Varkas answered in a calm voice and slowly straightened up.
Eyes clouded by fever followed him blankly. He gazed into them for a long moment, and just as he reluctantly turned to leave, slender fingertips caught on the edge of his sleeve.
"You have to come back quickly."
"..."
"If you're not here to take care of me, everything becomes terribly inconvenient."
He bit into the inside of his cheek with his molars.
Only after wetting his burning throat with blood and saliva did he manage to speak.
"...I'll return shortly. Try to get some sleep while I'm gone."
He gently brushed aside the few loose strands of her hair before quietly leaving the room.
As soon as he inhaled the cold air pooled in the corridor, the heat churning inside him—as though he had swallowed strong liquor—subsided a little.
Raking a hand roughly through his hair, he gave an order to the attendant waiting in the hallway.
"Prepare bathwater in the sauna. Lay out a fresh change of clothes as well."
He had only taken a few long strides before noticing how tightly his trousers were constricting him, and he let out an impatient sigh.
"Don't light the furnace. Tell them to prepare water as cold as ice."
* * *
Lowell Draven moistened his lips with the fine wine the servants had served him as he looked out over the entirety of Laedgo Castle through the window.
As befitted the stronghold of a family whose influence extended not only across the East but deep into both the North and the South, there wasn't a single vulnerable point to be seen.
Within the massive fortress enclosed by double walls stood rows of orderly stone buildings, each combining practicality with elegant craftsmanship. Between them ran crystal-clear canals woven together like a spider's web.
Stretching before the castle lay an enormous barracks and training grounds. Even at a glance, they appeared capable of housing well over a thousand soldiers. Including the Kalmor garrison, there were likely around five thousand troops permanently stationed in this region alone.
Adding the eastern garrisons and the frontier defense forces together, the Grand Duchy of Siorcan possessed somewhere between fifty-eight thousand and sixty thousand soldiers in total—enough to rival the Imperial Army itself.
Furthermore, since most of the Khan people trained in horsemanship from childhood, they could raise an even larger force if additional recruitment became necessary.
As Lowell examined the castle's internal layout, countless calculations ran through his mind. Then, suddenly sensing a chill, he whipped his head around.
Standing in the wide-open entrance of the reception room was a man draped in a gray fur-lined cloak over a black velvet tunic.
Lowell hurriedly placed a hand over his chest and bowed respectfully.
"Though belated, allow me to offer my greetings, Your Grace. I am Lowell Draven, Guildmaster of the Northern Merchants' Guild. Thank you for inviting me to your castle."
"Sit."
The man gave a slight nod before taking the seat at the end of the long table.
Lowell pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, carefully studying the young ruler of the East.
The man possessed a refined beauty worthy of a marble sculpture. Delicate features, flawless bone structure, and eyes of an extraordinarily rare color... Judging solely by appearances, he looked better suited to being a wandering bard or stage actor than a ruler.
Had Lowell not witnessed the man's monstrous strength with his own eyes, he would have dismissed him as nothing more than an exceptionally handsome young noble.
"Finished spying?"
The dry, low voice snapped Lowell back to reality. He forced an awkward smile to ease the uncomfortable silence.
"For a moment, I found myself captivated by Your Grace's remarkable appearance. Please forgive my discourtesy."
The corner of the man's lips curled upward.
It was such a smooth smile that it was almost unsettling.
"You have quite the silver tongue."
"Haha, a merchant's tongue is his livelihood, is it not? I meet distinguished people every day, so naturally I've become rather eloquent."
"Indeed. It seems you've been putting that tongue to use in quite a few places."
The man accepted a goblet from a young page who appeared to be his attendant and spoke in a relaxed tone.
Lowell forced a smile onto his face before it could stiffen completely.
"I... I'm afraid I don't understand what Your Grace means."
"I already know you've been selling information about the East's military strongholds to the North. Let's spare ourselves a pointless exchange of words."
Still idly swirling his wine, the man spoke with complete indifference.
Lowell swallowed dryly.
For a brief instant, he considered denying everything, but he suspected that would only provoke the young ruler's anger.
He decided to confront the matter directly.
"I am a northerner, Your Grace. Obeying my lord's commands is my duty."
"So you merely obeyed the orders of Bjorn Blodar Heimdal. Is that your argument?"
Lowell bit his lip.
The current Duke of Heimdal was Kailus.