Ch#83
But the man’s glistening pupils remained fixed on her face. He looked down at her with an expression that was a chaotic mix of confusion, rage, and a strange, feverish heat, then muttered under his breath.
“Just who the hell are you…?”
“Can’t you tell just by looking?”
Thalia replied with a sneer, tilting her chin up.
“I’m that ‘wicked-to-the-core illegitimate brat’ you were blathering about.”
The man’s face flushed a deep crimson. As the situation finally clicked into place, his eyes, which had been clouded with shock, regained their focus.
He let out a huff of hot breath, his voice rising with agitation.
“Even so, this is outrageous! I am a knight and a nobleman! Where in the world does one treat a noble like this…!”
“And where in the world is there a law that allows for the public insult of the Imperial Family?”
Thalia cut him off, her lips curling into a sharp twist.
“You’ve insulted an imperial princess in public and committed an act of insubordination against your future liege. You wouldn’t have a leg to stand on even if your head were taken for this, you know? You should be grateful it ended with a splash of wine.”
“I was merely offering candid advice born of my loyalty…!”
“Save the barking for the dogs.”
She pressed him relentlessly, her eyes gleaming with a venomous light.
“Loyalty? Candid advice? Don’t make me laugh. You were just barking out your frustrations at random.”
As if overwhelmed by the sheer malice she radiated, the man flinched and took a step back.
Thalia watched him with a mocking gaze, then spoke in that soft, melodic voice she used whenever she intended to get under someone’s skin.
“If you find Aila so tragic and pitiable, why don’t you run to her and offer your comfort yourself? Who knows? Perhaps the perfect princess, so adored by the entire Empire, might grant you her grace.”
She then scanned him slowly from head to toe before letting out a shallow, flippant laugh.
“No, wait—you won’t do. My sister is surprisingly picky about faces.”
The man’s face turned a violent, burning red.
Varkas watched in silence as the heat in the man’s eyes shifted into intense hostility.
Fascination fast-tracked into enmity; desire quickly replaced by rage. Most men reacted this way upon encountering her. With veins bulging in the whites of his eyes, the man leaned toward her as if ready to pounce at any moment.
He had been patient long enough.
Varkas pulled the hood over her head, then cupped the back of her small skull and drew her firmly against his chest. Thalia let out a startled gasp, her arms flailing against him.
Holding her tightly as she tried to pull away, he studied the man’s expression. Though the man fumed with humiliation, he seemed desperate—almost frantic—to snatch the woman from Varkas’s arms.
Grinding his teeth with wide, glaring eyes, the man shouted.
“Hand her over this instant! I cannot let such an insult pass!”
“And if you don’t let it pass, what then? Are you going to draw your sword against me? Or perhaps…”
Thalia, who had been shouting back at the man while trying to push Varkas’s hand away, suddenly fell silent. She seemed to have finally sensed the ominous atmosphere surrounding him.
Varkas carefully hid the face of the woman peering up at him under the hood, then observed the reaction of the crowd.
Most looked stunned, but not a few were watching with a mix of interest and curiosity. Of course, several others showed blatant hostility.
The plan to gradually earn the retainers’ submission and build a flawless foundation seemed to have already gone awry.
Swallowing a sigh, he turned his gaze back to the massive man.
“I find myself repeating my wife’s question. What do you intend to do if you don’t let it pass?”
“I must have an apology for the insult I have suffered!”
Varkas stroked his chin, pretending to consider the demand.
Alec Gutban was an influential figure with considerable power in the southeast. Among the Khan warriors who revered martial prowess, many would follow this man blindly.
Commanding a cavalry unit of hundreds of powerful warriors and having established a solid base as a local lord, he likely presumed he could handle a twenty-something greenhorn as he pleased.
The fact that he had come to cause such a scene as soon as Varkas returned was surely an attempt to seize the upper hand.
Varkas’s lips twisted.
“You insist on an apology?”
“I do! I demand a formal apology before everyone for insulting and mocking me!”
“What do you think?”
Varkas looked down and posed the question to Thalia.
“Do you have any intention of granting that request?”
A look of betrayal immediately shot back at him. Under the light of the chandeliers, the deep blue irises that always seemed to scrape at his very depths shimmered.
“Never. I’d rather bite off my own tongue!”
“There’s your answer.”
When he turned his dry gaze back to the man, he saw a murky malice blooming within those bloodshot eyes.
The man spat out his words.
“In that case, Young Family Head, you must apologize on your wife’s behalf. No matter what, I will have recompense for the insult I’ve endured.”
Sharp intakes of breath could be heard from all around. Even those who had sought to test him seemed taken aback by the excessive nature of the demand.
Varkas paused for a moment before slowly opening his mouth. Just then, an urgent hand reached out to stop him.
Looking down, Varkas saw her pale face and knit his brows. Thalia gripped his arm tightly, her voice cracking with urgency.
“Don’t do it. If you apologize, I’ll never forgive you!”
That churning sensation returned to his gut. Previously, he had thought the feeling was close to annoyance. But now, a thought crossed his mind: perhaps it wasn’t that at all.
He pried her hand away and stepped slowly toward the man. The man’s eyes remained fixed on her. Blocking that gaze, Varkas spoke softly to the face reeking of strong wine.
“We are people of the East, are we not? If there is something you want, you must take it by force.”
“What does that mean…?”
A look of deep suspicion crossed the man’s huffing face. Varkas added calmly.
“Let us settle this in the traditional way. We shall duel. If you win, I will offer a formal apology before everyone.”
A violent stir swept through the banquet hall.
Contrary to the expectation that he would jump at the proposal immediately, the man hesitated, sending a searching look Varkas’s way. It occurred to Varkas that half of this man’s aggressive behavior might be a front.
After watching him with cunning eyes, the man finally spoke.
“Do you even understand what a duel implies? A duel in this land is of a different breed than the petty games played in the Imperial Palace. To us, a duel means a desperate struggle where lives are staked.”
Thalia let out a ragged breath and yanked hard on his coat. Ignoring her, he replied in a nonchalant tone.
“So, are you afraid?”
Thick veins popped out on the man’s broad forehead. After scanning Varkas with blatant contempt, the man eventually let out a scoff.
“Your spirit, at least, is worthy of an Easterner.”
“Your answer?”
“Fine. I accept the duel.”
As soon as the man’s answer fell, the hall erupted in a roar of murmurs.
Varkas gestured toward Daren, who stood looking dazed and bewildered by the sudden turn of events.
“Prepare the horses and armor.”
“The sun has already set. If we wait until daybreak tomorrow…”
“What is the point of dragging it out until then?”
Cutting Daren off, Varkas looked up at the man provocatively.
“The Khan people learn how to fight on horseback before they can even walk. Does the setting sun pose a problem for us?”
“None at all,” the man snarled back. “Hey! Get my armor and weapons ready at once!”
“Sir Gutban, please calm yourself for now and let’s discuss this tomorrow…”
When a young man, appearing to be an aide, tried to intervene urgently, the man struck him across the face with his fist.
“Don’t make me say it twice!”
Clutching his bleeding nose, the young man scrambled out of the banquet hall.
A feverish excitement began to permeate the hall. The man, too, was visibly worked up. He spoke, chewing over every syllable.
“The duel will be held before everyone. If I win, you will press your head into the dirt and apologize on the spot. For a match where lives are on the line, shouldn’t there be at least that much of a reward?”
“Va—Varkas!”
Thalia, who had been frozen by the uncontrollable escalation, stepped in front of him.
He finally turned his gaze to her. Thalia whispered in a tiny, shrinking voice.
“I—I’ll just apologize… I’ll do it, so… don’t do anything reckless.”
The watery quality of her voice clawed mercilessly at his insides. He pulled her robe closer to hide her face even more thoroughly, then looked up at the man with eyes stripped of emotion.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
The man’s smile deepened. It was the face of a man certain of his victory.
Alec Gutban licked his lips like a bear before its prey and asked, “What will you demand if you win, Young Family Head?”
Just then, servants rushed into the hall carrying armor. Varkas took a gauntlet from a nimble-footed boy and tilted his head. His reply sounded dry even to his own ears.
“I have nothing I wish to demand from you.”
Slipping his hand into the iron glove, Varkas added slowly.
“Because if I win, you will never be able to speak again.”
