Apparently, she did not even have enough strength left to be difficult.
‘Perhaps I should never have brought her here.’
Varkas gazed down at her gaunt face with worried eyes before stepping out of the carriage.
Brilliant sunlight poured down over their heads like a torrential rain. A faint crease appeared between her pale brows, as though the brightness hurt her eyes.
Using the hem of his coat to cast a shadow over her face, he passed through the gate. Hundreds of curious eyes immediately flew toward them. His back stiffened without warning.
He had always lived surrounded by countless gazes and was accustomed to being the object of attention. Even so, he found it difficult to remain calm beneath the eyes stealing glances at the woman in his arms.
“It seems Her Grace the Grand Duchess is unwell.”
The captain of the guard, who had come to guide him, glanced at her and muttered sympathetically. His eyes remained fixed on her tangled hair and ivory cheeks. Varkas spoke coldly.
“I would appreciate it if you would show us to a bedchamber first.”
“Of course, we should show proper consideration. Please come this way. Sir Temuran repeatedly instructed us to attend to Your Grace with the utmost care.”
The man finally tore his eyes away from Talia and took the lead.
As they climbed the stairs behind him, a silent hall reminiscent of a monastery and dark corridors came into view.
“You may use this room.”
Crossing what appeared to be a receiving room, the man threw open an iron-banded door.
Varkas entered and slowly surveyed the neat interior.
It was a simple bedchamber, but by no means shabby. Judging that it would be sufficient for a stay of several days, he laid her down upon the bed.
By then, Talia had fallen asleep again.
Had the sedative the healer had given her not worn off yet?
He watched the woman, who still failed to regain consciousness, when he noticed the captain of the guard lingering near the doorway.
His voice sharpened.
“What is it?”
“My apologies, but Sir Temuran requests an audience with Your Grace immediately. Would it be possible for you to come to the audience chamber at once?”
Varkas frowned.
Ordinarily, guests who had come from afar were encouraged to rest. That meant either Temuran was an uncivilized boor ignorant of etiquette, or he had urgent business that superseded formalities.
After silently examining him for a moment, Varkas inclined his head.
“Very well. I shall go immediately.”
The man, whose face had been stiff with tension, visibly relaxed.
After ordering one of the subordinates waiting in the corridor to summon a healer, Varkas followed him without delay.
Not long afterward, they arrived at an old-fashioned room illuminated by bright lamps.
Crossing a carpet covered in intricate patterns, he approached a heavy wooden table. An elderly man seated on the opposite side abruptly rose to greet him.
“Thank you for coming, Your Grace.”
Judging by his complexion, the rumors about his illness had not been false. The old knight's face was deathly pale.
After silently observing him, Varkas sat down. The old man lowered himself into his seat once more and spoke hurriedly.
“Please forgive my discourtesy. As you can see, my health is poor, and I do not know when I may collapse. I wished to meet Your Grace while my mind still remained clear, and thus I dared to urge Your Grace to come. Even a hundred apologies would not suffice—”
“That is enough. Speak of the reason you summoned me.”
Varkas cut off the lengthy speech with a single sentence.
Wiping the cold sweat from his brow while carefully watching Varkas's expression, the old knight finally spoke.
“In truth... there is something I wished to ask, and so I requested this audience.”
When he extended a hand toward the attendant standing behind him, the young man, who had remained as silent as a shadow, handed over a parchment document.
Unfolding it, the old knight continued nervously.
“Not long ago, we received word that House Heimdal has begun gathering warriors of the North. Is it true that His Highness the Crown Prince stands behind this?”
Taking the parchment, Varkas began reading.
It seemed the information had come from a merchant traveling between the North and the East.
Copied by hand to conceal its source, the document detailed the movements of northern nobles and testimonies that numerous imperial knights had been sighted in Amasek.
As Varkas tapped the wooden table with his fingers while reading the last section, the old knight hurriedly added,
“And recently, I have heard that marriage negotiations have begun between Her Highness the First Imperial Princess and the heir of House Heimdal. Is Your Grace aware of these matters as well?”
“What exactly is it that you wish to know?”
Lifting his eyes from the parchment, Varkas asked directly.
The old knight moistened his lips nervously before finally speaking his true question.
“I wish to hear Your Grace's exact position. Which side are we standing with?”