Chapter 77
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 77
Lucas wore a look of utter exasperation.
Ever since the news of Barkas’s marriage broke, his younger sister seemed to have lost her mind entirely.
Laina, who had long harbored a secret, idealized admiration for the relationship between Aila and Barkas, had spun a delusional romance novel inside her head. In her version of the story, Thalia Roem Guirta was the villainess of the century—a woman who had ruthlessly torn a pair of tragic lovers apart.
Laina’s eyes burned with the same fierce fighting spirit she had shown when she first followed the cavalry out to hunt a manticore.
“Just you wait. I’ll make that woman leave this place on her own two feet. We’re going to rescue our brother from that witch of House Taren!”
Lucas wondered what on earth had blinded her to make Barkas Raedgo Sieorkan look like someone in need of a rescue. Sometimes, he genuinely wanted to crack open her skull just to see what was inside.
He swallowed a sigh and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair.
“Well, good luck with that.”
“Are you seriously going to back out and leave me to do this alone?”
“Didn’t you see how tightly Brother was shielding her earlier? I have no intention of getting on the future Grand Duke’s bad side with useless antics.”
“That’s all just her cunning trickery! Haven’t you heard the rumors? They say the women of House Taren use wicked sorcery to steal men’s souls!” Laina was practically frothing at the mouth. “She must have played the fragile victim to win his sympathy! Brother just couldn’t bring himself to turn a blind eye to her pathetic state!”
Lucas shook his head. It was useless to talk to Laina when she was like this. As he let out a deep sigh and stepped toward the door, Laina shrieked at him.
“Where are you going?!”
“To ride my horse! I need some fresh air before I suffocate.”
“You can’t! Don’t you know Brother’s welcome banquet is starting soon?”
He ignored her and slipped out of the room.
The Great Hall was a chaotic hive of servants moving luggage. Pale-faced workers, clearly from the Central Region, were stacking massive crates like mountains on one side of the hall, while the servants of Raedgo Castle opened them to inventory the contents. Even a cursory glance at the treasures inside was enough to make one’s eyes bulge.
I guess the rumors about her being incredibly extravagant were true.
He scanned the crates overflowing with fine silks and various ornaments before heading out through the back door. He intended to go straight to the stables, but he noticed the warriors of the Wolfram Lancers—those who had escorted Barkas—huddled together in the backyard training ground.
Spotting a familiar face among them, Lucas changed course.
“Tyron!”
A man lounging in a loose tunka, nursing a cup of wine, looked back over his shoulder.
“Ah, Second Young Master.” He wiped his lips and spoke in his characteristically slow, drawling tone. “Have you been well?”
“Well enough to be bored to death.” Lucas plopped down on the stone steps of the training ground, snatched the man’s bottle, and took a long swig. “How’s the situation in the capital?”
“Chaotic, as expected.” The man didn’t seem offended by Lucas’s rudeness; he simply shrugged and continued calmly. “It seems Marquis Oristein and the majority of the conservative nobles are shaken by this marriage. Lord Sieorkan had quite a hard time keeping them quiet.”
“What about the First Imperial Princess and the Crown Prince?”
“I didn’t even get to see the First Imperial Princess. They say she’s been shut in her room, refusing to come out. It’s understandable, considering her engagement was broken right before the wedding... She probably won’t show her face in public until a new match is settled. As for the Crown Prince...” Tyron crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, searching for the right words. “He was fuming with rage, but surprisingly, he’s accepting the situation quite calmly. He likely decided it’s more beneficial to play along with the marriage and strengthen ties rather than becoming a total enemy of Lord Sieorkan.”
Lucas tilted his head at the unexpected news.
“That’s surprising. I thought he’d try to start a war with the East to make Brother pay for betraying his sister... The rumors say he’s obsessed with anything involving the First Imperial Princess.”
Lucas frowned, recalling the harsh impression the Crown Prince had left on him during his visit to the capital years ago. Tyron let out a short laugh.
“Even a pig will tap on an abacus when power is at stake. It’s true the Crown Prince dotes on his sister, but surely she isn’t more precious to him than the throne. In fact, he seemed more worried about his support base being shaken than the humiliation his sister suffered.”
Lucas grimaced. He had been educated at the Academy in the capital for several years, but he could never quite adjust to the values of the Central nobles. In the East, the bonds of blood were much tighter. Laina was a nuisance of a sister, but if she had been jilted like that, they would have gone to war without hesitation to avenge the insult.
Suddenly, he felt a flicker of pity for the First Imperial Princess. She had been betrayed not only by her fiancé but even by the brother she trusted.
Perhaps Laina was right. Maybe the women with Taren blood possessed a dangerous magic that made men abandon their loyalty. He recalled the deep blue eyes he had seen beneath the hood. Those eyes, flickering with a faint warmth, had looked like living jewels. No—even the finest lapis lazuli couldn’t compare to them.
His attempt to pull back her hood had been purely instinctive. The moment their eyes met, his hand had moved of its own accord.
He asked in a slightly strained voice, “What’s the Second Imperial Princess like?”
A deep crease formed between Tyron’s brows. After a brief pause, he replied, “I’ve only spoken with her once, so I don’t know much. However, it’s clear she’s not an ordinary personality, just as the rumors say.”
“Worse than Laina?”
“Surely she couldn’t be worse than the Young Lady,” Tyron joked. However, as if he wasn’t entirely sure himself, faint wrinkles appeared around his eyes.
Lucas felt his curiosity swell. What kind of person was she to make this man—who was as slippery as an eel—scowl like that?
“What about her looks? Is she really that beautiful?”
At the blunt question, Tyron, who was reaching back for the bottle, paused and gave Lucas a searching look. For some reason, Lucas felt a prickle of guilt. He avoided the man’s gaze, scuffing the ground with his heel.
After watching him for a moment, Tyron drained the last drop of wine and spoke indifferently.
“Enough to be a problem.” Then, with a thoughtful expression, he added meaningfully, “That’s probably why Lord Sieorkan keeps her so well-hidden.”
*
When she opened her eyes, a thick darkness had settled over the room.
Thalia gasped for air, clutching her throat. It felt as if someone were strangling her. Scratching at her skin to peel away the formless fingers, Thalia crawled toward the head of the bed and yanked the bell pull.
A moment later, the door swung open.
Thalia turned her head. As a familiar silhouette entered her vision, her constricted airway suddenly cleared. It felt as if her body had recognized him before her mind even could.
“Did you have a cramp in your leg?” Barkas asked. He had lit a lamp by her bedside and was now leaning over her.
Thalia took a long, deep breath and shook her head. “I was just thirsty, so I called for a maid.”
His eyes narrowed. He clearly didn’t believe her. Barkas placed a hand on her forehead to check for a fever, then gave a blunt command to the maids who arrived late.
“Go get medicine from the healer.”
Then, he poured a glass of water himself and handed it to her. She felt a flash of annoyance at how he openly ignored her words, but she was grateful he had come running, so she took the glass without a word.
After a sip of cold water, her hazy mind cleared. She set the glass down and scanned him with eyes that had lost their feverish heat.
Barkas was wearing a form-fitting tunic with a loose coat draped over it—the traditional garb of the Eastern men. The unfamiliar attire made her stomach flutter for a moment. She stole a glance at the silhouette of his chest, visible through the gap in his clothes, before lowering her eyes with a look of discomfort.
“What is that outfit? It’s strange.”
“...It is traditional Eastern clothing.”
“Don’t wear that from now on. It doesn’t suit you.”
In truth, it suited him terribly well. Seeing a man who always wore such sharp, impeccable attire in something so loose it looked like it could be unraveled at any moment felt... provocative. For some reason, it bothered her.
She spoke firmly. “It looks incredibly undignified. If you walk around like that, your vassals will take you lightly. So don’t wear it.”
Barkas stared down at her face for a moment before slowly nodding.
“I understand.”