Chapter 188
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Varkas leaned back against his chair as he felt the muscles in the back of his neck tighten.
Spread across the mahogany desk, nearly eight krevets wide (approximately 240 centimeters), were the list of cultists compiled by the investigation team and a map marking the locations suspected to be meeting points for the raiders.
After carefully reviewing them, Varkas looked toward Beyrof, seated across from him.
"When is the next rendezvous?"
"On the coming new moon. We believe a large gathering will take place at the abandoned mine outside Heswen."
"That's rather soon."
Thoughtfully stroking his chin, Varkas shifted his gaze to the list of apostates.
"Have we estimated the enemy's numbers?"
"According to the interrogations, anywhere from several hundred to several thousand... but the testimonies vary so much that they're difficult to trust."
Beyrof continued with a cynical smile.
"Uneducated commoners tend to mistake even a hundred men for a great army. Realistically, we estimate somewhere between two hundred fifty and three hundred."
Varkas let out a disbelieving laugh.
At that size, it could scarcely be called a mere band of brigands anymore. It was practically a military company.
Compared to the forces commanded by the Grand Duchy, it was insignificant.
The real problem was that the people of Zram had managed to organize an armed force in the very heart of the East.
There may be organizations like this scattered all over these lands.
Suppressing a heavy sigh, Varkas spoke in a firm tone.
"Contact the surrounding lords. We'll strike when they gather and eliminate them all at once."
"Will Your Grace command the operation personally?"
"Yes. The weeds that have taken root in my own front yard should be pulled out by my own hands."
His voice was cold as he slowly rose from his chair.
Just as he was about to leave the office, Beyrof cautiously spoke again.
"What are your intentions regarding the cultists?"
"For now, place them under surveillance."
Still gripping the doorknob, Varkas looked back over his shoulder.
"If we arrest them all now, word could reach the raiders. We'll wait for the proper moment before taking them by surprise."
"...There are quite a lot of them. The townspeople may react badly."
"That doesn't mean we can simply stand by and watch the cultists run rampant."
Varkas's reply was sharp.
"If we leave the apostates alone, the Central Church will eventually dispatch heretic hunters. Rather than falling into their hands and being torn limb from limb, they'll be far better off standing trial for heresy under the Eastern Church."
Unable to find a rebuttal, Beyrof fell silent.
Turning away from the troubled expression on his subordinate's face, Varkas left the barracks without another word.
A fine drizzle was falling over the training grounds.
Stepping out into the rain, he tried to organize the tangled thoughts filling his mind.
Since becoming part of the Empire, the people of the East had officially received baptism and lived as followers of the Imperial Orthodox Church.
Those who refused and insisted on remaining faithful to the Great Spirit Faith had been driven to the eastern frontier, where they survived as outcasts.
The fact that they had begun spreading their influence throughout the East once again might well be a warning that cracks were beginning to appear in the Empire's system of rule.
After the North... now the East is descending into chaos as well.
He roughly brushed his increasingly soaked hair back.
An overwhelming sense of futility washed over him, as though he were desperately trying to protect a sandcastle from the tide.
With darkened eyes fixed on the gray sky, Varkas slowly crossed the training grounds.
Passing through the garden heavy with the scent of wet earth, he entered the main castle.
A servant who had been lighting candles throughout the hall hurried over with a towel.
Accepting it, Varkas casually dried his hair before asking,
"Where is the Grand Duchess?"
"Her Highness has not yet returned."
Varkas stopped short and looked at the servant.
"You mean she went out?"
"I don't believe Her Highness left the castle. She mentioned she was going to visit the healer's cottage during the day, so she's probably still there..."
His brows furrowed.
He had heard that she visited the healer frequently, but ever since his return, he had never actually seen her remain away from the main castle for long.
"Where exactly is the healer's residence?"
"At the northern edge of Laedgo Castle's rear gardens."
Varkas immediately crossed the hall and exited through the back door.
Beyond the rain-soaked open grounds and the forest path shrouded in dark gray shadows lay the spring where he had reunited with her.
He paused briefly to look at the silver surface of the water rippling beneath the rain before continuing along the muddy path toward the castle walls.
Not long afterward, a neatly tended herb garden and a small stone building came into view.
Walking straight to the entrance, Varkas knocked firmly on the door.
A calm voice answered from inside.
"Please come in."
He immediately turned the handle.
The healer, who had been preparing medicine at her desk, jumped to her feet in surprise.
"Y-Your Grace... what brings you here...?"
"I heard my wife was here."
Varkas slowly surveyed the room.
It was surprisingly spacious.
A worktable stood neatly arranged beside shelves lined with hundreds of medicine bottles, while bundles of herbs hung drying from wooden racks.
His eyes moved across them one by one before stopping at the worn bed in the corner.
Talia lay there fast asleep, dressed in a thin summer dress of pale blue.
He silently looked down at her defenseless figure before his gaze shifted to the book lying carelessly beside her head.
It was an expensive leather-bound volume with the title Punishment embossed in gold across the cover.
Picking it up, Varkas quietly flipped through its pages.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
It was the memoir supposedly written by Elixer, the legendary hero from the Empire's founding era, after returning from witnessing Hell itself.
...Her taste in books never changes.
Even as a child, she had spent every waking hour devouring books with the darkest imaginable subjects.
Apparently adulthood had done nothing to cure that morbid fascination.
After reading a passage describing the wretched torment of sinners cast into Purgatory, Varkas calmly tossed the book into the brazier.
The healer let out a tiny cry as the priceless antique was swallowed by flames.
Varkas immediately shot her a warning glance.
Staring helplessly at the burning book, she hurriedly closed her mouth.
He turned his attention back to his wife.
She was sleeping so deeply that she hadn't stirred in the slightest, her breathing slow and even.
"Did she take a sleeping medicine?"
"Her legs ache especially badly whenever it rains, so... I gave Her Highness a somewhat stronger painkiller."
The healer answered in a hushed voice.
Varkas sighed softly before carefully lifting Talia into his arms.
"Where is the wolf?"
"K-Khan..."
The healer hesitated for a moment before moistening her dry lips.
Then, in a calmer voice, she continued,
"We temporarily confined him in the enclosure prepared beside the annex."
"The enclosure?"
One of Varkas's eyebrows arched.
Over the past several days, that wolf had refused to leave Talia's side even for a single moment.
And Talia herself had devoted extraordinary care and affection to the beast.
The decision struck him as thoroughly unexpected.
"Why did she suddenly decide that?"
"I... recently advised Her Highness that Khan's protective instincts toward her had become excessively strong."
Keeping her eyes lowered, the healer continued carefully.
"Most importantly... since Your Grace has returned, I suggested that perhaps it was time for Khan to begin learning to spend time apart from Her Highness. After hearing that... she decided that, at the very least, he should stay separately during the evenings."
For an instant, an unreadable tension settled around Varkas's mouth.