Chapter 207
It did not take long before the enormous shadow vanished completely from sight.
Varkas pulled on the reins, slowing his horse.
There was no need to rush.
The beast was already a trapped rat.
Mounted warriors had spread out in every direction, and the wolf had suffered wounds to vital areas. No matter how desperately it struggled, it wouldn't get far.
He took a torch from his saddlebag and lit it.
As the flames illuminated the forest floor, scattered drops of blood came into view.
Broken branches snapped by its massive body and deep claw marks gouged into the earth were also plainly visible.
It no longer even had the strength to erase its own tracks.
Following the trail, Varkas guided his horse forward at a measured pace.
The deeper he ventured into the forest, the thicker and more abundant the blood became.
The violent escape had reopened its wounds.
The hooked hunting arrowheads used for extermination were designed to burrow deeper into flesh the more the prey struggled.
'...It must have severed an artery.'
Following the uneven trail of footprints, Varkas finally spotted a large pool of blood soaking into the ground and brought his horse to a halt.
With that much blood loss, it had undoubtedly collapsed somewhere nearby.
He dismounted and surveyed the surroundings with sharp eyes.
An icy wind swept through the straight white trunks of the birch trees like blades.
Feeling something cold brush against his cheek, Varkas looked up.
The torchlight reflected faintly from tiny ice crystals drifting through the air.
It was the season's first snow.
He stared blankly upward for a long moment.
Then he realized another scent had mixed with the cutting wind.
As though drawn by something unseen, he slowly turned his head.
Between the pale birches stood a dark shape.
He stepped closer.
There, stretched across the forest floor, lay the dire wolf.
His gaze settled upon its broad chest, rising and falling with labored breaths.
Everything around the arrows embedded in its body was soaked crimson.
It was astonishing that it remained alive after losing so much blood.
Slowly, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword.
Even if he simply left it here, it would not survive much longer.
But he needed to end its life himself.
Drawing the blade, he slowly approached the wolf's head.
Only then did the heavy eyelids lift.
The moment Varkas met those pale blue eyes, his feet stopped of their own accord.
Despair.
Grief.
Pain.
Resentment.
They churned unmistakably within the beast's wet pupils.
At that instant, her desperate plea echoed inside his mind.
"You'll understand if you just look into Khan's eyes. Khan is our son. Our son who never even got to take his first breath has come back to life!"
Varkas consciously tightened his stiff fingers around the sword.
It's all nonsense.
Nothing but the ramblings of a woman lost in superstition.
He repeated those words to himself as he slowly raised the blade.
The wolf gazed quietly at the sword hanging over its head with eyes filled only with resignation.
A white snowflake drifted down onto its pale blue eye.
The tiny crystal melted almost instantly, trickling down the corner of its eye.
As though it were shedding tears.
Varkas stared silently at the sight.
Then—
He brought the sword down.
* * *
The hunting party returned to Laedgo Castle just as the blue light of dawn spread across the land.
The mounted warriors, exhausted after searching the forest throughout the night, trudged through the castle gates.
The guards on watch and the servants hurried into the courtyard to greet them.
Several retainers were among them.
Edgar, captain of the cavalry squadron, crossed the training yard with hurried steps before carefully speaking to the Grand Ducal Heir.
"Your Grace... were you injured at all?"
Varkas dismounted and answered flatly.
"I'm unharmed."
"And... the wolf?"
At the anxious question, the corners of Varkas's mouth stiffened almost imperceptibly.
When no answer came, the expressions of the head butler and the mounted warriors who had gathered to hear the outcome all hardened.
Then Beirof stepped forward.
"The hunt ended successfully. His Grace personally dealt with the wolf, so there's no need to worry anymore."
"Did you bring back its head?"
The sudden voice drew everyone's attention.
Modrian, dressed in ordinary clothes, was crossing the courtyard with several subordinates.
Open suspicion showed plainly on his face.
"Surely you didn't return empty-handed?"
It was obvious he suspected that the Grand Ducal Heir, always soft-hearted when it came to his wife, had secretly spared the beast and was lying about its death.
Varkas let out a quiet sigh before motioning with his chin.
Beirof immediately dragged a large leather sack from his saddle and dropped it before Modrian.
"See for yourself."
The old knight immediately untied the leather cord securing the sack.
A beast's severed head, drenched in dark red blood, rolled into view.
After examining it carefully with narrowed eyes, he shouted in satisfaction,
"Burn it in the center of the inner courtyard where everyone can see it!"
The gathered warriors erupted into furious cheers.
Varkas stood silently watching them for a moment before slowly turning away.
His legs felt as heavy as lead as he left the courtyard.
Beirof hurried after him.
"Your Grace... what punishment will Her Grace the Grand Duchess receive?"
Varkas stopped walking and looked back at his aide.
Beirof's shoulders stiffened before he continued firmly.
"If this is overlooked again, every one of the retainers will rise against you. Even if only to appease their anger, Her Grace the Grand Duchess must receive appropriate punishment."
Varkas answered nothing.
He simply resumed walking.
By then, the morning sun had brightened the entire castle.
Crossing the garden glazed white with the season's first frost, Varkas entered the Great Hall.
Suddenly—
His vision blurred.
He pressed a hand against his forehead.
He had barely slept properly for nearly half a month.
As if that weren't enough, he had ridden without rest for more than five consecutive days before spending the entire night searching the forest.
It was hardly surprising that his body had finally reached its limit.
Forcing his blurred vision to focus, he slowly climbed the stairs.
Upon reaching the second floor, Lucas's bedroom door came into view beyond the gallery railing.
He quietly watched the light spilling beneath the door for a moment.
Then he continued to the third floor.
Walking down the corridor, he stopped before her room.
The guards standing watch immediately bowed in unison.
He dismissed them before opening the door.
With the faint creak of old hinges, the bedroom bathed in pale blue morning light appeared before him.
Stepping inside, he found Talia sitting on the windowsill.
Her long hair hung loose around her shoulders.
She still wore the same thin dress she had worn the previous evening.
Varkas stared at her small back for a long moment.
Then, deliberately allowing his footsteps to echo, he crossed the room.
She remained utterly motionless.
As though she had become a lifeless statue.
Looking at the back of her head as she rested her forehead against the windowpane, he spoke in an emotionless voice.
"I am stripping Your Highness of every authority belonging to the Grand Duchess. Furthermore, until Lucas regains consciousness, you will reside in the detached residence."
She did not react.
She simply continued staring blankly out the window, her face devoid of all emotion.
Following her gaze without thinking, Varkas turned toward the courtyard.
His entire body went rigid.
Hundreds of soldiers had gathered in the center of the square around a blazing fire.
They threw something into the roaring crimson flames.
Thick black smoke immediately billowed upward.
A single tear rolled silently down Talia's face as she watched.
She did not even sob.
She cried in absolute silence, as though she had forgotten how.
Varkas looked at her rigidly for several moments.
Then he turned away.
Just as he was about to leave the room—
A hollow voice sounded behind him.
"I'll never forgive you."
Varkas slowly turned back.
She was looking directly at him.
Not a trace of emotion remained on her face.
Her abyss-like blue eyes glowed with terrifying stillness.
"Not even in death."
"I'll never forgive you for as long as I live."
Clear tears continued to stream down her cheeks without end.
Varkas silently held her gaze.
Then he turned his back once more...
...and walked out of the room.