Chapter 184
He accepted a sheet of parchment and a quill from the secretary and quickly drafted an urgent letter.
"Select the two fastest senior knights and send one to His Highness the Crown Prince and the other to the lord of Dolakan Castle. There is no harm in strengthening their defenses in case of a surprise attack."
Once the parchment had been rolled up and sealed with wax, the page standing behind him carried it to Edgar, the Wolfram Cavalry squadron commander seated at the end of the long table.
Tucking the letter into his coat, the man asked carefully,
"Wouldn't it be better if we conducted our own investigation as well?"
"And where would we find the manpower for that?"
Before Varkas could answer, a middle-aged knight seated halfway down the left side clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"Security in the East is unstable as it is. We can't pull even more soldiers away because of an unverified rumor."
"I agree."
Varkas nodded calmly.
"We already have six thousand elite mounted warriors stationed in the north. There is no need to send any more. Hunting down the rebel leader is the Imperial Army's responsibility."
"Well, now that the war is drawing to a close, it's about time we focused on strengthening the East itself."
The moment he finished speaking, Modrian, an honorary knight seated on the right, cut in.
He had once served as the cavalry commander personally appointed by the previous Grand Duke and now acted as a military adviser after retiring from active service.
A faint smile rested on the ageless face of the veteran knight as he spoke in a gentle voice.
"Which brings me to another matter. What are Your Grace's plans regarding an heir?"
The abrupt change of subject made Varkas knit his brows.
The other knights, who had been listening with solemn expressions, also appeared taken aback by such an inappropriate topic for a military council.
Modrian, however, continued without the slightest concern.
"When discussing the stability of the territory, what could possibly be more important than the matter of succession?"
"Sir Modrian."
Lucas, who had remained silent until then, cut in sharply.
"This is practically a wartime situation. The rebel leader is still at large, and unrest is spreading across the East. Is this really the time to bring up such personal matters?"
"Personal?"
Modrian slowly shook his head.
"Preserving the bloodline is the very foundation upon which order in this land stands. If, heaven forbid, something were to happen to His Grace, who would inherit the East? Surely you don't wish to see this territory torn apart by disputes among relatives."
"My heir is Lucas Laedgo Siorcan."
Varkas answered without hesitation.
"Wasn't that already made perfectly clear before I departed for the campaign?"
"That was merely a temporary measure in case Your Grace fell on the battlefield."
Idly turning the tip of his quill between his fingers, Modrian continued in a voice that was gentle yet unmistakably sharp.
"The legitimate line of a noble house is meant to pass directly from parent to child. By the grace of the gods, Your Grace has returned safely. It is now your duty to produce a proper heir."
The elderly knight's gaze then shifted toward Lucas.
"Furthermore, I hope it is about time arrangements are made for Young Master Lucas and Lady Raina as well. Both have reached marriageable age, yet neither even has a betrothed..."
"I've heard enough!"
Lucas shot to his feet, his face flushing crimson.
"You're a military adviser, not a matchmaker! What kind of nonsense are you babbling about in the middle of a military council?"
"You're right. It's hardly an appropriate subject for this setting."
The old knight admitted it readily, leaning back in his chair with a long sigh.
"But the other vassals are too busy watching Your Grace's mood to dare speak. That leaves only this old man. None of the three direct members of the Grand Ducal family has any children. Naturally, all the vassals are worried about the future of the East."
"If you look hard enough, Young Master Lucas may already have children."
Baredon, who had been quietly sitting at the far end of the table, finally spoke as though he could no longer keep it to himself.
"Didn't he start chasing women like a madman when he was fifteen? There might be an illegitimate child hidden away somewhere..."
"You bastard—just because you've got a mouth—"
"Enough."
Pressing a hand to his forehead, Varkas spoke in a cold voice.
The noisy council chamber immediately fell into tense silence.
His gaze slowly swept across everyone present before settling on the elderly knight.
"I understand your concern for the future of the Grand Ducal House."
His tone remained calm.
"But you've gone a little too far. You're speaking as though I'm some old man with one foot already in the grave."
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but these are uncertain times. We must prepare for every possibility..."
"As you yourself said, I have only just returned from the battlefield."
Varkas interrupted him gently.
"To speak of the family line ending while the ruler who returned alive is sitting right in front of you is rather distasteful."
The old knight finally fell silent.
Varkas drove the point home.
"I intend to settle the matter of succession in due course. Until then, stop pressing the issue."
"May I take that to mean Your Grace intends to produce an heir through Her Grace the Grand Duchess?"
Varkas fixed him with a gaze as cold as ice.
"Must I report even what happens in my bedchamber to you?"
"..."
"I won't suddenly drop dead and throw the East into chaos, so spare me your presumptuous lectures."
The face of the respected elder of the East stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Watching him quietly, Varkas twisted the corner of his mouth into a faint smile.
"Or perhaps... are you planning to assassinate me?"
"Your Grace! How could you possibly say such a thing...!"
"I'm joking."
Varkas smiled mildly as he spoke in an easy tone.
"You seemed so worried about my death that I couldn't resist."
The old knight, who had been talking as smoothly as a seasoned serpent until then, finally kept his mouth shut.
Estimating the length of the candle burning beside them to measure the passing time, Varkas rose from his seat.
"It seems we've covered everything that required discussion. Let's adjourn."
One after another, the knights stood.
Crossing through them, Varkas caught up with Modrian just as the old knight stepped into the corridor.
His face was still somewhat stiff from their earlier exchange.
Pretending not to notice, Varkas spoke quietly.
"There's something I'd like to ask you."
"...Go ahead."
"Have you ever pressured my wife about producing an heir, the way you did me today?"
Modrian frowned in disbelief.
"Have you already forgotten that before leaving for the campaign, Your Grace surrounded the Grand Duchess with guards so thoroughly that every word spoken near her would inevitably reach your ears? Who would dare commit such an offense?"
Speaking with a trace of sarcasm, the old knight shook his head.
"And then there's that terrifying wolf. No one in this castle has the courage to approach Her Grace carelessly."
Varkas studied his face intently, as though weighing the truth of his words.
Then his voice softened.
"If my joke earlier offended you, I apologize. I intend to begin looking for suitable marriage partners for Lucas and Raina soon. Just give me a little time."
Caught completely off guard by the apology, Modrian blinked before clearing his throat.
"...Since Your Grace has spoken so plainly, this old servant has nothing more to add. Very well. I'll place my trust in you and wait."
After bowing respectfully, he departed the council hall at an unhurried pace.
As his figure disappeared into the distance, Lucas—who had been standing nearby listening blankly to their conversation—hurried over.
"Did you really mean what you just told that old man? You're actually going to arrange marriages for me and Raina...?"
"What are you so surprised about?"
Turning toward the exit of the outer fortress, Varkas answered flatly.
"Both you and Raina reached adulthood quite some time ago. It's far stranger that children of a distinguished house still have no betrothed."
"I'm only nineteen!"
Lucas protested.
"Raina won't even turn eighteen for another two months!"
"I'm not telling you to marry immediately. You'll become engaged first. The wedding can take place a year or two later."
"Please stop saying such horrifying things."
Lucas nearly shuddered in horror.
"I fully intend to enjoy another twenty years of bachelorhood!"
"Do I look soft enough to indulge such childish nonsense?"
Stopping in his tracks, Varkas looked down at him sharply.
Faced with that unyielding expression, Lucas let out a pitiful groan.
"You're serious?"
"Just as Modrian said, it's time to strengthen our house. Before long I'll give you a list of suitable candidates. Choose whichever lady appeals to you and begin courting her."
"And by 'suitable candidates,' you mean daughters of families that would benefit House Siorcan."
Lucas sneered.
Varkas looked at his younger half-brother with open irritation for objecting to something so self-evident.
"You're a member of the Grand Ducal House. Your marriage should naturally strengthen the family. That is the proper price for the privileges you've enjoyed."
"But you married the woman you wanted."
Varkas, who had been about to turn toward the stables, stopped in his tracks.