Chapter 182
The heat coursing through his body still hadn't subsided, but at least his reason had barely managed to regain control.
Drawing in a deep breath, Varkas gave a slight nod toward the crowd that had gathered.
"Nothing happened. Everyone, stand down."
If it had been up to him, he would have ordered them to drag that beast out of the room immediately.
But he had made a promise to her.
He had no choice but to endure it.
Swallowing a sigh, he turned back toward the bedroom.
Just then, as the crowd slowly began to disperse, the chief steward timidly stepped forward.
"Y-Your Grace... I have something to report..."
Varkas cast him a somewhat irritated glance, and the middle-aged man immediately flinched and fell silent.
Gathering what little patience he had left, Varkas asked,
"What is it?"
"T-the Guildmaster of the Silver Flame Alliance has been waiting for several hours. He said he has something urgent to report to Your Grace..."
Seeing Varkas's brow crease, the steward's voice faltered.
Varkas let out a long breath.
"Tell him I'll be there shortly."
The steward hurried away, and Varkas stepped back into the bedroom.
By then, Talia was sitting on the edge of the bed, gently soothing the restless wolf that continued whining for attention.
Watching them for a long moment, Varkas finally spoke in a low, heavy voice.
"Something urgent has come up. I'll have to leave for a while. Please get some rest."
"I'll be waiting..."
Just as he turned to leave, her tightly restrained voice stopped him in his tracks.
He paused and looked back.
Her neck was tinged with a deep blush.
Still absently stroking the wolf's pointed ears, she forced herself to finish her sentence.
"Come back here afterward."
Then, resting her cheek against the wolf's neck, she quietly gazed at him.
Varkas stared motionlessly into those transparent, jewel-like eyes before slowly nodding.
A faint smile spread across her lips.
At that moment, something unfamiliar stirred within his heart.
It was only much later that he realized what that feeling had been.
Hope.
* * *
"I sincerely apologize for arriving without sending word in advance. The matter was simply too urgent..."
The moment Varkas entered the reception room, the man who had been anxiously pacing beside the window spoke in a rush.
Skipping even the customary greeting, Varkas sat down and asked,
"So. What have you found?"
"Following Your Grace's orders, we've been keeping the surviving supporters of the ducal house under close surveillance. During that time, we obtained several important pieces of information. Here..."
The northerner awkwardly settled into the chair opposite him and produced a worn, crumpled ledger from inside his coat.
Taking it, Varkas carefully examined its contents.
A deep furrow formed between his brows.
The yellowed pages contained records of enormous transactions involving grain, iron ore, and even military horses.
The moment he recognized the seal stamped beside the entries, a dry laugh escaped him.
It belonged to an eastern noble house he knew well.
"It appears that several nobles along the Valto border have been secretly collaborating with the North. I believed Your Grace needed to know immediately."
"...Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
His gratitude sounded almost painfully formal.
Rolling up the ledger and gripping it tightly in one hand, Varkas rose.
"I'll have a room prepared for you. Stay as long as you wish and get some rest."
"There's one more thing."
Just as Varkas was about to leave, the man hurriedly called after him.
"Recently... Bjorn Blodar Heimdal has vanished."
Varkas frowned.
Bjorn was the central figure behind the rebellion and was believed to be holding out with his father inside Amasek.
If he had disappeared...
That meant the rebels had broken through the encirclement.
Varkas looked at him skeptically.
"Amasek is under complete blockade. Isn't it possible he's simply hiding inside the city?"
"He is absolutely not the sort of man who would quietly hole himself up inside a fortress. Remaining unseen for this long is completely unnatural."
The northerner wiped the cold sweat from his brow with a handkerchief before continuing in a trembling voice.
"It's possible... no, I'm certain... he escaped from Amasek long ago. By now he's undoubtedly gathering his scattered forces and preparing a counterattack."
"You're worrying too much."
Varkas answered with a faint sneer.
"The tide has already turned. A great number of the Northern Alliance nobles have abandoned the rebellion, and most of the hardliners have already been removed. Even if he really did escape, he can no longer pose any significant threat."
"Those are the words of someone who truly doesn't know him."
The man raised his voice in frustration.
"Bjorn isn't someone who will simply accept defeat. Somewhere out there, he's preparing something terrifying. You must track him down as quickly as possible."
The absolute certainty in his tone made Varkas's eyebrows twitch.
Everything he knew about Bjorn amounted to this:
He possessed extraordinary swordsmanship.
He enjoyed overwhelming support among the nobles of the Northern Alliance.
He was an exceptional military strategist.
Beyond that, Varkas knew almost nothing about the man himself.
Still...
Anyone capable of leading such a reckless war could hardly be considered sane.
In the end, he nodded.
"Very well. I'll take immediate action."
The man's shoulders sagged in obvious relief.
Leaving the reception room at once, Varkas headed for his study.
Before anything else, he needed to verify the authenticity of the information Lowell Draven had delivered.
He was not naive enough to blindly trust the words of a man who had served as a double agent.
Taking a sheet of parchment from his desk, Varkas immediately began drafting orders instructing an investigation into the lords governing the territories bordering Valto.
The letter was addressed to Daren.
If a small military detachment were dispatched under the pretext of purchasing military supplies, they could observe the local lords without arousing suspicion.
After adding several detailed instructions, Varkas sealed the letter with wax and handed it to a courier.
By then, night had completely fallen.
Quickly organizing the papers on his desk, Varkas left the study without delay.
Descending the stairs at a brisk pace, he found the guards still standing watch outside the bedroom.
After dismissing them, he knocked gently on the door.
No answer came.
After waiting for quite some time, he finally reached for the handle.
Stepping into the quiet bedroom illuminated by flickering lamplight, a heavy, stale scent greeted him.
He immediately realized its source.
A small brazier beside the window was releasing faint wisps of smoke.
Did she burn sleeping herb?
Had the pain in her leg grown worse?
He hurried to the bedside and pulled back the canopy.
Instead of his wife, what first filled his vision was a massive gray beast sprawled across most of the bed.
Silently glaring at the deeply sleeping wolf, he then shifted his gaze to his wife, who lay curled on her side beside it.
She appeared to be fast asleep as well.
Letting out a helpless sigh, Varkas sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.
Then he heard a sleepy murmur.
"...You're finally back?"
Still half-asleep, she stretched out one arm toward him.
"Take him out of here already. I only just managed to get him to fall asleep."
Varkas stared blankly at his drowsy wife for a moment before finally bending down.
Sliding an arm beneath her waist, he gently lifted her warm body.
The wolf, limp as though dead asleep, suddenly kicked its legs.
Varkas froze instantly.
Apparently it had merely been dreaming.
After letting out a low rumble, the wolf settled back into stillness.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Only then did he realize how utterly ridiculous this situation was, and a quiet laugh escaped him.
The moment of self-mockery didn't last long.
"Let's hurry before the sleeping herb wears off."
Prompted by his wife's whisper, he rose without hesitation.
Taking the cloak hanging on the wall, he carefully wrapped it around her, covering the woman clad only in a thin nightgown from head to toe.
Quietly leaving the room, he stepped into the softly lit corridor overlooking the broad staircase.
After a brief moment's thought, he turned and headed upstairs.
He could have taken her back to the room she had previously occupied, but the maids would almost certainly interrupt them.
Instead, he entered the bedroom adjoining his own study.