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The man looked at her as if she were being utterly absurd, then let out a resigned sigh.
“Your Highness hasn’t changed a bit.”
Talia’s eyes narrowed at the sour amusement in his voice.
“And what is that supposed to mean—?”
“Y-Your Highness!”
Just as she was about to lash out at the knight’s insolence, Varkas’s clumsy page came bolting around the corner.
The boy’s face was as pale as dough, terrified after witnessing her nearly tumble down the stairs.
“A-Are you all right? Does anything hurt…?”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
Despite her flat reassurance, the page looked no less frantic. His eyes darted anxiously over her frame before he spun on his heel.
“Still, just in case, I’ll fetch Lady Marisen! Please, wait right here!”
Before she could even open her mouth to stop him, the boy scurried away down the corridor.
Talia frowned after him, then turned back to the knight. He was staring at her swollen stomach with an uneasy furrow between his brows. Instinctively uncomfortable under his gaze, Talia drew her cloak tighter around herself.
“Didn’t you say you’d explain what brought you here? Stop standing there like an idiot and speak.”
“First, it would be best if you sat down.”
“I told you, I am fine. There is no need to make a fuss—”
Talia moved to dismiss him out of habit, but a dull tug pulled at her lower abdomen. A sharp worry crossed her mind—what if the child had been startled by the near fall?
She gestured toward the drawing room across from the landing with a curt tip of her chin.
“Fine. Follow me.”
Crossing the thick carpet, they stepped beneath the arched doorway into the quiet room. Talia made her way to an armchair beside the fireplace, where a bed of embers still glowed faintly, and sank into it with care.
The knight, who had been lingering awkwardly by the door, crossed over and sat across from her. For someone who had just been lecturing an imperial princess, he suddenly looked thoroughly out of his depth.
Talia pressed him without hesitation.
“Now talk. Who sent you?”
“I was dispatched by Sir Raoric Alderheim, Commander of the Roem Knights.”
Talia raised a brow. The answer was entirely unexpected.
“Why would the Commander of the Roem Knights send you all the way here?”
The man hesitated, turning words over in his head, before he finally spoke.
“Suspicious movements have been detected in the North. In response, His Majesty ordered troops stationed along the regions bordering Balto to keep them in check. He also requested that the East take an active role in the deployment.”
Talia’s breath caught. A sudden chill traced her spine, and the hair on the nape of her neck rose.
“Does that mean… there is going to be a war?”
“No!”
The knight raised his hands in hasty denial.
“His Majesty does not wish for direct bloodshed. The evidence of treason remains insufficient… This is merely a silent warning, a tightening of the watch along Balto’s border.”
“The North will not read an imperial buildup as a gentle warning; they will see it as a threat and dig their heels in deeper,” Talia cut in coldly.
“If the Northern Noble Alliance sees the Imperial Army gathering at their doorstep, they will panic. Believing their treason has already been exposed and that the Crown will show no mercy, they will stake everything on open revolt.”
The knight blinked, caught off guard by her assessment.
Looking at his blank face, Talia clicked her tongue in exasperation.
“If His Majesty truly wished to prevent war, he should not be openly posturing with troops. He should be quietly gathering undisputed proof of their treason. Once he has evidence no northern lord can deny, the prudent course is to strike swiftly and take the head of the Alliance!”
“…Your Highness makes a valid point. However, if the North makes their move before sufficient evidence can be unearthed, the situation will spiral beyond control. His Majesty deemed it necessary to muster the army in preparation for the worst.”
Talia’s brow knit. To her, the Emperor’s response reeked of indecision.
If he intended to apply military pressure, striking first would be far more effective.
Simply massing soldiers on the Balto border would only provoke the North into arming themselves further.
Talia parted her lips to tear into his logic, but swallowed her words.
Edric Ruben was only a messenger carrying an imperial decree. Bickering with him would alter nothing.
She chewed the inside of her lip, searching for a lighter angle to soothe her mounting dread.
Perhaps once Balto saw the sheer might of the Roem Empire amassed before them, fractures would form within their ranks. How many men were truly willing to throw away their lives in a war they could never win?
If even a few northern houses broke ranks and knelt, the spark would die before it caught fire.
“And what was Varkas’s reply?”
“He agreed to deploy a cavalry detachment to the border regions, as His Majesty instructed.”
A quiet sigh slipped through Talia’s lips before she could catch it. Only then did she realize what she had truly feared: that Varkas might ride out himself and leave her behind.
It was simply safer to have him here than not.
She offered herself the excuse, but it did nothing to account for the hollow terror that had just gripped her chest.
Shoving aside the bitter truth that she was still tethered to him, Talia forced her focus back onto the knight.
“So you must take his answer back to the Imperial Palace?”
“Yes. I intend to depart later today,” he said, his eyes drifting toward the window.
Talia’s eyes widened slightly.
“Already?”
“The matter is urgent. I cannot afford to delay.”
The knight rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a self-conscious chuckle.
“Truthfully, I should have ridden out at dawn, but I lingered because I wanted to see Your Highness.”
“See me? Why?”
Talia’s gaze turned guarded once more.
Seeing her stiffen, the man rubbed his head awkwardly before offering a blunt, unvarnished answer.
“I was once Your Highness’s personal guard, after all. My conscience has weighed heavily on me ever since you were hurt.”
“…So you only wanted to see me to soothe your own guilt?” Talia spat, her words sharp.
The knight flinched as though struck, yet he did not deny it.
“…Perhaps that is true.”
He breathed a dry, self-deprecating laugh.
Talia stared at him, her brows furrowed. She had rarely encountered anyone who confessed their selfish motives so plainly.
Unexpectedly, a flicker of genuine pity stirred in her chest for the blunt fool.
“…With a temper like that, you will not survive long in the Imperial Palace.”
“I hear that often enough from the others.”
The man shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance, trying to soften the air.
“My prospects for advancement are already rather bleak.”
He meant it in jest, but a strange weight settled over Talia.
Had he been reduced to a mere errand runner because he had incurred the Crown Prince’s wrath?
Looking at him with reluctant sympathy, Talia offered an offhand lifeline.
“If your future is truly so hopeless, come to Shearkan. I will tell Varkas to take you in.”
“Edric Ruben is among the finest of the Roem Knights.”
A cold voice cut through the room. Talia turned to see Varkas standing in the archway, his coat slightly rumpled as though he had walked in haste. He stepped inside, his tone level and dry.
“We cannot permit a knight meant for His Majesty’s personal guard to rot away in an out-of-the-way corner of the empire.”
“…I was unaware you held me in such high esteem, Commander,”
Edric murmured, looking faintly amused. Varkas fixed him with a chilly look.
“I heard you caught my wife when she nearly suffered a terrible fall. You have my gratitude.”
“Not at all. If anything, it was my fault for startling Her Highness and causing the mishap in the first place.”
Talia glared at the knight in utter disbelief. Did the fool truly not understand that it was this exact tongue—blurting out truths better left unsaid—that strangled his career?
Before she could click her tongue, Varkas was suddenly bending low before her. He slid one arm beneath her knees, curled the other firmly around her back, and lifted her into his arms.
END