Chapter 217
The man cast him a troubled look and answered in a voice weighed down with gravity.
"They said your aorta had ruptured. Had you arrived even a little later, not even the priests would have been able to save you."
Even after hearing that he had nearly lost his life, Varkas felt nothing in particular.
As though merely checking the condition of a tool, he raised one arm and repeatedly flexed and straightened the joints of his fingers before asking in an even tone,
"How goes the war?"
"We succeeded in retaking Amasek, but the campaign to eliminate the rebels has made little progress. We've confirmed that the Valto independence faction, led by Bjorn Blodar Heimdal, has established a new stronghold in Jotungar... however, the terrain is so treacherous that advancing an army into it is nearly impossible. At the moment, both sides remain at a standoff."
Varkas retraced the geography of the North in his mind.
Jotungar was the rugged mountain range stretching across the border between the North and the East. Its narrow, steep ravines intertwined like a labyrinth, making it nearly impossible for a large army to maintain formation while advancing. There could hardly be a better defensive position for waging a prolonged war against an enemy several times one's size.
'So they're planning to drag this out.'
Varkas recalled the crimson eyes that had glowed beneath the steel helmet.
The man was reckless and fearless, yet when it came to reading the flow of a battlefield, he possessed an almost frightening level of cold rationality.
Once the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Northern Noble Alliance had abandoned him, Bjorn had immediately rallied the people of Valto and rebuilt his forces. Varkas even suspected that the uprisings now erupting throughout Valto had been stirred up by Bjorn himself.
He must have calculated that if he could stall things for another year or two, the Empire would slowly begin to collapse from within.
At present, the Roem Imperial Family had forced the lords throughout the realm to contribute enormous numbers of troops in order to suppress the northern rebellion. If they demanded even more reinforcements, the nobility's resentment would reach a point of no return.
Eventually, the Imperial Family would have no choice but to offer a compromise.
'You've thought this through rather well.'
A dry chuckle escaped Varkas as he slowly sat upright.
This time, Daren did not stop him. He merely watched with an expression of exhausted resignation.
Ignoring the look, Varkas settled himself on the edge of the bed, exhaled deeply from his lungs, and asked,
"Where am I?"
"Dolakan Castle."
The answer came from the doorway.
Turning toward the voice, Varkas narrowed his eyes when he spotted the second son of House Bleston.
Without waiting for permission, the man strode into the room and continued smoothly,
"I suggested to the warriors of House Siorcan that they bring Your Grace here. The Imperial negotiating delegation and the High Priest of Osiria are both staying in this castle, so I judged it would be the best place for your treatment."
"...I'm in your debt."
At the perfunctory words of thanks, a faint smile appeared on the man's lips.
"It isn't something that deserves gratitude. Had Your Grace died here, our own plans would have come to nothing as well."
Daren frowned, watching the man with open suspicion. Apparently, he still hadn't revealed the proposal he had made to anyone else.
Varkas let out a mocking laugh.
"So that's why you brought me here. You're hoping I'll raise that proposal myself during the negotiations?"
"As you know, we are hardly in a position to bring it up ourselves. If Your Grace were to speak first, matters would proceed far more smoothly."
The corner of Varkas's mouth twisted.
It seemed House Bleston intended to make this marriage an indispensable condition for concluding the peace treaty.
"You seem rather impatient."
"The war has gone on for nearly three years. With the entire North being reduced to ruins, how could we possibly afford not to be?"
"If you truly wished to protect Valto, you shouldn't have plotted rebellion in the first place."
"Everyone is capable of making mistakes."
A bitter smile briefly crossed the man's face.
"What matters is not the past, but the future before us. House Bleston has decided it is time to bring this wretched war to an end. If necessary, we are fully prepared to eliminate Bjorn Blodar Heimdal with our own hands."
"..."
"Surely Your Grace wishes to end this war as soon as possible as well."
Varkas offered no reply.
After staring at him for a long moment, the man sighed softly and finally took a step back.
"I do not expect Your Grace to appear at the negotiating table immediately. For now, please focus on recovering your health."
After placing a hand over his chest in a formal salute, the man quietly left the room.
The instant the door clicked shut, Daren spoke.
"What exactly did that man propose?"
"He asked me to recommend a daughter of his house as the future Crown Princess."
Taking the glass of water from the bedside shelf and wetting his throat, Varkas answered matter-of-factly.
"It seems they want insurance that the Imperial Family won't turn against them once the peace treaty is signed."
Daren's mouth fell open. The shamelessness of House Bleston clearly left him speechless. Yet, being a man of unwavering pragmatism, he quickly calculated the advantages such a proposal would bring.
"At present, it would be the most peaceful way to end the civil war. It would also ease the resentment of the people in the North."
Varkas let out a weary sigh.
"If His Highness the Crown Prince accepts it willingly, then yes."
"He has every reason to."
A stubborn resolve suddenly settled over Daren's face.
"The Crown Prince bears considerable responsibility for the popular uprising in Valto. He sowed those seeds himself, so it is only right that he reap the harvest."
Recognizing the undisguised resentment in his voice, Varkas raised one eyebrow.
Most of the eastern nobility, themselves descendants of House Siorcan, had always held Gareth in quiet favor. But the reckless course he had pursued throughout the war seemed to have gradually worn away that goodwill.
Daren continued coldly,
"The Grand Duke of the East cannot spend the rest of his life cleaning up the Imperial Family's messes. Once this marriage alliance is secured, Your Grace should return home."
A faint laugh escaped Varkas.
"So now you're telling me to defy His Majesty's orders?"
"Your Grace very nearly lost your life."
Looking him over slowly, Daren spoke in a subdued voice.
"If His Majesty possesses even the slightest conscience, he cannot possibly send the Grand Duke back onto the battlefield after this."
"..."
"It is time for you to rest. Ever since becoming Grand Duke, you haven't had a single moment to catch your breath."
For one of the rare times in his life, Varkas found himself at a loss for words.
Leaving him only with the advice to think it over carefully, Daren departed from the bedchamber.
Not long afterward, several priests arrived to examine his condition.
While they coated his wounds with an unfamiliar medicine and wrapped fresh bandages around them, Varkas reclined against one side of the bed, watching the dying sunlight.
Once the treatment was finished, an elderly servant lit a small brazier and burned medicinal herbs said to ease pain.
It was an unnecessary measure, but Varkas made no effort to stop him.
Breathing in the heavy, bitter smoke, he thought back to the dream he had seen while unconscious.
The image of her smiling brightly amid a beautiful landscape returned to him with startling clarity, tightening painfully beneath his ribs.
Then, just as quickly, that smile transformed into the face that had glared at him with eyes full of resentment.
A sudden question surfaced in his mind.
How had she reacted when she heard that he had been injured?
"Go... and never come back."
He quietly ran his fingers over the bandaged wound.
Will you be disappointed to see that I returned alive?
Or...
The wandering thread of his thoughts came to an abrupt halt, as though something had blocked it.
His eyes clouded by the effects of the medicine, he gazed at the sky as it slowly darkened before finally leaning his head against the wall in silent exhaustion.
Endless darkness was steadily swallowing the night.