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Chapter 108: Execution by Fire (2)
Jedrick heard Charlon’s voice.
She was nowhere to be seen in the square, so it had to be an illusion.
And yet, he wanted to believe he had truly heard her.
She was grieving, suffering.
She seemed to be in even more pain than he was, though he was about to burn to death.
"Charlon, take care."
Jedrick spoke.
If he was going to delude himself into thinking he could hear her, then he wanted to believe that his voice could reach her as well.
"I’m going to be in a lot of pain soon. So you should be in pain too. We promised, didn’t we?"
He waited to accept his predetermined fate.
The firewood for his execution had already begun piling up in the corner of the square.
Since the wood prepared for Olga’s execution the day before was still there, it did not take long to get ready.
Instead, setting up the pillar to which the condemned would be tied took time.
The square’s ground was packed dirt, hardened like stone from the constant foot traffic.
Digging a hole deep enough to secure the pillar and refilling it with dirt was unfamiliar work for those involved.
Even men who could build houses argued over how to erect a single pillar.
It was no easy task to stand the spruce pillar upright.
It was thick and sturdy, designed to resist burning for a long time while the condemned suffered in the flames.
But that very durability made it heavy and difficult to lift.
At one point, while some men held it in place and others filled the hole with dirt, the pillar toppled over, forcing them to start all over again.
Did Ikarum want to make the execution as grand as possible?
There was a superstition that spruce could ward off curses.
If Olga had been burned at the stake, that might have made sense.
But it was unnecessary for Jedrick.
‘If they want to make my suffering last as long as possible, I suppose this method works.’
Jedrick had witnessed a burning at the stake in a neighboring village as a child.
Back then, they had not used such a large pillar.
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Instead, they had set up a few crossed stakes in an X shape to bind the condemned’s limbs.
That man had traveled between villages, murdering five children and committing unspeakable acts.
Though Jedrick had only been there as a visitor, he was allowed to vote on the man’s guilt at the trial.
Die, you wretched bastard!
The villagers wanted him to suffer as much as possible.
Instead of setting a strong fire, they let the heat and smoke slowly sear him over hours.
But as the flames took hold and he thrashed in agony, the stakes securing him collapsed.
He fell forward into the fire, pinned beneath the wood, and suffocated before the executioners could pull him out.
He had not even burned to death.
The villagers furiously blamed the men responsible for setting up the stake.
‘So they want to make me suffer that much? That’s cruel.’
Waiting for them to finish setting up the pillar was grueling.
Just as they were nearly done, Damion spoke.
"I object."
Not everyone heard him.
The sound of stacking firewood, the voices of the men struggling with the pillar, and Ikarum’s barking orders drowned him out.
He repeated himself, but still, his words were lost.
A royal knight, unable to bear it any longer, bellowed in a deep voice—not in the language of Geron.
"Stop the work!"
Only then did Ikarum turn around.
But he did not halt the stacking of the firewood.
Damion spoke to the commander beside him.
The commander’s name was Bedian, and he seemed to be acting as Damion’s interpreter.
During the surrender negotiations, there had been a few southern soldiers who spoke Geron’s language, but Bedian had the best pronunciation among them.
His speech was slow, though, which had made the negotiations drag on.
Jedrick recalled that another officer, Domien, had been better at speaking Geron.
But he had not joined them when they moved to the encampment.
If anyone, lieutenant Aedun would have been a better choice, but he was likely too busy overseeing the military withdrawal to attend this trial.
Once this was over, Damion and General Terdin would need to hurry back to the main force.
"I object to the trial’s verdict."
Bedian relayed Damion’s words.
Ikarum confirmed his statement, since Bedian’s pronunciation was not precise.
"What do you mean?"
"The prince says he objects."
"A trial’s verdict cannot be overturned!"
Bedian translated, then Damion responded, which Bedian then relayed in slow, halting Geron.
"Not overturning the result… Not saying no… The plan is different. No, the process is different. No, the process was wrong. I raise an objection."
Bedian stumbled over his words as he spoke.
During the negotiations, he had done reasonably well, but standing in front of a crowd in the square made things harder.
"What procedure do you mean? We followed all the correct steps in this trial."
Ikarum shouted.
After another lengthy round of interpretation, Bedian finally responded.
"The testimony is lacking. That is… who was it…?"
At this crucial moment, Bedian muttered to himself as he struggled to recall the proper term.
"Ah! The victim and the accused have not testified. The procedure is too little. No, insufficient. No, that’s not it… What was the right term…? A minimal procedure is still required."
"The procedure was followed. The accused was given a chance to testify but did not. The victim was given a chance to testify but did not. The verdict has been reached."
Bedian double-checked Ikarum’s words and relayed them to Damion, a process that took even more time.
Sweating, Bedian turned to Damion.
"Your Highness, these are legal terms, and I fear I may misinterpret your words in Geron. If I make a mistake, it could distort your argument at this crucial moment."
"Then ask if there is anyone here who speaks southern dialect properly."
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Damion ordered.
Ikarum called someone over.
The man who stepped forward was Larn.
The moment Bedian saw him, he whispered to Damion in concern.
"When I asked about an interpreter earlier, they brought him too. But after speaking with him briefly… His southern dialect is worse than my Geron."
It was an accurate assessment of Larn.
But Ikarum didn’t know any Southern speech at all, so he wouldn’t be able to make that judgment.
"Then have Jedrick, who speaks the most accurate Southern speech, interpret."
Damion spoke.
At that moment, Vadio spoke from the side.
"A criminal cannot be entrusted with the interpretation of his own verdict, Your Highness."
Jedrick hadn’t even realized that the count was here.
But of course, he wouldn’t be absent.
His face showed amusement at the situation.
"Look at the man’s gaze toward us. We don’t know what grudge he may hold against Your Highness, and he may interpret in a way that benefits him. If not that, he could try to sow discord between both sides."
"But in this case…"
"No, Your Highness. Proceed as is. In my view, there is nothing that could be misinterpreted."
Vadio spoke in a stern voice to the Bedian commander.
"You continue. The other side also has an interpreter, so both can just relay each other's words."
Vadio looked triumphant, as if he had won a battle.
At the start of the trial, Damion had been expressionless, but he was gradually losing patience and breaking down.
At first, he hadn’t even glanced at Jedrick, but now he kept stealing glances at him.
Eventually, he began staring at him for longer and longer.
Was he still angry?
Why did he stop the execution?
He must have wanted this trial more than anyone.
He must have wanted the execution more than anyone.
‘Do as you wish. I’m ready, Damion.’
Jedrick fought back tears.
He didn’t want to make Damion regret his decision because of his tears.
If Damion wanted revenge, he wanted him to feel satisfied that he had taken it.
He was just saddened that this was how they had to part.
To say goodbye like this to the only friend he had ever shared true camaraderie with.
‘I don’t regret loving Charlon. But I should have told Damion first. I didn’t need his permission—feelings don’t work like that. But I should have told him. I failed to do that. I am a traitor. I deserve to die.’
Damion spoke.
"I, the Conqueror, wish to give the Great Chieftain Jedrick one more chance to speak."
At that moment, Jedrick realized that Damion was about to say not just one, but two things that he absolutely should not say.
He wanted to stop him.
But Damion had already opened his mouth, and before Jedrick could say anything, the words were spoken.
"He was unwell earlier. In Triton’s law, if a prisoner is not in good enough condition to stand trial, they are given minimal treatment and allowed to recover enough to defend themselves. Do Geronians not have such laws?"
Larn, standing beside Ikarum, stammered as he interpreted.
He seemed unsure, tilting his head several times.
But it seemed he had conveyed the meaning well enough.
Ikarum firmly refused.
"As I said before, the verdict has been reached."
"I command it by my authority! Regardless of the verdict, I grant the criminal Jedrick a final chance to speak. Speak, not to Ikarum or the people of this village who condemned you to death, but to me!"
Before Damion had even finished speaking, Jedrick had already decided what he would say.
‘Shut up, Conqueror. Your woman was mine. I did not force her, and she loves me. Execute me as you please. Lord Raham will recognize my righteousness.’
Should he throw in something about his brother, too?
‘Are you satisfied now, Lord Ehodin? Didn’t Olga say it yesterday? That you will all perish under Hag’s curse? Try living without me!’
Then Damion and the villagers could watch him burn without guilt.
That was what they had wanted from the beginning, so he should say it like that.
"Speak only to me, Jedrick. Tell only the truth."
But because Damion had said the words he shouldn’t have, Jedrick also ended up saying the words he shouldn’t have.
"I’m sorry."
Once he said it, words he had wanted to say but shouldn’t have followed.
"Not for loving Charlon, but for failing to understand your heart. Not for taking your woman, but for hurting your feelings."
‘Stop. Don’t make Damion feel guilty.’
Jedrick clenched his teeth and tried to hold back, but he couldn’t refuse Damion’s request to tell the truth.
"In every way, I am guilty, Damion. Let me die. Don’t make this more complicated. Just let things unfold as they are."
Jedrick wanted to add more.
‘Don’t cry. Don’t show weakness to these villagers. Don’t show weakness to Count Vadio. Execute me with resolve. Kill me with your own hands. That’s the only way. If I die by your hand, I can accept it. So don’t let those words on your lips come out.’
Fortunately, Damion did not shed tears.
But he did not grant Jedrick’s wish.
"Yesterday, Charlon already told me. She, the alleged victim in this trial, claimed she was not a victim. She said she had been with the man she loved, and that matches Jedrick’s testimony. The two of them were simply true to their feelings. So, as Charlon’s representative and as the Conqueror, I…"
Don’t do it, Damion.
Don’t say those words.
"…forgive Jedrick."
Damion said.
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