TFM 107

Chapter 107

***

After watching her movements through the window, Varkas stepped out of the hallway and descended the stairs. As he exited through the back door, thick, tangled shrubs blocked his view.

Hurrying through the thicket, he came to a sudden halt when he spotted Talia sitting beneath a red holly tree.

The moment he saw her sitting on the ground in a thin robe, his throat stung as if he had swallowed a shard of glass.

He swallowed the sharp words rising within him and strode toward her.

“What are you doing in a place like this?”

The woman, who had been staring silently at the flower bed, lifted her head. Her unfocused eyes scanned the empty space. Varkas’s expression twisted.

“Were you burning sleep-inducing herbs?”

“......No, I’m not. I’m just a little tired.”

Talia replied in a drowsy voice and dropped her gaze back to the flower bed.

Following her gaze, Varkas spotted a bird slumped lifelessly among the overgrown grass and his face hardened.

Its belly had been torn open—perhaps by a stray cat—and its entrails, teeming with ants and maggots, were exposed.

She used to be the kind of woman who would recoil at the mere sight of a bug. A woman who had hated dirt to the point of being almost obsessive-compulsive, and who loved beauty so much she was accused of being extravagant—that woman had, at some point, begun to turn her gaze toward the grotesque. That strange change bothered him.

He lifted her to her feet with a somewhat rough touch.

“If you’re tired, you should rest in your room. Why are you doing this?”

“………I just came out for a bit of fresh air because I felt stifled. It was strangely hot in there.”

Talia muttered, as if making an excuse.

Varkas, who had been furrowing his brow, placed the back of his hand on her forehead.

He didn’t feel any heat. Perhaps because she was dressed lightly and had been exposed to the cold wind, her skin actually felt cool.

Varkas let out a small sigh and took off his coat, draping it over her shoulders.

“Let’s go inside now. You’re cold.”

“You know……………”

Just as he wrapped an arm around her and started toward the back gate, a strained voice held him back.

He looked down again. Shadowy blue eyes filled his vision. The woman, who had been nervously biting her lip as if hesitating, struggled to continue.

“A long time ago……………….”

“So you were here all along!”

At that moment, a booming voice cut her off.

Varkas turned his head toward the sound. Daren Dru Shiokan, accompanied by a few subordinates, was striding across the garden, trampling the wildflowers along the narrow path.

“I have urgent news to report. I went to the inn and met some informants from the capital; they say the situation at the Imperial Palace is far from normal. It seems the Empress is preparing to expand her power in earnest….”

The man, who had been speaking hastily, belatedly noticed Talia and fell silent.

Varkas studied Talia’s expression. Her face, which had looked as defenseless as a lost child’s, had turned cold and frozen.

She took a step back and muttered in a low, subdued voice.

“I’m going up to my room. You go about your business.”

“I’ll escort you to your chambers.”

“I can go by myself.”

“Haven’t I told you time and again that you must not go out without an escort?”

A faint look of displeasure flashed across her beautiful face at his reproachful tone.

She scanned the knights standing behind Daren and pointed to the smallest man among them.

“Then assign that man to be my escort.”

The soldier who had been singled out flinched, looking flustered.

Ever since the incident where his wife had lunged at Lucas, threatening to rip out his tongue, the warriors of the clan had treated her as a person of interest. The man who had been singled out also seemed reluctant, shifting uneasily and glancing around for approval.

Varkas snapped coldly.

“What are you standing there for? Hurry up and escort her.”

As soon as his order was given, the soldier scurried over.

Varkas reluctantly released his arms from around her. Talia walked away from him without hesitation.

After watching her retreating figure for a moment, Varkas turned his head back toward Daren. As if he had been waiting for this, Daren pulled a bundle of parchment from his coat and held it out.

“These are documents recording the events that have unfolded in the capital since Your Excellency left the Imperial Palace.”

He read through the documents carefully. The report detailed growing rifts among the conservative nobles and noted that the Empress had begun openly gathering supporters for the Second Prince (Asros).

Varkas furrowed his brow.

'That’s not like her.'

The Emperor was still in good health. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the reign of Bilus Roem Guirta would continue for at least another ten years. So why wasn’t the Empress waiting until the Second Prince came of age?

This baffling move sparked intense suspicion. Just as she had used her daughter to provoke Gareth, was her scheme this time to stir up trouble by putting her young son forward? If that woman was indeed inciting Gareth’s reckless behavior, a far greater danger might be lurking behind the scenes of this marriage proposal.

As Varkas read on about the engagement between the heir of the Heimdall family and the First Princess (Ayla) being formally discussed, he crumpled the parchment in irritation.

Strengthening relations with the North was not a bad thing in itself. However, entrusting Ayla’s safety to them was a rash decision.

The Northerners were a people with an extraordinary obsession with their bloodline. Were they not the very people who, over generations, had not hesitated to engage in incestuous marriages to preserve the platinum hair and red eyes characteristic of the ancient giants? There was no way they would willingly accept a black-haired princess as their mistress. They must surely have ulterior motives.

With a pensive expression, Varkas stroked his lips and soon left the garden.

Guided by the head steward, he entered his office, where a young page brought him writing implements. He sat down at his desk and drafted several documents. They were orders to thoroughly investigate the size of the army assembled by the Heimdall family and the flow of funds.

After sealing them and handing them to a messenger, he wrote two additional telegrams to be sent to the capital. One was addressed to the Marquis of Oristein, and the other to Gareth.

Writing a warning about the dangers in the north in the most diplomatic tone possible, Varkas signed the document and affixed his seal.

Daren, who had been watching from the side, asked awkwardly.

“Do you intend to call off the marriage of the First Princess?”

Varkas looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well… wouldn’t it look a bit strange if Your Excellency were to step in and dissuade her?”

Daren scratched the back of his head.

“The public might assume that the Grand Duke of Shiokan still harbors feelings for the First Princess.”

Varkas let out a dry laugh.

“You’re worrying about the most trivial of things.”

The gossip chattered about by the courtiers at the palace had little impact on the East. He had already firmly secured the new Grand Duchess’s approval among his retainers. At present, it was far more dangerous to give the conservative nobles the impression that his relationship with the Crown Prince had completely soured.

He rolled up the parchment and stamped it with wax.

“Select the fastest messenger and send him to the capital.”

The man, who had been wearing a peculiar expression for a moment, took the parchment and walked out.

Varkas leaned back in his chair and turned his head toward the window.

Before he knew it, the sky had begun to pour down a fine mist of rain.

Suddenly, the lingering image of Talia standing alone in the garden flashed through his mind. What had she been trying to say back then?

As the memory of her desolate eyes gazing at the dead bird surfaced, an uneasy sensation welled up in his chest. Overcome by an inexplicable restlessness, Varkas tapped his fingers on the desk before immediately leaving his office.

The hall was in an uproar, as if preparations were underway for a welcome ceremony. He walked past the bowing servants and ascended the stairs.

As he opened the bedroom door, a small figure curled up on the wide bed caught his eye.

He approached the bed. A faint blush had risen across her snow-white cheeks, which traced elegant curves. She had been slumped over all day like a sick chick, and it seemed she had finally come down with a fever.

Varkas exhaled deeply and picked up a clean towel from the shelf. Just as he was about to wipe her face with it, a strange odor brushed against his nose.

He froze. A dark red stain was spreading across the corner of her mouth. He stared at it for a long moment, then gently shook her body, which lay on its side. Her neck, damp with cold sweat, drooped limply to the side.

Only then did he notice the red stain spreading across the pillow. Varkas, blinking slowly, carefully cradled her head in his hands.

The pungent smell of blood stung his nose. The red liquid pooled at the corner of her mouth trickled down her pale, stiff neck.