TFM 83

Chapter 83

***

But his gleaming eyes remained fixed on her face. The man looked down at her with an expression that was a jumble of confusion, anger, and a strange intensity, and muttered,

“Who on earth are you…?”

“Can’t you tell just by looking?”

Talia tilted her chin up and said with a sneer.

“I’m the ‘wicked woman born of an illegitimate union’ you’ve been raving about, aren’t I?”

The man’s face flushed crimson. As if the situation had finally clicked into place in his mind, his eyes—which had been clouded by shock—became sharp and clear.

Exhaling hot breath, the man shouted in a furious voice.

“This is going too far! What kind of behavior is this?! I am a knight and a nobleman! Where in the world is it acceptable to treat a nobleman like this...!”

“Is there a separate rule in the world for publicly insulting royalty?”

Talia cut the man off, twisting the corners of her mouth.

“If you’d publicly humiliated the Empire’s princess and committed insubordination against the future monarch, you wouldn’t have a single word to say, would you? You should be grateful it ended with just a wine baptism.”

“I was merely offering frank advice born of loyalty……!”

“Save your dog’s barking for the dogs.”

Her eyes flashed with malice as she lashed out at the man.

“Loyalty? Frank advice? Don’t make me laugh. You were just barking your grievances haphazardly.”

As if overwhelmed by the venom she exuded, the man flinched and took a step back.

Talia, who had been watching him with a mocking gaze, adopted the soft, soothing tone she always used when she intended to cut someone to the core.

“If you feel so sorry for Ayla, why don’t you run over and comfort her yourself? Who knows? Perhaps the perfect princess, whom the entire empire adores, might bestow her favor upon you.”

Then, after carefully scanning the man from head to toe, she let out a frivolous chuckle.

“No, you’re out of the question. My sister is surprisingly picky about who she sees.”

The man’s face had now turned a fiery crimson.

Varkas watched silently as the heat in his eyes transformed into intense hostility.

Seduction quickly gave way to hostility, and desire to rage. Men who encountered her usually reacted that way. The man’s eyes bulged with bloodshot veins as he leaned toward her, looking as if he might pounce at any moment.

He had held back long enough.

Varkas pulled the hood over her head, then cupped the back of her small head and pulled her tightly against his chest. Talia gasped in surprise and struggled with her arms.

Holding her firmly as she tried to break free, he studied the man’s expression closely. Though seething with humiliation, he seemed desperate to snatch the woman from his grasp.

With eyes wide and teeth grinding, the man shouted loudly.

“Hand her over to me this instant! I cannot simply let this insult go unpunished!”

“And what if I don’t? Are you going to draw a knife on me? Or what………………”

Talia, who had been pushing Varkas’s hand away and shouting furiously at the man, suddenly fell silent. It was as if she had sensed the ominous atmosphere surrounding him.

Varkas carefully concealed the woman’s face, which was watching him warily, with his hood, then observed the crowd’s reaction.

Most wore expressions of utter bewilderment, but there were also quite a few who looked at him with a mixture of interest and curiosity. Of course, there were also several who displayed blatant hostility.

His plan to steadily secure the loyalty of his retainers and solidify his foundation without a single flaw seemed to have already gone awry.

He swallowed a sigh and turned his gaze back to the burly man.

“I suppose I must repeat the question my wife asked. What do you intend to do if I don’t just let this slide?”

“I demand an apology for the insult she had hurled at me!”

Varkas stroked his chin, feigning deliberation over the man’s demand.

Alec Gutvan was a powerful figure wielding considerable influence in the southeastern region. Among the Kan warriors, who revered martial arts, there were likely many who blindly followed this man.

Having solidified his position as a local lord by commanding a cavalry unit composed of hundreds of powerful warriors, he must have been arrogant enough to believe he could handle a greenhorn in his early twenties however he pleased.

The fact that he came to cause such a commotion the moment Varkas returned was likely an attempt to gain the upper hand.

Varkas twisted the corners of his mouth.

“Must she really apologize?”

“Yes! Please apologize politely in front of everyone for insulting and mocking me!”

“What do you think?”

Varkas lowered his gaze and directed the question at Talia.

“Do you intend to grant that request?”

A look of betrayal shot back at him immediately. The light from the chandelier flickered across her deep blue irises, which always seemed to scrape at his very core.

“I’d rather die than do that. I’d bite my tongue off first!”

“I see.”

When he cast a dry gaze back at the man, he saw a sinister malice rising within his bloodshot eyes.

The man spat out the words.

“In that case, Young Master, please apologize on your wife’s behalf. No matter what happens, I must exact retribution for the humiliation I have suffered.”

The sound of rough gasps filled the air. Even those who had been testing him seemed taken aback by the excessive demand.

Varkas paused for a moment before slowly opening his mouth. Just then, a frantic hand reached out to stop him.

Lowering his gaze, Varkas saw her pale face and furrowed his brow. Talia, clutching his arm tightly, cried out urgently in a cracked voice.

“Don’t do it. If you apologize, they won’t let you off!”

His stomach churned once more. Previously, he had considered that sensation to be something close to discomfort. But the thought that it might not be that crossed his mind.

He pried her hands away and slowly stepped toward the man. The man’s gaze remained fixed on Talia. As if to block that stare, he spoke softly into the man’s face, which reeked of strong wine.

“We’re men of the East, aren’t we? If we want something, we have to fight for it.”

“What do you mean…………….”

A look of deep suspicion flashed across the man’s previously sullen face. Varkas calmly added,

“Let’s settle this the traditional way. We’ll have a duel, and if you win, I’ll apologize to you respectfully in front of everyone.”

A fierce commotion swept through the banquet hall.

Contrary to his expectation that the man would jump at his proposal, the man held off on answering and instead gave him a probing look. It occurred to him that perhaps half of this man’s radical words and actions might be a pretense.

The man, who had been scrutinizing Varkas with a cunning gaze, finally spoke up.

“Do you even know what a duel truly means? A duel in this land is of a different caliber than the childish games played in the imperial palace. To us, a duel means a desperate, life-or-death confrontation.”

Taking a ragged breath, Talia grabbed Varkas’s coat and yanked it violently. Ignoring her, he replied in a dismissive tone.

“So, are you afraid?”

A thick vein bulged on the man’s broad forehead. After openly sizing him up, the man let out a derisive laugh.

“You certainly have the swagger of an Eastern man.”

“What’s your answer?”

“Fine. I accept the duel.”

No sooner had the man’s reply fallen than a murmur erupted from all around.

Barkas nodded toward Daren, who looked flustered by the sudden turn of events.

“Prepare the horse and armor.”

“The sun has already set. We should wait until dawn tomorrow and then...”

“Why drag this out until then?”

Varkas cut Daren off and looked up at the man provocatively.

“The Kan people learn to fight on horseback before they can even walk. Does the setting sun pose a problem for us?”

“It’s no problem at all.”

The man growled in response.

“Hey! Get my armor and weapons ready right now!”

“Lord Gutvan, please calm down and let’s discuss this again tomorrow……………….”

As a young man who appeared to be his aide tried to dissuade him urgently, the Gutvan struck him across the face with his fist.

“Don’t make me say it twice!”

The young man, clutching his bleeding nose, scrambled out of the banquet hall.

Now, a feverish excitement began to fill the hall. The man, too, looked agitated. He spoke, enunciating each word as if chewing it out.

“The duel will take place in front of everyone. If I win, you will immediately drop to your knees right there and apologize. In a life-or-death contest, shouldn’t that be the minimum compensation?”

“V-Varkas!”

Talia, who had been frozen in place by the uncontrollable turn of events, stepped in front of him.

He barely turned his gaze toward her. Talia muttered in a voice that seemed to be crawling out of her throat.

“I, I’ll apologize… I’ll apologize, so… don’t do anything rash.”

Her tearful voice tore mercilessly at his gut. He pulled his robe tighter to cover her face more completely, then looked up at the man with a blank expression.

“Fine. I’ll do as you wish.”

The man’s smile deepened. It was the face of a man certain of his victory.

Alec Gutvan licked his lips like a bear facing its prey and asked,

“What will you demand when you win, Young Master?”

Just then, attendants rushed into the hall carrying armor. Varkas, taking the gauntlets from a nimble-footed boy, tilted his head. The reply that slipped out sounded dry even to his own ears.

“I have nothing I wish to demand of you.”

Sliding his hand into the iron gauntlet, Varkas added slowly.

“Because if I win, you will never speak again.”

***

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