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After leaving the Grand Priest’s private residence, Varkas led his men straight out of the city gates.
Passing through the gently rolling hills, he reached the crest of a undulating ridge, where the villages scattered around the fortress walls came into view.
He began inspecting them one by one, starting with the largest. On the surface, they appeared completely peaceful, but there was no telling what lay beneath.
Village stewards and bailiffs tended to downplay troubles within their jurisdiction, while constables routinely looked the other way on petty corruption and small crimes. If heretical teachings had begun to spread among the inhabitants, as the Grand Priest claimed, they had most likely been hushed up until now.
“Question those familiar with the inner workings of each village and gather word. Send trustworthy independent investigators to uncover the truth about these cultists.”
“Do you believe the Grand Priest was telling the truth?”
Beirof, who had been following quietly behind him, asked with caution.
Varkas cast a measured gaze over the wooden houses lining the wide dirt road and the neatly squared plots of kitchen gardens.
He could feel the farmers weeding the furrows sneaking glances his way.
It was natural for commoners to fear their lord. Yet beyond mere fright, Varkas caught a sharp, vigilant guard in their eyes.
A dull throb pressed behind his temples from the strange tension hanging over the village, and his brow furrowed.
“There may be some exaggeration. Still, since the Grand Priest brought it up himself, it is unlikely to be mere empty rumor.”
Even if it were the rambling of an old man in his dotage, he had to play along.
The Grand Priest of the East held immense authority, governing a diocese so vast he was counted among the greatest high priests in the realm.
If that old man chose to brand the Grand Duchess a heretic, the matter could not be easily silenced. Above all, Gareth might seize on any suspicion of Talia’s apostasy and bare his teeth. It had to be snuffed out before word got beyond these walls.
“Station additional constables in every village and declare that all assemblies require prior authorization.”
Varkas turned his mount and added,
“I intend to form a subjugation force shortly to scour the regions around Kalmor. Issue the mobilization order to the cavalry.”
“Understood.”
After riding through even the small outlying settlements on the fringes, Varkas turned his horse back toward Raedgo Castle.
As he approached the fortress, its sand-colored walls rising across the wide fields and hills, the gatekeeper hauled up the portcullis without delay.
Passing under the great arched gateway, Varkas swung down from the saddle and addressed the soldiers standing in formation near the training grounds.
“Where is the Grand Duchess?”
One of the guards, his face stiff with discipline, answered.
“Her Grace is resting in the garden.”
Tossing his reins to an attendant who had hurried after him, Varkas cut straight across the parade ground.
He passed through the inner gate, and the sight of the garden, lush with dark green shrubs and blossoms, opened before him. Moving through the greenery with measured strides, Varkas stopped as his eyes found the back of Talia’s figure seated beneath a white marble pavilion.
As always, she had that massive beast beside her.
The woman, who had been murmuring steadily to the gray predator sprawled at her feet, turned her head as if sensing his approach.
Varkas, who had come to press her on the truth of what the Grand Priest had said, suddenly found himself striking empty air. A welcoming smile was blooming across her lips.
“Did the talk go well?”
Looking down at her radiant face, Varkas ended up swallowing his questions about the heresy.
He had no desire to spoil her mood by voicing such absurd suspicions.
“There will be no more sermons directed at Your Grace.”
“Was that all?”
she asked, scratching behind the wolf’s ear.
Hearing the cautious note of probing in her voice, Varkas narrowed his eyes.
What was she uneasy about? As he watched her with mounting wariness, a low growl rumbled from right beside her. Varkas reflexively shifted his gaze and frowned at the beast, which was festooned with flowers.
“You mustn’t do that.”
Talia scolded the wolf sternly, then added as if reading Varkas’s face, “He seems cross because I left him alone all morning. He is only throwing a fit; he doesn’t mean any harm.”
He gave no reply, merely staring down at the Dire Wolf.
Wreathed in garlands of woven roses and cornflowers with a necklace of Thousand-Hand Flowers around its neck, the wolf wore a look of unmistakable humiliation in its blue eyes.
Seemingly blind to this, she stroked its nape and said with evident pride, “Isn’t he adorable?”
He did not miss the slight twitch of the beast’s ears.
Its tail, which never rested when near its mistress, was tucked low, and with its ears pinned back, the creature looked no different from a sulking lapdog.
Taking in the sight, Varkas agreed flatly.
“Indeed.”
The wolf’s eyes flashed, as if it understood the word. He feigned ignorance and added, “If he walks around like that, people might be a little less terrified of him.”
“Right? I think I shall keep dressing him up this way from now on.”
In contrast to the wolf’s ears drooping even further, a relieved smile broke over her face.
It seemed she had gone to the trouble of dressing the beast in that ridiculous fashion just to show him.
The realization brought a tangled knot of feeling to his chest. She had genuinely feared he might try to tear the creature away from her by force.
A bitter taste lingering on his tongue, Varkas changed the subject.
“More importantly, there is a favor I must ask of Your Grace.”
“What is it?”
she asked, her smile fading.
After a brief pause, Varkas chose his words with care.
“I am told the wild tribes have grown restless around Kalmor. I would like you to refrain from leaving the castle until the marauders have been cleared out.”
“…Until when?”
The woman, who had been staring down at her wolf with shadowed blue eyes, asked cautiously.
Her arms were wound around the beast’s neck, almost without thinking. He looked at her, half-buried in the wolf’s massive frame, before parting his lips.
“It will not take long.”
“No more than two months. Khan grows miserable when he is shut inside the castle.”
Whether the beast was miserable or not did not concern him in the least. Her safety was the only thing that mattered.
Instead of voicing that thought, Varkas simply gave his consent.
“I shall see it done within that time.”
“…And after that, I may take Khan wherever I wish, yes?”
She looked up at him with earnest eyes.
After a moment’s hesitation, Varkas gave a nod. At that, a faint smile brushed her lips.
“Then that is fine.”
She added in a softer murmur, “I will trust you.”
In that instant, it felt as though an icy blade had grazed his heart.
‘I will never trust you again.’
The words she had once spat at him like a curse echoed in his ears. Shifting his gaze to shake them off, he swallowed hard against a tightening throat.
Despite the sudden turmoil churning within him, his voice emerged remarkably steady, even to his own ears.
“Early summer though it is, the evening air grows chill. Let us go inside.”
“…My legs hurt. I cannot walk.”
The woman, who had fallen silent while pleating the fabric of her skirt, suddenly complained.
Concern tightened his face.
“I shall summon the healing sorceress at once.”
He turned to head toward the main palace, but she caught his sleeve.
When he looked back, he was met with a pout.
“I don’t want to wait. I want to lie down in bed right now, so you carry me.”
He froze, looking down at her.
There was simply no other way to interpret her intention.
This woman was trying to seduce him.
But why?
Had the retainers been pressing her on the matter of an heir?
As that distasteful suspicion crossed his mind, she gave his sleeve another, firmer tug.
“Well? Do you not want to?”
END