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Had she not been frail from the start? When he had last seen her the previous autumn, she had visibly regained some strength, but that offered no guarantee that some mishap had not struck her since. He swallowed down a mouthful of harsh wine to cool his burning chest.
“Your Grace!”
He had been standing against the mountain’s biting wind for some time when a familiar voice hailed him from afar. Varkas turned his head, narrowing his eyes as he spotted Edric Ruben riding leisurely across the valley. Passing through the checkpoint toward the wooden palisade, Edric looked up and called out in his usual breezy tone.
“Congratulations on your victory, Your Grace. Thanks to you, the Imperial Army will have an easy march into Balto’s heartland.”
“How fares the main force?”
“They cut through the southern plains and stand right at the doorstep of Amasec, the rebel seat. At this rate, we’ll bring down Blodar Keep, where Duke Heimdal has dug in, within three or four months.”
Taking another pull of wine, Varkas gave a brief nod.
“Come inside. I have an errand for you.”
Edric looked up with curious eyes, dismounted, and stepped through the camp gate. Varkas walked down the watchtower steps and signaled for the knight to follow.
Leading his mount by the reins, Edric asked, “What kind of errand?”
“Go to the capital and deliver a letter.”
Varkas spoke evenly as he made his way through rows of Shearkan cavalrymen resting about the camp. Edric stopped just outside the tent flap, dissatisfaction settling across his face.
“Another letter? Does everyone take me for a courier?”
“It is addressed to His Majesty. I cannot entrust it to just anyone.”
Brushing aside the complaint, Varkas pulled out a chair and sat behind the desk inside the command tent. Edric hitched his horse out front, stepped inside, and scratched the back of his neck with an aggrieved grumble.
“The vanguard must have dispatched a battle report already. Why must Your Grace send a separate missive?”
“What I am sending is no ordinary report.”
Varkas spread a clean sheet of parchment, anchored it with a brass weight, and took up his quill.
“I intend to request that His Majesty propose peace talks to the Northern Noble Alliance.”
Edric knitted his brows, bewildered.
“When the war is all but won? Why should His Majesty be the one to extend an olive branch now?”
“Precisely because victory is assured.”
Varkas dipped the quill in ink and began writing in an even, practiced hand. “Unless we intend to slaughter the Balto people to the last, we must show clemency while the momentum is ours. If we offer to punish only the ringleaders of the rebellion and pardon the rest, the lords will desert the Heimdals on their own.”
“Yet if we pardon traitors so lightly, imperial authority will suffer. Other lords might nurture notions of rebellion down the line…”
“Dragging this out will only deepen their hatred of the Empire. The northerners have already seen their strongholds and fields soaked in blood by imperial troops. If we fail to show mercy now, they will remain our enemies forever.”
Varkas finished the letter in moments, folded it, and dripped scarlet wax over the seam. Watching in silence, Edric rubbed the nape of his neck and let out a weary breath.
“I understand your reasoning, sir. But there will be hell to pay if the Crown Prince discovers this. Even now, he roars about flaying every last traitor alive…”
“Which is why His Highness must not hear of it.”
Varkas pressed his signet ring into the soft wax and extended the letter. Only then did it dawn on Edric that he was being ordered to slip a secret missive behind the back of the commander-in-chief. He paled, groaning aloud.
“You know full well I’m already in the Crown Prince’s bad books. You could easily dispatch a Shearkan rider—why must it be me…?”
“If a messenger from the Grand Duchy rides out under current conditions, eyes from every faction will follow him. Yet it raises no suspicion when a knight of the Imperial Guard seeks an audience with His Majesty. Above all, this negotiation must appear to originate from the Emperor himself.”
At a loss for an argument, Edric merely worked his jaw before reluctantly accepting the letter. A heavy sigh tumbled past his lips.
“If the Crown Prince’s pressure forces me out of the order, Your Grace had better take me in.”
Varkas offered no answer, merely gesturing toward the exit with a tilt of his chin. The sullen knight’s lips suddenly twitched into a roguish grin.
“Fine then. If Your Grace refuses to harbor me, I’ll take my chances with the Grand Duchess.”
Varkas, who had already drawn out another sheet of parchment for his vassals, stopped and looked up. Edric gave an easy shrug.
“The last time I saw her, she promised to hire me as her escort if ever I found myself cast out.”
“Hah. How long ago was that?”
Varkas shook his head, dismissive.
“Taking an offhand remark to heart… You are far more gullible than you appear.”
“She was in earnest,” Edric retorted, stung. “She told me that scarcely two months ago. Perhaps seeing me run errands like an errand boy moved her pity, because she asked right then if I’d rather serve as her personal guard…”
“You saw my wife two months ago?”
The glib knight seized up, his shoulders snapping tight. Quailing beneath the cold weight of Varkas’s stare, he stammered an excuse.
“I… I had to visit Kalmor regarding the draft of siege engineers. I merely happened upon her by chance.”
“How does one happen upon my wife by chance when she never steps outside the keep?”
Faced with the sharp interrogation, an injured look crossed Edric’s face. He protested as though the notion were sheer absurdity.
“Who says she stays inside? She keeps a wolf the size of a warhorse—how could she cooped up in a room? Because of that beast, she rides beyond the walls nearly every day. I crossed paths with her in the meadows south of Raedgo Castle.”
Varkas narrowed his eyes.
Come to think of it, four months ago, a letter had arrived from her requesting permission to take the wolf outside. He had granted it on the sole condition that she bring a heavy escort.
In truth, he had not wanted her to venture a single step beyond the fortress, yet he had lacked the heart to refuse the very first request she had ever written to him.
‘I assumed it would be an excursion once or twice, merely for a change of air…’
Irritation flared along his nerves. He pressed a thumb against his temple, only to catch Edric watching him with rapt curiosity. Varkas met him with a cutting stare.
“What?”
“Nothing… It’s just, I’m amazed you allowed her to keep a magical beast at all.”
Varkas almost snapped that he had never granted explicit consent, but swallowed the words. Giving tacit permission had amounted to the same thing.
He leaned against the high back of his chair, roughly raking a hand through his hair.
When the report first reached him that she had begun rearing a Dire Wolf pup, he had intended to have it put down immediately. A beast remained a beast, no matter how young. He had possessed no intention of leaving such a menace at her side.
Yet the moment he had seen her in the summer sun, cradling that small creature against her chest, he had been forced to turn away without a word.
For the woman who had lived in torment since losing their child had been smiling, looking truly content.
The bitter pang that had struck him then left a sour ache lingering in his throat. His absence was what had made her whole again.
Swallowing down that cold truth once more, Varkas masked his bitterness and asked, “Did my wife look well?”
“Very well indeed,” Edric replied brightly. “I don’t believe I ever saw her so vibrant when she resided at the Imperial Palace. That beast seems to bring her nothing but happiness.”
END