199
From the moment he rose from his sickbed, he threw himself into state affairs without a single day of rest.
He had to make his presence seen everywhere, vital and robust, if he was to suppress the ugly rumors gathering around Talia.
Carrying on as though nothing had happened, Varkas reorganized the subjugation squads and set out on patrol across the East to restore public order. At the same time, he directed all his resources toward hunting down heretical assemblies and tracking the raiders’ movements.
Once his initial plan to quietly purge the Zram had unraveled, he had changed course, pivoting to a full-scale crackdown.
Whether through the sheer weight of his iron fist or not, the raiders who had run rampant grew noticeably scarce, and the clandestine gatherings of the Great Spirit Faith scattered across the East began to die down.
In truth, the heretical roots had merely burrowed deeper underground rather than being torn out entirely, but he had at least managed to smother the immediate turmoil.
“It seems the heresy hunters will be returning to the capital before long.”
Beirof set a report on his desk, his tone tinged with relief.
Varkas picked up the yellowed parchment and skimmed it. It detailed the movements of the Cathedral Guardians over the past several weeks.
“The holy knights seem to believe the heretics fled into the frozen wastes. They have evidently concluded that further pursuit is futile.”
Varkas brushed a finger against his lips, lost in thought.
Once granted permission to investigate, the Cathedral Guardians had combed through Kalmor without hesitation before turning their attention westward.
They had judged that the heretics were most likely hiding in the Nederan Mountains, which divided the eastern territories from the central plains.
After lingering there to scour the borderlands, the inquisitors had tracked their quarry north. In the end, however, they had failed to lay hands on the fugitives.
“Shall we begin recalling the surveillance units we attached to them?”
Beirof broached the question tentatively.
Varkas pressed a hand to his throbbing brow, repeatedly opening and closing his stiff fingers.
With manpower stretched thin, keeping elite Wolfram knights trailing behind the Cathedral Guardians was an obvious waste of strength.
Moreover, inquiries through various channels had verified Roman Talis’s credentials. There was no real need for further watchfulness.
Even so, his mind refused to let down its guard.
It was closer to instinct—the primal wariness one felt when another predator prowled into one’s territory.
After staring at the report for a long time, Varkas finally shook his head.
“Tell them to maintain surveillance until those men have completely left the East.”
“Your Grace, is there truly any need to go so far…?”
“Order has returned to the East for the most part. Sparing a few men for a couple more weeks will hardly invite ruin.”
Varkas dismissed his aide’s misgivings with a flat wave of his hand and stood.
Having plowed through the mountain of official business, it was time to tend to the afternoon schedule.
He walked out of the office, turning over his next destination in his mind, when a shrill cry pierced the air.
Freezing in the corridor, Varkas glanced out the window. In the courtyard leading toward the rear gardens, his half sister was screeching at someone.
Varkas went rigid when he saw the figure standing before her: his wife.
Draped in a pitch-black robe of unknown origin, she was staring at Raina with the look of someone half out of her mind.
Varkas’s face hardened. He turned from the window, hurried down the stairs, and emerged through the back door, where Raina’s piercing voice struck him anew.
“Confess! What wicked plot are you hatching this time? The entire castle is in an uproar because of you, and yet you dare…!”
“What is going on here?”
Raina, who had been haranguing his wife with fierce indignation, jumped and fell silent.
Varkas crossed the open ground in a single long stride and came to a halt beside them.
“I asked what is going on.”
Raina flinched for a second, but she quickly recovered her brazen posture and leveled a finger at Talia.
“See for yourself! This woman was trying to slip out of the castle again! She must be trying to guide the raiders back inside!”
Varkas cast an icy glare at his sister before slowly shifting his gaze to his wife. She had grown painfully hollow over the past few weeks.
Looking as though she might shatter at a touch, she cast him a timid, shrinking glance.
“That’s not it. Khan is gone…”
She picked at her chapped lips with fingernails stained dark with bruises, her words tumbling out in a breathless panic.
“I haven’t seen Khan since dawn. So… I was only trying to find him.”
Varkas, standing stiff and looking down at her, drew a slow, heavy breath.
A hot, suffocating fury climbed up his spine to the crown of his head.
He could not even name what had made him so angry.
Was it her wretched, wasted frame? Or was his stomach churning because she stood entirely defenseless before a mere girl, her young sister-in-law?
Or perhaps it was the sheer lunacy of trying to slip away in that frail, tottering state, looking ready to collapse at any second.
Swallowing whatever was churning in his chest, he spoke with flat coldness.
“Did my order of confinement seem like a jest to you?”
She flinched and dropped her gaze.
He could see the tremor running through the fingertips clutching her robe. For some reason, the sight of her cowering only made his blood boil hotter.
She was a woman who had always held her chin high, no matter the circumstance.
Seeing the person who used to raise her voice even when caught red-handed now trembling like a condemned criminal stirred a sick, indefinable revulsion inside him.
Varkas jerked his head away, as if to throw off the sensation, and barked at the guards standing awkwardly at the perimeter.
“What in the world were you doing while the Grand Duchess slipped out of her chambers?”
“F-forgive us, Your Grace!”
The guards hastily bowed their heads.
Varkas fixed them with a chilling look and jerked his chin.
“Escort her back to her chambers this instant. If this happens again, your heads will roll.”
The blood drained from the soldiers’ faces, and they rushed forward to flank his wife.
As they moved to take her, she bit her lip in sheer desperation and suddenly caught Varkas by the forearm.
“Wait, please. I’ll only be gone a moment. I know Khan got out of the castle. I have to find him…”
He stood rigid, looking down at her pleading face.
It felt as if fire were spreading outward from the point where her fingers dug into him.
Rejecting that warmth, he coldly shook off her hand and snapped at the soldiers.
“What are you waiting for? Take her away.”
The hesitant guards closed in once more.
Talia looked up at him with hollow eyes before finally turning around, defeated.
He deliberately looked away from her retreating figure, only to catch Raina smirking with open delight.
At the sight of his sister standing so smugly under the bright sun, a sudden, murderous impulse seized him—a urge to reach out and snap her neck.
“Raina Raedgo Shearkan.”
Perhaps catching the edge of fury in his voice, the smirk died on her face.
Varkas closed the distance between them, his voice dropping low with venom.
“Does the title of Grand Duchess mean nothing to you?”
Raina, who had been staring up at him in terror, soon arched her brows in petulant outrage.
“Grand Duchess? What Grand Duchess! That woman is a vile witch! She poisoned Brother’s cup and let the raiders into our home! Why are you still defending someone like her? Because of her…!”
END