Chapter 230
The sight of soldiers carrying torches as they patrolled around the buildings came into view.
Perhaps because most of the garrison had been deployed to the outer walls in preparation for a night assault, security inside the inner fortress was comparatively lax. Even so, heavily armed guards still stood watch around the keep.
Keeping low behind a row of supply wagons, Varkas observed the guards' patrol routes before making his way toward the citadel towering at the very center of the fortress.
Just then, a group of men carrying torches poured out of one of the buildings.
Concealing himself in the darkness, Varkas studied them carefully.
As expected of northerners, the knights clad in heavy armor all possessed massive physiques as they crossed the drill yard toward the main gate.
Among them, Varkas spotted a towering man with pale blond hair resembling a lion's mane.
Even from that distance, he recognized him instantly.
Bjorn Blodar Heimdal.
'...Has he sensed that something is wrong?'
Watching the man's retreating figure for a moment, Varkas soon circled around to the rear of the keep.
He had to find Gareth before security grew any tighter.
Keeping himself hidden in the deep shadows, he swiftly followed the wall.
Before long, he discovered a small side door behind a stone building connected to the keep.
He grasped the handle and gave it a gentle pull.
There was slight resistance.
It seemed to be barred from the inside, though the lock itself didn't appear especially sturdy.
Wrapping his cloak around the locking mechanism, he yanked hard.
Crack.
With a splintering sound, the entire handle tore away together with a section of the wooden door.
The noise had been fairly loud, but fortunately it didn't seem to attract anyone's attention.
He carefully opened the door and stepped inside.
Judging by the stale odor of grain mixed with the pungent smell of salted meat, the room served as a food storage warehouse.
After briefly surveying the spacious chamber stacked high with dried bread, hams, cheese, and other provisions, Varkas quietly slipped into the dim corridor beyond.
At that moment, he heard footsteps nearby.
Hiding behind a pillar, he looked toward the source of the sound.
A huge man clad in heavy armor was descending the stairs together with a middle-aged man of much smaller build.
Their voices echoed faintly through the silent corridor.
“How much longer are we supposed to tolerate that spoiled brat? If the Imperial Family has no intention of paying a ransom, then we should cut off his head at once and finally avenge His Grace!”
“I understand how you feel,” the middle-aged man replied with quiet authority, “but we cannot kill the Crown Prince yet. He still has value as a hostage.”
“It isn't only the Imperial Family that wishes for the Crown Prince's safe return. Behind him stand numerous conservative nobles led by Marquis Oristein. In addition, those Imperial traditionalists who revere Emperor Darian will also demand that the Crown Prince be rescued. If we stall until they begin shaping public opinion, even the Emperor will have no choice but to negotiate.”
“But will the Empress simply stand by and watch? That woman won't let an opportunity like this slip away.”
“The more openly that witch involves herself, the fiercer the conservatives' opposition will become. The traditionalists' hatred toward the Empress runs deeper than you can imagine. A large part of the Noble Alliance's willingness to tolerate that brat stems from their hostility toward House Taren.”
The middle-aged man calmly dismissed the objection before patting the giant lightly on the shoulder.
“So don't conclude that negotiations have already failed. I know it's unpleasant, but indulge that brat's whims just a little longer.”
Without giving the man any chance to complain further, he crossed the hall and walked out.
The giant glared after him with obvious dissatisfaction before spitting onto the floor and climbing the stairs once again with heavy footsteps.
Varkas immediately followed.
The man climbed to the third floor in just a few long strides before opening the door at the end of the corridor and stepping outside.
After waiting a short moment, Varkas approached the same doorway.
A torch-lit passage stretched before him, leading to a watchtower at the far end.
Estimating the building's height, he crossed the stone gallery and cautiously stepped through the arched entrance.
Just as he was about to climb the stairs, he heard someone sharply inhale behind him.
Varkas reacted instantly.
Grabbing the soldier halfway up the staircase by the head, he slammed him into the wall.
At the same time, he triggered the mechanism on his wrist guard, releasing the concealed dagger.
He struck the man's throat repeatedly.
Blood gushed from the severed carotid artery, flooding into the soldier's airway.
Only a few seconds later, the choking man went limp.
As Varkas dragged the corpse toward the outside of the tower, a rough voice thundered from above.
“I-Intruder! There's an intrud—!”
A spearman hurriedly rushed down the stairs.
Varkas immediately drew the longsword at his waist and slashed diagonally.
The blade flashed like lightning.
It sliced through the soldier's shoulder before exiting through the opposite side of his torso.
The body split cleanly into two pieces.
Blood sprayed everywhere as the corpse tumbled down the staircase.
The guards who had just rushed into the tower froze in horror.
Varkas did not waste that fleeting moment.
Driving his blood-soaked sword straight into the chest of the nearest soldier, he shoved the corpse tumbling down the stairs.
Two spearmen charging upward were knocked off their feet by their falling comrade and crashed down the staircase.
But there was no time to catch his breath.
The commotion had already drawn more soldiers.
'Looks like slipping out quietly is no longer an option.'
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Varkas sprinted up the stairs toward the upper levels.
Judging by the number of guards stationed there, the tower housed a considerable garrison.
Huge soldiers wielding battle axes thundered down the spiral stone staircase.
Varkas casually deflected the enormous axe descending toward his head like a bolt of lightning before severing its wielder's neck in a single stroke.
As the massive corpse toppled toward him, he twisted aside and smashed the pommel of his sword into the face of the soldier behind it.
Thud.
Dark blood burst through the gaps in the man's helmet.
Instinctively dropping his weapon, the soldier clutched his shattered face with both hands and screamed.
Without hesitation, Varkas brought his sword down and ended his suffering.
But before he could climb another step, fresh enemies surged toward him.
Driving his sword into the body of a charging soldier, he forced his way upward.
The unfortunate man became an unwilling human shield, writhing violently while letting out agonized screams.
The sight made the surrounding soldiers recoil.
Unable to strike through their own comrade, they hesitated.
In that instant, Varkas withdrew his sword with blinding speed and cut down their throats one after another.
Three enemies fell in moments.
Yet there was still no opening.
This time, ranks of spearmen were flooding upward from the lower floors.
Varkas tightened both hands around the blood-slick hilt of his sword.
Before long, not only the inner fortress guards but the regular army would arrive as well.
Even he could not fight them all alone.
Should I attempt to escape now?
As he hesitated for the briefest moment, the deep blast of a war horn echoed in the distance.
He looked out the window.
The assault had begun exactly as planned.
Soldiers carrying torches rushed en masse toward the fortress gates.
Varkas immediately settled back into a fighting stance.
The main force would be fully occupied dealing with the Imperial Army for a while.
This was his chance.
Without the slightest hesitation, he swung his sword at the soldier charging toward him.
* * *
“You expect me to drink this garbage?!”
Gareth snatched up the goblet and hurled it at the wall.
Thud.
Dark red wine splattered across the stone, running down like streaks of fresh blood.
Watching the scene, a northern warrior fixed Gareth with a piercing crimson glare.
Determined not to show even the slightest sign of intimidation, Gareth deliberately lifted his chin.
“Bring me proper wine. Immediately!”
“Your Highness.”
The man spoke through clenched teeth.
“I believe you're under a serious misunderstanding. You're a prisoner.”
The giant—standing nearly seven crevets tall, roughly two hundred ten centimeters—leaned in until his face was inches away, exhaling heavily.
“You're not some honored guest who deserves special treatment. If you don't learn to behave, we'll make you eat our piss and shit instead of wine.”
“H-How dare... a mere low-ranking noble... speak to the Crown Prince of the Empire...”
Gareth's face flushed crimson with rage.
The northerner, standing with his arms crossed, let out an open sneer.
“Whether you're the Crown Prince or the Crown Prince's grandfather, a prisoner is still a prisoner. Your life belongs to us now.”
He seized Gareth's shoulder with a rough hand.
“So unless you want to suffer, keep your damned mouth shut.”
Gareth clenched his teeth so hard it felt as though his jaw would shatter.
He wanted nothing more than to snap this filthy traitor's neck.
But barehanded, he had no hope of overpowering such a giant.
His fists tightened until his knuckles turned white.
Mocking him with a contemptuous look, the guard slowly walked over to the door and dropped heavily into a velvet chair.
It seemed he intended to remain in the room and watch Gareth throughout the night.
Ever since Gareth had been caught trying to escape several times, the northerners had never left him alone for even a moment.
With a furious kick, Gareth overturned the table.
Plates and silverware crashed noisily across the floor.
The guard didn't even blink.
As though such tantrums had become routine, he calmly continued oiling his greatsword.
Grinding broken glass beneath his boots in a fit of frustration, Gareth eventually exhausted himself and leaned against the windowsill.
Looking outside, he saw the Imperial Army encamped beyond the fortress walls.
At once, fury and dread twisted painfully inside his stomach.
If they had truly come to rescue him, ransom negotiations should have begun immediately.
Instead, the army that had arrived earlier that day had clearly deployed in full assault formation.
In the end...
Varkas had betrayed him.
Gareth ground his teeth.
I knew this would happen.
Ever since that bastard married Talia...
No.
Perhaps he had sensed it even before then.
Ever since that man, who had always been indifferent to everything, had begun reacting only to her...