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Chapter 34: Elum
The carriage creaked as it climbed the hill leading to the village of Elum.
Charlon leaned out of the carriage, searching for someone who should have been nearby but was nowhere to be seen.
Damion called him "the shadow," while Jedrick referred to him as "Stuga."
If he seemed to be absent, he was always somewhere nearby; if he seemed present, he was suddenly gone.
Charlon poked her head out of the carriage entirely.
Looking back, she saw him.
Their eyes met, but he didn’t acknowledge her.
His expressionless gaze neither avoided her nor truly met hers.
‘He's a strange man, but not unpleasant.’
Whenever she was with the prince, he was always close by.
Inevitably, that meant he was often near her as well.
It wasn’t something she noticed at first, but over time she realized that Stuga showed her no consideration whatsoever.
She had always been surrounded by knights and attendants who treated her with forced courtesy.
She couldn’t even step out of a carriage alone; someone always had to help her down.
If she tried to sit on the ground, a handkerchief or cushion would instantly appear beneath her.
But Stuga never did any of that.
Even when she sat before Jedrick, he took no action—he didn’t offer his coat or bring a cushion.
The guards next to him were the ones to ask if they should fetch anything.
He did nothing.
Yet when he was around, things seemed to go surprisingly smoothly.
When she argued with her brother, she naturally found herself near Stuga.
When she encountered Jedrick outside his tent, the situation somehow unfolded effortlessly.
It wasn’t as though Stuga orchestrated these moments, but his presence seemed to make them happen.
It was mysterious.
‘A shadow…’
Her father had a bodyguard who stuck to him like a shadow.
The man claimed to protect and advise her father, but his constant presence was unsettling.
Even when Charlon spoke privately with her father, the man would linger, suddenly approaching to whisper something in her father’s ear.
She never knew what was said, but it always seemed sneaky and oppressive.
When Damion first introduced Stuga as "the shadow," those unpleasant memories surfaced, and she wished he’d stay away.
But Stuga acted as if he didn’t exist.
If she didn’t consciously notice him, it was easy to forget he was even there.
Just like a shadow.
And if she looked for him, he was already nearby—also just like a shadow.
If her father’s "advisors" were sticky, clinging mud, Damion’s shadow was like a clear, gentle spirit of air.
‘He’s General Terdin’s shadow, but the prince is borrowing him for now,’
She remembered.
‘I hope he stays with the prince. Then he’ll be my shadow too.’
The village of Elum was much smaller than Charlon had expected.
It was situated on a low hill rising from flat terrain.
Small, one-story wooden houses with low roofs clustered at the base, while larger buildings with higher roofs sat at the top of the hill.
The prince’s entourage, including the carriage, headed for the largest building at the summit.
Charlon easily inferred the layout of the village.
The poorer residents lived on the outskirts, while the wealthy and powerful resided higher up.
‘It’s the same everywhere.’
From a distance, she could hear Jedrick’s pleasant voice explaining the village.
He mentioned that a massive palisade once surrounded the outskirts but had been torn down by Triton soldiers.
The flat area halfway up the hill served as a public square for village assemblies.
The mention of village assemblies caught her interest.
“Are village assemblies where the residents gather to discuss matters?”
Damion asked.
“They’re mostly for trials, when someone is accused of theft or murder, the entire village gathers here to render judgment.”
“The chief doesn’t decide?”
“The chief presides over the trial. The accuser and the defendant present evidence and witnesses, appealing to the villagers. Then everyone votes by raising their hands, and the side with the most votes wins.”
Charlon found it fascinating that villagers decided guilt themselves.
“For property disputes, that’s how it’s done. But personal conflicts between two people might be settled through duels. As for murder, it’s not a simple majority vote—it has to be unanimous.”
Jedrick skipped further explanation and led the group past the square toward the top of the hill.
The steep incline of the path caused the carriage to tilt backward.
As the horses struggled to pull the carriage upward, a few soldiers pushed it from behind.
Charlon was growing increasingly frustrated.
"I can walk. I can run through the mountains and swim across rivers. A woman who only seeks comfort in a carriage cannot become the queen of the North."
The houses scattered along the path were all dilapidated.
Some were mere pits covered with makeshift roofs.
The more structurally sound homes were further up the hill, but even they were all wooden and lacked any sense of grandeur.
"I didn’t realize this place was so impoverished."
“How disappointing, don’t you think, my lady?”
Odel asked, misinterpreting Charlon’s frown.
She clicked her tongue and continued.
“To think you’ll have to live in a place like this! Of course, the prince could build a larger house or even a castle, but until then, you’ll have to endure staying here.”
Charlon hadn’t considered her living arrangements at all.
Her impression of the village wasn’t disappointment but pity.
Throughout her journey, she had heard countless times that “barbarians are violent and destructive.”
Barbarians were wolves, bears, and tigers.
Warriors blessed by the war god could keep fighting even with their bodies riddled with arrows, and some were said to move even after being decapitated.
The raiders of Geron occasionally traveled by ship to Born in southern Triton.
Born’s soldiers often fled without putting up much of a fight against Geron’s warriors.
When Triton’s king declared his intention to conquer the northern barbarians, the people of Born were even more enthusiastic than anyone else.
Charlon had also called them barbarians when she first arrived.
But after learning from the prince, she began using the term “Geron” instead.
Meeting Jedrick made her search for an even better word.
Odel continued to click her tongue and said,
“When I heard the Triton general won a war against the barbarian warriors called madmen, I thought it was impressive. But now I see it wasn’t such a big deal. They’re just poor, weak, and dirty people. That general probably doesn’t even feel proud of his victory. Don’t you think so, my lady?”
Charlon replied in a deliberately emotionless voice.
“Don’t say that, Odel. That man defeated our elite forces ten years ago. If you belittle someone like that, it only makes us look more pathetic.”
“Hmph, he only tricked our army with cowardly tactics to win. Impressive? Then he should’ve clashed head-on with our cavalry. Even young Lord Rusef fought at the forefront at his age. And what did that old Triterne do back then? Stood at the rear and ordered archers to shoot! The so-called bloodthirsty god of war is nothing but a coward who only knows how to fight dishonorably.”
‘That’s right. Just arrows. And our army fell endlessly to those arrows. The knights of Born, who only knew how to march forward relying on their heavy armor, were rendered powerless by arrows piercing through their armor.’
Odel continued to grumble.
“Look, my lady. Now that old general will squeeze this poor village dry. He’ll wring out these impoverished people to fatten their bloated king.”
“War is like that, Odel. For a hundred soldiers conducting a war here to eat, a hundred children they left behind must starve. The reason I can enjoy a comfortable life in Langborn’s castle is thanks to the gains from such wars and the sacrifices of farmers who die from starvation during the winter. If you’re going to pity someone, pity the people of our Born Duchy first. And I’ve come here to become this land’s queen. I will find a way to feed these people—not through plunder, but through other means.”
Charlon spoke with a warning.
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“And stop saying such things, Odel. Be careful not to let your complaints reach General Terdin or Prince Damion.”
“As you wish, my lady. This old woman’s voice has been ignored countless times, so I can stay silent as much as needed.”
Odel tightly pursed her wrinkled lips in stubborn silence.
The carriage soon stopped in front of a massive building atop a hill.
‘So this is the Grand Hall?’
According to Damion’s prior explanation, this was where the chieftain lived, the most important treasures were kept, significant matters were decided through meetings, and food was shared during festivals.
In other words, it was the palace of the Geron people.
As a single building, it was quite large, but it was on par with just one of the many buildings within the walls of Langborn Castle.
The dome-shaped ceiling, three times the height of a person, looked grand enough, but it couldn’t compare to the six towering spires of the Vormont family’s castle.
When a Born knight opened the carriage door, Prince Damion approached, extending his hand and waiting.
Charlon noticed ten Geron men standing by in front of the Grand Hall.
She hesitated, wondering if it was right to hold the prince’s hand and step down in front of them.
‘I am going to be the queen of the North. I want to show them that a warrior’s wife has arrived. I don’t want to appear as a weak woman who needs help stepping down from this height.’
However, she couldn’t refuse the prince’s hand.
Charlon descended gracefully from the carriage, relying on his hand.
The rustling dress was cumbersome.
Though the ground was neatly paved with bricks, she couldn’t avoid the hem of her skirt being dirtied with dust.
Charlon found herself standing next to the Geron men waiting in front of the hall.
They had looked big from inside the carriage, but standing before them now, they appeared even larger.
Despite wearing no armor or weapons, they were sufficiently intimidating.
Especially the red-haired young man, who resembled Jedrick but was taller and had a fiercer expression.
Standing next to him felt suffocating.
Even though Jedrick wasn’t short, he looked almost childlike in comparison.
The horned helmet he wore was smaller and less ornate than Jedrick’s but conveyed an unyielding defiance against their conquerors.
Jedrick bowed his head in greeting to the man.
‘The Grand Chieftain, Elhorn, is said to be a representative entrusted with authority by all the chieftains. But for Elhorn to bow to a chieftain…?’
To Charlon, it seemed as strange as an emperor bowing to the king of a single nation.
“Allow me to introduce my elder brother, Ikarum, the Ehodin of Elum and heir to Adian Mantum.”
Jedrick spoke with a formal tone, starkly different from when he spoke in private.
Ikarum nodded slightly at Prince Damion and said something in Geron.
Though it didn’t sound particularly respectful, Jedrick translated it as if Ikarum had used honorifics.
“Welcome, conqueror.”
Jedrick then gestured to Terdin and introduced him in Geron.
It was likely a formal introduction, as they must have already met.
“Hmph.”
Charlon let out a nasal sound without realizing it.
Whenever she noticed something, it came out instinctively.
Fortunately, Odel, who might’ve scolded her for such a habit, hadn’t stepped out of the carriage.
She wouldn’t dare approach a place filled with these “filthy and threatening” Geron men.
‘That Ikarum person doesn’t even make eye contact with General Terdin?’
The introductions of other chieftains from two additional villages and the elders followed.
Jedrick calmly recited their names and titles, maintaining an unchanging, neutral expression.
While his face revealed little emotion, Charlon could sense his discomfort.
‘To guide your conqueror to your village….’
With only snippets of knowledge Damion had shared, Charlon speculated on the relationship between Mantum’s two sons.
‘The elder brother, Ikarum, serves as Ehodin, the village chieftain, while the younger, Jedrick, is the Elhorn, the grand chieftain. Jedrick must have taken on the humiliation of surrender to protect his brother’s pride. It’s by no means a higher position.’
Suddenly, Charlon recalled something Jedrick had said during their first meeting.
“When you meet my brother Ikarum, you will realize that you cannot rule this place. We are a tribe that can be forced to surrender but can never be truly subjugated.”
Charlon had taken that statement not as a challenge to Damion but as one directed at herself.
‘Jedrick, you’ve already bowed your pride for necessity. To protect your brother’s pride, you bent your own. So your tribe, too, will bow its pride and accept governance when the need arises.’
When the introductions concluded, Ikarum stepped aside without so much as another nod to Prince Damion.
The older Geron men followed him, positioning themselves on either side of the entrance to the Grand Hall.
“They’re signaling us to go in first,”
Jedrick explained.
Damion stood before the hall’s door.
Charlon stood beside him, sensing his tension.
She quietly spoke to him.
“Don’t worry. I’m with you.”
When Damion took her hand quietly, Charlon naturally tightened her grip on his.
‘I always expected my betrothal to be arranged. I prepared myself to be married off to some old man from a powerful family. But to marry someone like him, this is a blessing.’
Damion was kind, considerate, handsome, and soon to be the ruler of the North.
Her heart should have been filled with joy.
Yet, oddly, it wasn’t.
‘I should be happy.’
Charlon repeated the thought like a spell as she stepped into the Grand Hall alongside Prince Damion.
‘I will be the queen of the North.’
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