Chapter 81
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 81
"My apologies. I was short-sighted."
The man immediately bowed his head. Barkas entered his bedroom without offering a response.
A squire quickly followed him in, but with a light wave of his hand, Barkas dismissed him. He sat, personally removing his armor and clothes and arranging them neatly before sinking into the bath his servants had prepared.
Having spent the entire day on horseback, his skin felt thick with the scent of dust and stable.
After scrubbing away the grime in the clear water, he pulled on a dark navy doublet and wool trousers. As he stood before the mirror in boots that reached his shins, a sharp, neatly groomed silhouette met his eyes.
His body, forged through years of rigorous training, was perfectly conditioned to maintain a flawless posture at a moment’s notice. He stared at the man in the mirror—who looked as though he had been sculpted by the Imperial Court itself—for a long moment before picking up his overcoat and leaving the room.
Just as he was heading toward the hall, he spotted a woman descending the stairs. Recognizing her as the healer dispatched from the Imperial Palace, Barkas immediately called out to her.
"Why are you coming down from the upper floor?"
The woman hurriedly bowed her head.
"Her Highness the Imperial Princess summoned me..."
He narrowed his eyes. He had expected Thalia to ignore his instructions, but seeing the proof sparked a flicker of irritation.
"How is Her Highness’s condition?" he asked, his tone stiff.
"Perhaps thanks to a full day of rest, she looked better than usual. Her fever has broken completely. However, the pain in her leg seems to persist..."
"Did you burn the sleep herb again?"
Whether she sensed the accusation in his voice or not, the healer’s face visibly stiffened. She spoke as if offering an excuse.
"Her Highness suffers from severe chronic pain. Using sleep herb is the best measure to alleviate her suffering."
He scrutinized the woman’s face with a sharp gaze.
Could he truly trust a healer provided by the Empress? The Empress was a woman who treated her own daughter like a pawn; there was no telling what schemes she might be brewing behind the scenes.
He studied the woman intently, as if gauging her true intentions, before giving a sharp nod to signal she could leave. The woman bowed and descended the stairs at a pace that was neither fast nor slow.
Barkas watched her back with an observant eye before heading toward Thalia’s bedroom. When he knocked on the heavy door, a muffled voice drifted out.
"Come in."
The moment he stepped inside, cool air brushed against his cheeks. He knit his brows. Contrary to his expectation that the room would be filled with heavy smoke, the spacious bedroom held only the faint scent of flowers and dried grass.
Calming his turbulent thoughts, he scanned the cluttered room. Eventually, he discovered a small shadow sitting on the windowsill.
Barkas was about to call her name but suddenly fell silent. He didn’t know what it was that had blocked the words in his throat.
The woman, bathed in the fading light of the sunset, turned her head toward him. As their eyes met, an inexplicable anxiety took hold of him.
He tugged at the collar of his doublet and strode toward her. After firmly locking the wide-open window, he pressed the back of his hand against her pale, glowing cheek. It felt as cold as ice.
"How long have you been like this?"
"I’ve been doing what?"
"I am asking how long you have been exposing yourself to the cold wind."
Her eyes narrowed. As a pout filled her small face, she looked years younger than her actual age. She swatted his hand away and spoke bluntly.
"I don’t know. Who cares?"
"What if your fever returns?"
"Then it returns. So what?"
He grimaced. Whenever he spoke with this woman, strange impulses reared their heads. He felt a desire to make her listen even if he had to use force, while simultaneously feeling a bizarre urge to coax and soothe her.
He took a step back to shake off those peculiar emotions. Seeing him put some distance between them, the tension seemed to drain from her stiff shoulders.
Thalia, hugging her knees with both arms, looked him up and down before continuing sullenly.
"More importantly, why are you dressed up like that?"
"Guests have arrived, so I plan to hold a simple banquet."
"Guests?"
"The regional lords of the East. I was told they came to make an impression on me."
"Hmph..."
She made a soft, derisive sound while fiddling with the hem of his overcoat. He looked down silently at her hand. After picking at his sleeve for a long while, she spoke hesitantly.
"Shouldn’t I attend as well?"
He lifted his gaze again. Her face, beautiful to an almost eerie degree, filled his vision.
She was a woman who stimulated the emotions of others to an unusual extent. Even he, whose senses were mostly restrained, felt such strange impulses—it was obvious without even looking what kind of chaos she would cause among the lords.
He paused for a moment before slowly shaking his head. He couldn’t keep her hidden forever, but he wanted to keep her out of the public eye as much as possible, at least until he had a perfect grasp on the leadership of the East.
"There is no need for that. I will explain things to the vassals, so Your Highness should focus on resting for the time being."
"...It’s because you’re ashamed of me, isn’t it?"
Suddenly, her voice grew sharp. Barkas, who was about to turn toward the door, paused and looked down at her. She bit her lip, which was covered in scabs, and spoke mockingly.
"Do you already regret taking a cripple as your wife?"
He clenched his fists tight. If he didn’t, he felt he might do something terrible. Taking a long breath, Barkas looked down at her with a cold gaze, waiting for his sharp emotions to subside. At that, the hostility in her eyes became even more distinct. In an instant, the words he had been suppressing finally scraped up his throat.
"Sometimes I get confused. Whether the things you say are meant to stab me, or to wound yourself..."
Her mouth stiffened as if she were at a loss for words. He looked down silently at her face, which was thick with distrust, before letting out a faint sigh and turning away.
"I will send for a maid, so please dress yourself. If you truly wish to attend, I will not stop you."
"Forget it," Thalia snapped coldly, hopping down from the windowsill. "I feel like my fever will go up again if I stay with you any longer."
With that, she stumbled toward the bed and threw herself onto the sheets. Barkas watched her for a moment before finally leaving the room.
As he descended the stairs and stepped into the Great Banquet Hall, hundreds of gazes flew toward him. They rose from their seats in unison.
"You have arrived, Young Lord."
One of the vassals positioned near the entrance offered a respectful bow. He acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod and slowly crossed the hall.
High-ranking nobles in extravagant attire and his own kinsmen occupied the tables at the center of the banquet hall, while men in much simpler clothing were seated around them, surrounding the center.
As he passed them and reached the head table, the faint melody flowing through the hall abruptly stopped. He scanned the assembly slowly before offering a formal greeting.
"Thank you for traveling such a long way. I hope you will understand if the hospitality is lacking."
"Lacking? Not at all! This is the finest wine I’ve had in my entire life."
One of the men sitting around the long table shouted boisterously. Barkas turned his gaze toward him. Embroidered on the flamboyant overcoat wrapped around the man’s body was the Black Bear Crest—the symbol of House Gutvan, who dominated the southeastern region.
The man held his wine glass high and continued in a provocative tone.
"The gifts bestowed by His Imperial Majesty are indeed different. I don’t know if lowly fellows like us should even dare to touch them. Is this not the reward the Young Lord received for a lifetime of devotion?"
The man, shouting in a theatrical tone, gulped down the wine and slammed the glass down with a loud bang.
"When I think of it as the sweat and tears the Young Lord has shed, this fine wine tastes quite bitter."
A heavy silence descended upon the hall. Barkas leaned back against his chair and twisted the corner of his mouth.
"It seems you’ve come looking for a fight."