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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Night]
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Chapter 43: Hag Olga (2)
‘This is bad,’
Damion thought, on high alert.
He had just realized, to his dismay, that he was being drawn to Olga without meaning to.
“I saw the forces of the Triton Kingdom advancing on this place, weighed the strength of the northern tribes, and witnessed the cowardly acts of the other tribes in elevating Adian Elhorn to Mantum. The situation was clearly one where defeat was inevitable. So, I simply shared my opinion: that we would lose,”
Olga explained.
Damion asked,
“Not ‘die,’ but ‘lose’?”
“Strictly speaking, I never predicted Adian’s death. I just said we would lose, but people turned it into ‘he will die.’”
“Then wouldn’t it have been better to give advice rather than a prophecy? If it were me, I would have listened to your advice.”
“When a hag speaks, it becomes a prophecy. If a mother says, ‘Be careful, you might catch a cold,’ it’s just nagging. But if a hag says it, it’s a curse. And when someone actually catches a cold the next day? They’ll say, ‘The hag cursed me!’”
It was a convincing explanation.
‘They say witches manipulate people by saying exactly what they want to hear. Looks like that’s what’s happening to me.’
Olga laid flat stones engraved with unreadable symbols on the table, arranging and shuffling them with movements that were neither mystical nor strange.
Then, in a serious voice, as if recreating a past reading, she said:
“The southern barbarians will overwhelm our forces, and the wind blessed by the northern ancient gods will fail to push back the wind summoned by the southern gods. The western sea will no longer sustain us, offering only death’s waves that will crash harshly against us...”
She started with an air of solemnity but ended in a flat tone.
“Well, something like that.”
“Did you say that in front of the Ehodin?”
Charlon asked.
She was already speaking the northern dialect with ease.
Olga shook her head.
“As I said earlier, I didn’t put it that way. But people interpret it like that. Although, Hak Maraka did say something similar.”
“What do you mean by ‘cowardly acts of the other tribes’?”
Damion asked.
“The so-called alliance of ten tribes didn’t bring their elite forces. Only about five tribes gave it their all. The rest hid behind Elum Village and Adian Mantum as their shields, planning to share in the victory if we won and flee if we lost. Either way, the Elum tribe would have exhausted all its strength.”
“Why didn’t you tell Mantum about this?”
“Adian is a smart man. He knew that much long before I did. Even so, he accepted the position of Mantum. That was his warrior’s pride. He knew that after this war, with the Elum tribe at the forefront, they would exhaust all their power, leaving the other tribes to consider taking over this village. But he couldn’t refuse the title of Mantum. For the Geron, this war was never fought with united strength. That’s why, as soon as Mantum fell, everyone scattered.”
Jedrick groaned softly.
Olga resumed shuffling the stones and placing them down one by one.
“This principle applies to all of you as well. The moment I heard Maraka utter his curse before the prince today, I knew he had already lost his role and was resorting to such measures out of guilt or self-destruction. So I said, ‘He found his path to death before taking responsibility.’ Did you find that mystical, Your Highness?”
“Hmm, not at all.”
“But if I had kept quiet and said nothing until you asked me about Maraka’s curse, I could have pretended to interpret these rune stones instead.”
Olga shuffled the stones, then coughed lightly and continued in a grim voice:
“‘Maraka’s curse will summon northern evil spirits, bringing curses and plagues upon us. A bloody wind will circle the head of the southern conqueror, dyeing everything red around him. Behold! The only way to overcome the curse of death is...’”
She interrupted herself dramatically, then pulled a random jar off the nearby shelf and shoved it toward the prince.
“...to take a spoonful of this dried herb extract three times a day after meals. The cost? Ten gold coins from the Triton Kingdom. Now, pay up.”
Charlon and Damion both burst into laughter.
Olga waved her hand with a smile.
“That’s what spells are. Don’t worry about Hak Maraka’s curse, Your Highness. This sword? It’s fine. If you’re worried about poison, heat it in the fire and wipe it with a cloth. Or just toss it into the fire altogether. Fire destroys everything—spells, poison, you name it.”
She shot a glance at Stuga, as if assigning him the task.
Stuga said nothing but appeared to be listening intently.
Olga turned back to the three and continued.
“Maraka is finished. He’s lost his mystique. For a shaman, mystique is everything. His arrogance will drive him to ruin on its own.”
Her confident expression reminded Damion of a baker watching a rival bakery go out of business.
Damion felt much calmer.
‘She’s quite the woman. If I come to rule this place one day, I’ll visit her often for advice. Perhaps even for a leisurely tea.’
Damion said,
“Even if you’re right, Maraka’s words remain. The Geron who attended tonight’s feast will return home and tell their families. Those families will tell their neighbors. From now on, the Elum tribe will forever associate my downfall with Maraka’s prophecy. What should I do about that?”
“You’ve understood prophecies perfectly. Once again, I’m convinced you’ll be a great ruler. Are you worried about the curse? Turn it to your advantage.”
“You’re telling me to believe in magic?”
“To use it, you don’t need to believe in it.”
Olga picked up a rune and lightly dropped it onto the floor.
With a crisp clink, the stone rolled toward Jedrick.
Jedrick caught the rolling stone effortlessly.
“Think of a stone thrown into the water, the stone is the action, and the ripples it creates are the consequences. When an action is taken, you can predict the results.”
Olga looked at Damion as if asking if he understood.
Damion nodded.
Next to him, Charlon nodded three times.
“When a person is born, a stone falls into the water, creating ripples. The moment those ripples touch the shore is their fate. What I read are the ripples reaching the shore. But what happens if someone throws another stone into the water, disrupting those ripples?”
Olga mimed the act of tossing a stone and spread her hands wide over the table.
“The ripples change. The moment of destiny I read shifts. If someone tries to manipulate you using Maraka’s curse, apply this principle.”
“How, exactly?”
“If you say, ‘I don’t believe in curses,’ people will focus on instances where curses seem to come true. But if you use the curse to change people’s beliefs, then you’re the one using it.”
“Hmm... Like saying, ‘See? I’m still alive. I’m stronger than Maraka’s curse!’ Is that what you mean?”
“Not exactly...”
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“Hmm...”
Damion groaned and then admitted honestly,
“I still don’t quite get it.”
“Shall we practice?”
Olga extended her hand toward Jedrick.
“Can I have that rune, Jed?”
Jedrick placed the stone he had caught in the center of the table.
“This represents Jed.”
Olga then pulled out more stones from her bag and placed them beside the first.
"Now, this stone represents Prince Damion, and this one represents Lady Charlon. Do you understand?"
The three nodded in unison.
"From now on, I will predict your futures. Then, using the story I just shared with you, each of you will say something along the lines of, ‘Even if the catastrophe of destiny crashes over me like a wave, I will submerge it with my will. You will see me overcome it.’ Practice persuading me, and by doing so, you will learn how to rule over any superstition-driven subjects in the future."
"That's a good idea,"
Damion agreed.
Charlon, with a delighted expression, pointed at the stone assigned to her and asked,
"Will you do mine too, Olga?"
"If that is your wish, of course, my lady,"
Olga replied kindly, as if speaking to her granddaughter.
"Then I'll try it. This sounds fun."
Jedrick, on the other hand, looked a little bored.
"I don’t really want to do this, Olga."
Olga scolded him,
"Just do it. The other two seem to be enjoying themselves—will you ruin the mood?"
"Fine…"
Jedrick glanced briefly at Charlon, shook his head a few times, and gave in.
"Alright, I’ll do it."
Olga rolled the rune stones a few times, placed some back into her pouch, and rearranged the others.
There was nothing mystical like the elder wizards from Eldertower who visited the castle.
Nor was it bizarre like the spectacle Hak put on, scattering powders in the banquet hall.
It seemed no more than a child’s game with stones, closer to play than to divination.
Damion recalled when he had once disguised himself as a commoner and left the palace, venturing to the outskirts of the city where wandering merchants gathered.
It was a lively, festive atmosphere—impossible to resist participating in.
That was when he first encountered fortune-telling.
A woman dressed as a witch, complete with a fake nose made of flour, had caressed a crystal ball and told him his future.
According to her, he would meet his destined love at a mill within a month, earn a fortune at a bakery, and suffer a grave mishap involving a hunting dog.
Of course, none of it came true—not even her guess that he was a prince.
Olga’s “game” with rune stones seemed even less convincing than that crystal ball fortune-telling.
There were no dazzling sparks like Hak Maraka’s, nor any sleight of hand to dazzle the eyes like the court magicians.
In short, it all felt fake.
When the rune stones were finally arranged, Olga looked at the three of them.
"Who wants to go first?"
Charlon raised her hand slightly.
"Me!"
Olga began reading the ancient symbols as if she were reading from a book.
"Very well. Three runes have appeared. The first is a curse. This means you were born carrying a curse. The second rune is division. Hmm, this suggests a fate that should have been one was split into two. Since what was one has become two, one must die for the other to live. The third is the north. You’ve come north to survive."
Charlon, who had been smiling at first, gradually turned pale.
Unperturbed, Olga continued reading the remaining stones in the ancient language.
"But you won’t be able to stay in the north. You’ll flee south again, only to ultimately meet your death at the hands of your kin."
"Olga! What are you saying…?"
Jedrick protested angrily, but Damion raised a hand to stop him.
Though he wasn’t sure why, it seemed Olga had struck a nerve with Charlon.
Even after Olga’s prophecy ended, Charlon couldn’t tear her gaze from the stone.
Her lips trembled slightly.
This was the moment when Damion should have taken her hand to comfort her, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Fear suddenly overcame him.
An obstinate resolve not to falter took its place.
"I agreed to listen, so I’ll continue. What is my destiny?"
Olga nodded and resumed in her dry tone.
"You were born as the second son and will forever gain only second place, but eventually, unable to endure the envy of the firstborn, you will flee."
Damion felt his heart sink.
He was the second son.
His elder brother, Prince Lamuel, had everything.
Yet Lamuel sought to take away everything Damion had as well.
So Damion fled—to the north.
"You hope to settle in the north, but you won’t find the love you desire. You’ll leave the north and flee endlessly to the south. Wherever you set foot, storms of blood will follow. You will never find peace anywhere."
Involuntarily, Damion glanced at Charlon.
She was still staring at her stone.
When he looked back at Olga, she was already reading Jedrick’s runes.
"Oh dear, Jedrick. Now I see why you’ve never received my prophecies before. You weren’t meant to. The spirit of an ancient god resides within you. Akamantum, the god of war who brought Mantum to the earth. Akamantum, whom we falsely named as our ruler’s servant, is you. You are the true ruler who will unite our people, Jedrick Akamantum."
Olga’s voice remained flat.
She even seemed amused.
But the three who heard her prophecy felt no amusement.
Rage.
Terror.
Confusion…
There wasn’t a single good emotion among them.
Olga smiled and spoke like a teacher giving a problem to a child.
"Now, it’s your turn to speak."
The room hadn’t changed from when they had first entered.
The light was the same, the smell was the same, and Olga’s smile hadn’t changed.
But for the first time since entering the Geronian village, Damion felt utterly afraid.
"Remember what I asked you to say earlier? Go on, say it,"
Olga urged.
No one answered.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Night]
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