Chapter 222
Feeling disgusted by his own reaction, Varkas straightened up.
Before he could take another step, someone blocked his path.
“Your Grace, you've traveled a long way and must be exhausted. Wouldn't it be best to rest before anything else?”
Varkas looked down coldly at the man who had so deliberately placed himself between Talia and him.
Dressed in neat civilian clothes, Edrick Rubon stood with one hand over his chest, watching Varkas's expression with obvious tension.
The sight of him behaving as though he were protecting her from Varkas stirred an almost absurd feeling inside him, but Varkas suppressed the irritation boiling within and turned away.
He walked past the woman standing as rigidly as an ice sculpture and crossed the Great Hall.
As soon as he entered his bedchamber, the Chamberlain who had followed him inside to attend to him spoke cautiously.
“Your Grace, is there anything you require to help you rest?”
“Prepare water for a bath and bring me a change of clothes.”
The moment the order was given, the man bowed respectfully and quietly withdrew.
As the heavy sound of the door closing echoed through the room, Varkas removed his coat, draping it carelessly over the back of a chair before walking toward the window.
He drew back the curtain.
The rear garden stretched out before him, patches of snow still lingering beneath the early spring sky.
His eyes soon found a familiar figure.
Resting his temple against the glass, he watched her.
Talia was walking slowly along the garden path.
Two maids and Edrick Rubon stayed close behind her, seemingly ready to support her should her weakened legs give way.
Edrick looked at her with visible concern and said something.
Talia frowned as though mildly annoyed.
Yet for the briefest instant, a faint smile brushed across her lips.
Varkas stared unblinkingly at that gentle profile.
Then he heard something tear.
Looking up in surprise, he realized he had unconsciously ripped the curtain from its fastening.
Running a rough hand through his hair, he stepped away from the window.
Just then, servants entered carrying a bathtub filled with steaming water.
With the help of his attendant, Varkas removed his armor.
He stripped off the clothes stained with sweat and dust and lowered himself into the hot bath.
It was the first proper bath he had enjoyed in over half a month.
Yet his mood refused to improve.
Resting his head against the edge of the tub, he stared at the ceiling, where deep shadows gathered.
Why did he feel so bitter?
The woman who had once been unable to control her rage, who had repeatedly harmed herself, had finally found peace.
He ought to feel relieved.
Compared to the days when she had wasted away, barricaded herself inside a dark room, and lashed out in madness, this was unquestionably an encouraging change.
Even the relentless hatred she had directed toward him seemed to have faded.
At least now they would no longer waste themselves on endless, exhausting arguments.
Repeating those thoughts to himself, Varkas scooped up water with both hands and washed his face.
When he finally stepped out of the bath, an attendant waiting behind the folding screen approached with a towel and began drying the water from his back.
Varkas brushed away the bothersome hands, pulled on a linen shirt and simple cotton trousers, then sank heavily into a velvet chair.
At that moment, a rough voice mixed with the clatter of armor came from beyond the door.
“Brother, may I come in for a moment?”
Without even looking up, Varkas answered,
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Lucas entered.
Varkas quietly looked his younger brother over.
After two seasons had passed, Lucas appeared to have fully regained his strength.
Healthy bronze color had returned to his skin.
Yet in stark contrast to his vigorous body, a heavy gloom lingered across his face.
Watching him silently, Varkas asked in his usual blunt tone,
“What is it?”
“I came because I have a favor to ask.”
Lucas spoke stiffly.
Varkas casually motioned with his chin.
“Go on.”
Even after receiving permission, Lucas remained silent for quite some time.
Moistening his lips nervously, he finally spoke.
“I'd like you to entrust me with managing the northern frontier.”
Varkas had just picked up a wine bottle to refill his glass.
At the unexpected request, his hand stopped.
Narrowing his eyes, he asked,
“Why?”
“You told me... that I needed to develop my administrative abilities. And right now there aren't enough nobles to govern the northern frontier... I thought it would be a good opportunity.”
Lucas kept his eyes lowered as he answered calmly.
Varkas watched him intently before setting the bottle back onto the table.
“Has all your memory returned?”
For an instant, something like a dark shadow crossed Lucas's face.
After wetting his dry lips, he slowly shook his head.
“Not completely. Only scattered fragments come back to me from time to time.”
Holding the wineglass near his lips, Varkas quietly studied his brother.
“The new lord of Tarlin has already been appointed. It's too late to change that.”
“It doesn't have to be Tarlin. Any territory in that region would be fine...”
“You're asking me to make the second son of the Grand Ducal House the administrator of some insignificant frontier village?”
Lucas's lips pressed tightly together.
He lowered his eyes to the floor again, remaining silent for a long while.
Then he finally looked up.
“In that case... send me to the northeastern frontier. If you give me command of the external patrol forces, I can deal with the unresolved Zram issue—”
“Your determination to make yourself useful is commendable.”
After taking a sip of the strong wine, Varkas continued calmly,
“But the timing couldn't be worse.”
“You heard about my injuries, didn't you? The vassals are deeply worried that I might die in battle without leaving an heir. Until this war is over, I want you to remain quietly at Laedgo Castle.”
“But you've already returned safely, Brother. And the war will end soon...”
“It hasn't ended yet. There's no guarantee the situation won't suddenly change again like it did before.”
Leaning against the armrest, Varkas slowly exhaled.
“Wait until next year. Once the civil war is truly over, I'll grant you suitable lands. I've told you this before. If both you and I are constantly riding into battle while there isn't even a proper successor, the vassals will rise up together.”
“...”
“If you understand, then you may leave.”
Despite the unmistakable dismissal, Lucas remained where he stood.
Varkas lifted his eyes toward him.
“What now?”
“I understand your reasoning completely. But... I no longer want to remain in Kalmor. If you're worried that putting me in command of a punitive force would only make the vassals more anxious... then please allow me to stay in the southern frontier for the time being.”
A deep crease formed between Varkas's brows.
“Why are you so determined to leave this place?”
“That's...”
Lucas hesitated for a long time before finally answering.
“As long as I remain in Kalmor, I'll never stop being treated like an immature young master. I'm growing tired of everyone treating me like a patient who constantly needs looking after.”
He muttered the complaint before adding more cautiously,
“And... I think it would also be better for... well... my sister-in-law. I don't feel right watching her continue to be blamed for something I barely even remember.”
“Who is blaming her?”
Varkas set his wineglass down with a sharp click before asking quietly.
Lucas looked momentarily flustered before attempting to brush it aside.
“It's not that anyone openly criticizes her. It's just... people whisper about her behind her back.”
“So who, exactly, is carelessly wagging their tongue?”
Lucas lowered his eyes, avoiding his brother's gaze.
That troubled silence was answer enough.
It was almost certainly Raina and the maids who served her personally.
Running a hand through his hair, still damp from the bath, Varkas leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh.
“I understand. I'll find a suitable post for you before long.”
Even after hearing that his request had been granted, Lucas showed no sign of relief.
Still wearing the same gloomy expression, he stared at the floor for another moment before giving a single respectful bow and quietly leaving the room.