Ch#157
Brisa glanced at the Grand Duchess, who lay limp as if dead under the influence of the sleeping pills, and gave a silent nod.
The man immediately grabbed his coat from the wall and stepped outside. Only then did Brisa feel the suffocating tension ease, and as she took a deep breath, she heard a rustling sound close by.
Her eyes snapped up, and she gasped in shock to see the Grand Duchess slowly pushing herself up.
Talia stared at her for a moment with clear, sharp eyes—leaving Brisa to wonder just how long she had been awake—before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
Frozen stiff, Brisa hurriedly rushed to her side.
“Your Grace, you mustn’t get up. You need to rest in bed until the effects of the medicine wear off…”
“Move aside.”
At the cold, commanding tone, Brisa flinched and stepped back.
The Grand Duchess stood on the floor barefoot, not even putting on her slippers.
Not knowing what to do, Brisa hovered anxiously, then quickly bent down under the bed to at least get her shoes. It was then that she saw the Grand Duchess’s back as she limped toward the fireplace.
‘…Was she not trying to go outside?’
Confused, Brisa scrambled after her. She was worried that the Grand Duchess, whose legs were weak, might trip and fall into the flames.
“Your Grace, if you are cold, I will prepare a hot water bottle immediately. Please, if you would just sit here…”
“You’re a nuisance.”
Coldly pushing away the hand reaching out to support her, the woman bent down in front of the fireplace. She picked up the poker leaning against the grate and dragged out a bundle of parchment that was halfway consumed by the fire.
Terrified, Brisa whipped off her apron and beat it against the sizzling documents.
Once the embers were finally extinguished, the Grand Duchess leaned down and picked up the parchment.
Brisa watched with a distressed gaze as the lady spread the documents—charred black in various places—with both hands and examined them intently.
What on earth was she supposed to do in a situation like this?
She felt a vague sense that she should stop her, but she had no idea what words to say.
While Brisa stood there wavering, unable to act, the Grand Duchess scanned the stained parchment with chilling eyes before throwing it back into the fire.
The flames roared up momentarily, casting a crimson glow over her gaunt face.
Brisa swallowed hard. For a split second, the woman’s face, framed by the firelight, looked as if it were burning away.
What could have been written there to make her wear such an expression?
Brisa’s gaze shifted curiously between the pale face and the burning bundle of parchment, but the woman abruptly turned around and climbed back into bed.
Hesitating, Brisa cautiously approached and pulled the duvet up over her thin shoulders. Then, she suddenly froze, noticing the tears streaming down the lady’s face.
Seeing her weeping silently with an expression of utter resignation made Brisa’s heart drop.
Brisa spoke up hurriedly, almost instinctively.
“…P-Please, take heart, Your Grace. In time…”
She was about to say things would get better, but she swallowed the words. Even to her own ears, the consolation sounded too hollow.
The Grand Duchess showed no reaction to the presumptuous remark.
Gazing at her with a heavy heart, Brisa eventually failed to find the right words and turned away.
“At this rate, war will be unavoidable.”
Kylias, an elite knight of the Roem Knights, leaned his upper body over the table and spoke heavily.
Varkas, leaning back in his chair while scanning the report the man had brought, let out a cold, mocking laugh.
“Are you saying this wasn’t done with the intention of starting a war?”
Recognizing the mockery in his voice, the man flushed and defended the Emperor.
“His Majesty did his best to mediate the conflict.”
Varkas did not respond.
Taking his silence as a denial, the man continued in a somewhat agitated tone.
“Does Sir Sheikan not know the fervor of the members of the Imperial Assembly? The conservatives do not want the current order to be disturbed. On the other hand, the hardliners are shouting themselves hoarse, insisting that the dignity of the Imperial Family and the authority of the Empire must be upheld. His Majesty tried to accommodate the voices of both sides.”
“The result of which is being backed into a corner where nothing can be done, I see.”
The man looked ready to snap back in anger, but soon his shoulders slumped and he scratched his disheveled hair.
“Isn’t that just what politics is? Everyone chases their own justification and pride while the practical benefits are thrown to the dogs.”
Varkas turned to the last page of the report without agreeing or disagreeing.
It took him quite a while to read because his vision was blurred, as if covered by a white haze, but he had no trouble grasping the gist of the content.
The core of the report was clear: the clandestine work he had been doing all last winter was on the verge of going to waste.
Accepting that fact calmly, Varkas set the bundle of reports down on the desk.
Throughout the winter, he had mobilized all the connections of the Sheikan family to individually win over the members of the Northern Federation. This was to isolate the Heimdal family, the center of the rebellion, from within the North.
However, as the Imperial Family began a large-scale intervention, Balto began to unite once more. The premature military threat had heightened their internal sense of crisis.
“As stated in the report, the Northern nobles Your Grace had persuaded have already begun to withdraw. Even those who haven’t are laying low, fearing they will be treated as traitors to their people. If left like this, a rebellion will truly break out.”
“Then there is no choice but to suppress it.”
Varkas let out a weary sigh and rose from his chair, adding, “Tell His Majesty that we must march to Amasek before the North moves. The sooner the date, the better.”
That calm response left not only Kylias but also the vassals present in the conference room looking bewildered.
The knight hurriedly intercepted Varkas as he tried to end the conversation unilaterally.
“I came to ask you to negotiate with the Heimdal family personally, Sir. Some members of the Northern Federation are still maintaining a neutral stance. If we cooperate with them to pressure the Ducal house, we can still settle this even now…!”
“The line of no return has already been crossed,” Varkas said dryly.
“His Majesty ignored my advice and gathered the Imperial Army as far as Sevron. You know well that the region is the North’s primary granary. Did you expect them not to bite after threatening to take the food from starving beasts?”
“Sir! Please show respect. Using such insolent language toward His Majesty the Emperor is unacceptable…!”
“Your Excellency.”
Varkas cut him off coldly.
“I am no longer of the Roem Knights, but the Grand Duke of Sheikan. You are the one who should show respect.”
The man’s face turned pale.
Varkas watched him in silence before saying in a composed tone, “I will have a room prepared for you, so take sufficient rest before returning with the dispatch.”
“What shall I write in the dispatch…?”
“I intend to write that I shall send three thousand additional cavalry to the Berta Plains to assist in suppressing the rebellion… is there a problem?”
The man stood up abruptly, looking flustered.
“If a war breaks out, His Majesty… will want Your Grace to take the position of Commander-in-Chief.”
“I’ll have to add another line asking him to please withdraw that wish.”
Adding that dryly, Varkas stepped toward the exit of the conference room.
Kylias quickly blocked his path.
“How do you intend to answer the telegram His Majesty sent?”
Varkas looked back at him with a frigid expression.
In his mind, which felt muffled as if filled with water, the fact suddenly surfaced that this man was a fervent follower of Aila Roem Guirta. Come to think of it, he had even presumptuously confronted Varkas about his decision to marry Talia.
It seemed the man had forgotten his place once again. The man held his chin high as if determined to get an answer and spoke clearly.
“His Majesty said that if Your Grace wishes, he would grant a divorce decree at any time. He said that forcing such an unjust marriage in the first place was a mistake…”
“It seems His Majesty thinks my marriage is some kind of joke.”
It was a voice that sounded chilling even to his own ears.
As if sensing an instinctive threat, the man took a step back. Tracking that movement with his eyes, Varkas continued slowly.
“Since you seem curious, I shall give you a kind answer. I intend to tell His Majesty this.”
Varkas reached past the man to lean his hand against a pillar, whispering low into the knight’s face.
“I cannot cast my wife aside like a worn-out shoe as some might, so I ask him to please stay out of this unfaithful servant’s family affairs.”
The knight’s face turned ghostly pale.
Varkas tapped the man’s pale cheek twice with his palm and asked softly, “Is your curiosity satisfied now?”
The man glared at him with a hardened face, biting his lip and casting his eyes down.
Varkas looked down at him silently before leisurely stepping out of the conference room.
