduce her earlier, but various matters delayed us.”

Rusef spoke politely.

“Pleased to meet you, Archbishop Aikob.”

Charlon curtsied gracefully.

“Welcome, Lady Charlon. You must be weary after staying in the barbarian village yesterday. Shouldn’t you rest a bit more?”

“Well...”

Charlon hesitated.

Rusef shot her a prompting look, but she remained silent, her eyes full of hesitation.

‘She’s still young, but look at her. When she grows older, how many men will she captivate?’

Her appearance was unpolished—her hair unkempt, her face unwashed.

What would she look like when she was fully dressed and groomed?

What if she became one of his regular confessors?

What if she stayed in the capital and came to confession every week?

If he spent enough time alone with her, she’d surely try to tempt him.

He’d struggle to resist, but eventually, he’d have to subdue her wicked desires with physical discipline.

Only the blessing of the flesh could suppress a woman’s sinful lust.

“My sister has come to make a confession.”

Rusef said, breaking Aikob’s train of thought.

Quickly regaining his composure, Aikob replied,

“A confession?”

He carefully kept his tone from sounding too eager.

“But doesn’t the Church of Born differ from ours?”

Charlon avoided Aikob’s gaze, leaving Rusef to explain.

“Yes, that’s true. She didn’t want to at first, but I persuaded her. After all, even with a man of the cloth, a young woman may feel uneasy being alone with him.”

“That’s entirely understandable and appropriate,”

Aikob replied kindly, making it easier for Rusef to continue.

“So I thought I’d stay and let her seek counseling instead of a formal confession.”

“Of course. Counseling is primarily what I provide. Go ahead, Lady Charlon.”

Charlon hesitated again, so Rusef spoke for her.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

“My sister claims she heard a witch’s prophecy in the barbarian village. At first, she wouldn’t even tell me the truth. I only found out through my knights’ reports.”

Finally, Charlon spoke up.

“I only listened to the hag. I never said I’d act on it.”

‘Her voice is lovely too. Just as her brother’s voice charmed the court ladies, hers will surely captivate men.’

Just her presence in the chapel could double the donations, Aikob mused.

“A hag, you say?”

“That’s what they call witches there,”

Rusef explained.

“And what did the hag say?”

Charlon surprised them by speaking clearly, her refined voice deliberate and steady.

“She read omens about me, the prince, and... Chief Jedrick. She said a volcanic eruption would occur, and shortly after, it did. She called it a sign.”

Charlon quickly added, as if justifying herself,

“It was just for fun. Even in Born, we sometimes visit witches or fortune-tellers, but we never take them seriously.”

It was as though she was confessing to heresy, but Aikob didn’t point it out.

“Even as a joke, such practices aren’t advisable. Still, curiosity at your age is understandable. So, what was the omen?”

“She said there’s an ancient cave about an hour north of here—a temple dedicated to a god called Iktaron. We must burn enchanted powder there, drink each other’s blood, and pledge not to harm one another to avoid a coming calamity.”

“What calamity?”

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

"Malalu... No, was it Malarhatu? It was a prophecy that the Serpent of the End would descend upon the world and bring about its destruction."

Aikob chuckled lightly.

"Classic. These so-called prophecies by witches often sound like that, don’t they?"

Rusef spoke with concern.

"But it is something to be cautious about, nonetheless. I believe that even if it’s just the words of a witch, if such things have been spoken, they should at least be acted upon."

"Oh, even someone as devout as you, Rusef, thinks so?"

"Isn’t it natural? If I hadn’t heard it at all, I wouldn’t be bothered, but once you hear such things, it’s hard not to think about them. The best way to put such thoughts to rest is to act on them. After all, it’s surely just superstitious nonsense. The world runs according to the will of God, and it’s impossible for some pagan prophecy to come true."

"An interesting perspective. What does Lady Charlon think?"

Charlon responded immediately.

"The prince said he would not act upon it. And I will follow his decision."

The blossoming sixteen-year-old girl firmly expressed her resolve with tightly closed lips.

How sweet would it be if those beautiful lips confessed love?

How many men would lose themselves over a few words from her?

What a fortune it was to have her come to this tent for confession.

Aikob calculated how to handle this fortune that had come so easily.

‘God always gives hints. It is up to us humans to interpret them, and I am the best at that.’

Aikob smiled inwardly while maintaining a serious demeanor outwardly.

"Rusef is right, and so is Prince Damion. According to doctrine, the prince’s words align more closely with reason. But wasn’t there already talk of a royal duel?"

Charlon nodded with a worried expression.

"Yes, it almost happened. But the prince bravely refused it."

"I heard the barbarians were angered by the prince’s refusal. What was your impression of the situation?"

"It wasn’t a good atmosphere."

"Yes, I can imagine."

"Then, Your Grace, do you mean..."

Charlon began to ask, but Aikob corrected her title for him.

"You should address me as Archbishop."

"Yes... Do you mean the archbishop believes the prince should have accepted the duel?"

"Not at all. What I mean is that we must show them that above their superstition stands the word of God."

Aikob paused as if preparing a lengthy theological explanation.

In truth, he was busy calculating something else and deliberately drew out his words.

"When our faith first came to pagan lands, the word of God did not reach all ears at once. Each time, it had to be proven that the word of God stood above the wicked sorceries of other pagan deities. Thus, the false gods of the pagans disappeared, leaving only the word of our God. The same will happen here."

Having finished his calculations, Aikob seamlessly continued his speech.

"I will go to that pagan temple with you."

"You will go? Together?"

Charlon’s tone showed discomfort at the word "together."

Aikob was unfazed.

"I will go in person to oversee whatever the witch has instructed. As Rusef said, nothing will happen anyway. And how will this appear to these barbarians? They will see that the power of God’s representative is greater. We need only repeat this a few times. Gradually, the position of their false god will vanish, and the one true God will claim His place in this land."

Rusef’s face brightened.

"Your Grace joining us—it’s the most reassuring thing possible."

With a benevolent smile, Aikob turned to Charlon.

"What do you think, Lady Charlon?"

Charlon avoided his gaze, looking flustered.

"I will seek the prince’s counsel."

"That’s appropriate. Let us go together."

Aikob gave thanks for the fortune that had come his way so easily.

‘Things are unfolding so smoothly.’

Following the prince to the pagan temple, destroying the place the witch mentioned, and spurring the prince’s faith further would extend Aikob’s influence into the lands the prince would govern.

Then, he would bring up the matter of Claive to the prince.

To save Stuga from execution, the prince would have no choice but to let Aikob take him in.

What about Teredin?

Likely the same.

There wouldn’t be much resistance.

He would convince King Gallant that Stuga couldn’t be executed due to his connection to the pagan temple issue.

To Stuga, he would whisper that if he wanted to live, he’d have to kill Teredin...

In the process, the issue of Claive would naturally fade away.

He would let things lie as they were.

While King Gallant always sought immediate solutions, Aikob’s method was to postpone issues.

And Aikob always won.

‘But what about Charlon?’

Two problems he had initially worried about were already resolved in Aikob’s mind.

So he began pondering how to handle the rest.

‘It’s a waste to leave her in these northern lands. She should be closer to my sanctuary, in the capital.’

Suppressing the urge to stroke Charlon’s beautiful hair, Aikob made up his mind.

‘Wouldn’t it be fitting for her to marry the first prince, Lamuel, rather than Damion?’

Aikob recalled how King Gallant was still troubled by Lamuel’s marriage prospects.

Lamuel would be persuaded at the sight of Charlon’s beauty, and the Duke of Vormont would have no reason to refuse, as his daughter’s suitor would be elevated from the second prince to the first.

Naturally, the king would choose Charlon to resolve his concerns.

‘As the queen of Triton, it wouldn’t seem strange for her to meet with me, the chancellor and archbishop, alone.’

[TL/N: what a creep bruh wtf??]

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]