“Magpies have their own master.”

Until those words were written in the margin of the note sent by the Duke, Ishar never dreamed or even considered that he would make a different choice. However, the moment he put the period, suddenly, the words that Liz had uttered came to his mind and shook Ishar’s heart.

“Do not fear death.”

A faint plea was felt. It wasn’t cheering or encouragement for someone standing before the gallows, but rather, Ishar sensed a request.

‘Please don’t make the wrong choice.’

…or something like that.

He wasn’t confident. He couldn’t entirely trust his intuition because he wasn’t Hersis.

Perhaps Liz didn’t know why she wrote those words, other than maybe hoping he would die quickly, considering him a potential traitor.

Even so, it made him rethink.

Ishar looked at his response to the Duke’s proposal and questioned himself.

‘Is this really the best choice?’

Certainly, it was the best for the honor of House Valdemion…

‘But what about me? Is it the best for me too? Can I live without shame after giving the Duke my military power?’

The answer didn’t come easily.

No matter how much he denied it, he ultimately knew. It meant becoming a man of the Duke.

“Magpies have their own master.”

Wasn’t that the slogan of those who followed the Duke?

Ishar was afraid of death. But living a disgraceful life was even more frightening.

He picked up the pen again. And under the words I wrote, he added one more line.

“Magpies have their own master… but it’s not you.”

He folded it along the creased line, then put it under the vase. The maid in charge of the meal took the vase and the note, saying she would also bring water. And she didn’t come back…

He focused on the prisoner transport carriage in front of him again. The inside of the carriage, visible through the open door, was tinged with red, resembling the inside of a disgusting beast’s mouth.

Watching the scene quietly, Ishar bit his lower lip tightly with tension. But when positive aspects of the situation suddenly occurred to him, he quickly regained his composure.

He recalled hearing from the former duke that people never forget the person they killed.

If that were true, Liz would remember him until she died.

‘Because you chose this path because of you.’

That thought expelled tension from Ishar’s body. Ishar adjusted his posture, lowered his eyes comfortably, and pondered for a moment.

Why is it that Liz is the only consolation in such a desperate situation?

It certainly wasn’t like that at first. She was just a hateful woman.

“Pardelio Hisculum.”

Ah…!

“As the battlefield slogan of the ancient kingdom, it means ‘unite your strength.'”

Yes, that was it. It started from then.
Since the day he heard those words at the banquet, he began to see her in a different light. At that moment, he knew she was thinking the same slogan as he did because he used to recite it like a habit.

It was an incantation he had discovered in old manuscripts in the library during his childhood. His mother tried to prevent him from memorizing it, claiming it was an ominous spell that brought about the downfall of the kingdom. Still, since it was not originally uttered for good luck, he didn’t pay it much attention. He just liked the sound of the words.

“Pardelio Hisclum!”

The feeling when someone else spoke the words that had been spinning around in his head was so familiar it was indescribable.

Embarrassed yet intrigued by the thought that someone might have read his mind, it felt like there was a strange connection between them, like an unseen thread tying them together.

On that day, Ishar clearly felt that from Liz. That was the beginning, and the end was…

“…”

Ishar’s mouth slowly lifted at the sight of the shabby prisoner transport carriage. Suddenly, he felt like he had been taking a step closer to the gallows since the day he memorized “Pardelio Hisclum.” Then, everything felt like destiny, and he no longer felt unjust or afraid.

With a dignified posture, Ishar took a step forward. The crowd began to murmur.

Then he reached out his hand.

Ishar thought they would throw stones at him. He was prepared for it. But… no.

They extended their hands.

Seeing the various directions their fingertips were pointing, it seemed like they were having thoughts about touching a famous figure before he died.

The palace guards tried to block and push them away, but it was chaotic. They touched Ishar’s clothes, brushed against his arms.

Unable to endure, the palace guards fixed their spears and removed the caps at the ends. The sharp spear tips glinted coldly under the sunlight.

They aimed it at the people.

“Stop.”

Ishar said. The authoritative tone in his composed voice instantly subdued the palace guards.

The palace guards who had been leaning the spears sideways stood them upright. However, the people, frightened, took a step back.

Ishar slowly turned around and extended his hand through the palace guards.

Those who had been boldly reaching out now exchanged glances, unsure of what to do.