171
Thanks to their relentless pace, they reached the Norden Plain far sooner than expected.
Emerging from the Armund Forest—a dense expanse of millions of birch trees—Varkas led three hundred mounted warriors across the open plain.
After riding for some time, a vast city ringed by sand-colored stone walls rose along the horizon, flanked by scattered hamlets.
Varkas galloped forward without hesitation, his gaze scanning the surroundings as they moved along dirt roads bordered by sparse vegetable patches and timber cottages.
Peasants weeding or thinning crops sown in early spring pulled off their caps in unison to pay respect. Several children gathered by the roadside gazed up at the warhorses with open yearning. At a glance, the countryside appeared entirely peaceful.
Varkas searched the villagers’ faces with narrowed eyes, then rode straight for the city gate. As he neared, guards on the watchtower blew a prolonged whistle, heralding the Grand Duke’s return to the entire city.
“Welcome back!”
The moment he passed beneath the archway into the city proper, a loud shout echoed down from above.
Varkas looked up, his brow furrowing as a broad-shouldered youth came leaping down the stone staircase along the wall.
Bounding forward with the fluid grace of a leopard, the young man smiled broadly, his amber eyes bright.
“Word arrived that the fighting’s finally dying down. You’ve had a long road, Brother.”
Varkas appraised him closely, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
During his brief stop at Raedgo Castle the previous year, Lucas had been away on an expedition to the northeast, meaning they had not met face-to-face in nearly twelve months.
Varkas swung down from Tork’s back and clapped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, surprised to find the boy now stood nearly as tall as he did.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Been under the sun every day—burnt me black as pitch.”
Lucas grinned, gesturing playfully.
“Looks like you managed to avoid it yourself, Brother. Pale as a Northerner.”
Varkas let the joke slide, drawing the reins aside toward the edge of the thoroughfare to give the knights behind him room to file through.
As the company entered the city, his eyes swept over the checkpoint.
“Did anything out of the ordinary occur while I was away?”
“Nothing that wasn’t in the dispatches,” the young man said with a careless shrug. Yet an unfamiliar tension tightened around his otherwise bright features. Exhaling a heavy sigh, he added, “Though something may break soon. All on account of that beast my sister-in-law keeps…”
Lucas, letting his discontent slip into the open, caught Varkas’s cold stare and quickly corrected himself.
“…The beast Her Grace is keeping, I mean. The whole city is in an uproar over it.”
“The dispatch said my wife is suspected of heresy because of the creature,” Varkas said, his tone flat and unreadable.
Lucas cut him a sideways look, rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed again.
“The councilors exaggerated. If you want the truth… it’s more that they accuse her of inciting it.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Hardly anyone thinks Her Grace herself actually harbors heretical beliefs. It’s just that, because of the beast, common folk are starting to talk.”
Lucas spoke as though defending her.
Leading his mount slowly down the street, Varkas cast him a narrowed glance.
“What talk, exactly?”
“Well…”
Lucas hesitated, trying to find the right words before they tumbled out all at once.
“Her Grace already draws eyes wherever she goes, doesn’t she? And then she took to wandering around with a wolf the size of a bull… It was such a striking sight that some began connecting her with the old legend of Tiramer.”
Varkas, who had assumed the friction amounted to nothing more than the Cathedral taking issue with a tamed beast, halted in his tracks.
“You mean they think my wife is an earth spirit?”
“Scarcely anyone believes it literally,” Lucas said, voice wavering slightly. “Still… they claim Her Grace is fanning the embers of the old Eastern cults. At least, that’s how the Great Cathedral sees it.”
Varkas turned a cold stare toward the spires of the Great Cathedral looming over the city’s western quarter.
Watching his face, Lucas pressed on in a measured voice.
“The dispute turned sharp this spring, right after Her Grace showed herself at the festival beyond the gates. The moment the townspeople saw the Grand Duchess with that wolf, an uproar broke out—they treated it like the coming of Tiramer in the flesh. Ever since, everyone’s been talking about the young, fair Grand Duchess and her giant wolf. Naturally, that…”
“…must have rattled the priests,” Varkas finished coldly.
Lucas nodded.
“Not just the priesthood. Most of the devout flock in Kalmor believe Her Grace is deliberately leading simple folk astray. On top of that, a mauled body was discovered north of Raedgo Castle not long ago, and word spread that the Grand Duchess’s pet did it. The mood in the city could hardly be worse.”
Varkas, having listened without interruption, let out a quiet, mocking breath.
“Are travelers attacked by wild beasts beyond the walls such a rarity? On what evidence do they spread such rumors?”
“It isn’t entirely without basis. The dead woman was…”
Lucas cut himself off and checked his surroundings.
The main thoroughfare was thick with onlookers who had gathered to catch sight of their lord and his knights returning after six months away. Though the distance and chatter made eavesdropping impossible, Lucas dropped his voice to a low murmur.
“The body was one of Her Grace’s attendants. You know… that healing sorceress she brought from the Imperial Palace.”
Varkas went rigid. A quiet, middle-aged sorceress who had long tended to his wife rose immediately in his mind.
Lucas’s voice sank heavier still.
“Her throat was ripped out by teeth. Naturally, suspicion fell straight onto Her Grace’s wolf. But Her Grace shielded it so fiercely that no one could carry out a proper inquest.”
“Were there no witnesses to what happened to the sorceress?”
Lucas shook his head.
“It seems she slipped out of the castle alone before dawn and met her end. Not a single soul claims to have seen her that morning.”
Varkas said nothing, staring blankly ahead at Raedgo Castle standing over the northern edge of the city. From everything Lucas described, every circumstance seemed aligned against his wife.
Pressing two fingers against his brow, Varkas took up the reins again and moved through the crowded street.
“We return to the castle first. I will see this beast for myself.”
Lucas and the knights fell in behind him in silence.
Cutting swiftly through the busy quarters, Varkas led his horse across the wide square. Following the gentle rise of ramps and stone stairs toward the north, the moat surrounding Raedgo Castle came into view. He crossed the drawbridge and rode beneath the high, arched gatehouse.
“Welcome back, Your Grace!”
As he entered the courtyard adjoining the training grounds, hundreds of retainers hurried out to receive him.
Varkas did not spare them a second glance, striding straight for the main hall. The pale sandstone citadel loomed above, stark against the brilliant sky.
“Your journey must have been arduous, Your Grace. You arrive sooner than expected.”
Just as Varkas handed Tork’s reins to a groom and prepared to enter the hall, the white-haired head butler rushed out, trailed by household servants.
Varkas cut the pleasantries short and went straight to the point.
“Where is the Grand Duchess?”
The head butler swallowed dryly, his voice wavering.
“H-Her Grace departed for the spring near midday.”
Poised on the threshold of the great hall, Varkas stopped and looked down at the man.
“The spring?”
“The wolf Her Grace keeps suffers terribly in the heat… She has gone down to the spring every day since summer began. She ought to return within the hour.”
Varkas turned his gaze toward the pathway winding behind the keep.
“How many attendants accompanied her?”
“Well… Her Grace dislikes having maids attend her, so…”
“How many?”
“Only the guards you posted to her follow at a distance,” Lucas broke in, answering for the faltering butler.
Varkas’s brow drew tight. That meant she was handling a beast the size of a bull entirely on her own.
Raking a hand through his hair, Varkas turned toward the rear gardens.
“Do not follow me.”
Checking Lucas, who had moved to accompany him as a matter of course, Varkas set off down the path with long, purposeful strides.
Beyond the small garden at the rear of the castle lay a stand of woods thick with brush and trees. Spotting the guards lounging against the trunks ahead, Varkas’s eyes sharpened.
He had ordered them never to take their eyes off her. Finding them leaning about with their backs turned, keeping well away from the woman they were tasked to guard, fell dangerously short of their duty.
His jaw clenched as he closed the distance.
Just then, a clear, ringing laugh drifted on the breeze.
Varkas froze as though struck, then slowly turned his head.
Early summer sunlight streamed bright through the dense canopy. There, amidst the scattered fragments of light, she was laughing.
END