Chapter 207
C207
It did not take long before the colossal silhouette completely vanished from his field of vision.
Varkas pulled the reins to moderate the horse’s speed. There was no need to rush; that creature was now like a mouse in a trap.
The cavalry warriors were deployed everywhere and, furthermore, the beast had sustained a mortal blow. No matter how hard it tried, it would not manage to flee far.
He extracted a torch from the saddlebags and lit it.
As the glow of the fire cast upon the ground, bloodstains appeared scattered here and there.
Broken tree branches under the weight of its massive body and the marks of its sharp claws scratching the earth were also visible. It gave the impression that it no longer possessed the strength even to erase its own trail.
He guided his mount slowly, following the wolf’s trail.
As he ventured deeper into the depths of the forest, the bloodstains became more abundant and dense. It seemed that its wounds had opened up due to the violent movement.
The arrowheads intended for extermination were designed with curved hooks to embed themselves deeply into the flesh whenever the prey attempted to resist.
“…… Everything indicates that an artery was damaged.”
Varkas halted his pace upon finding a pool of blood while tracking the irregular footprints.
With such a magnitude of hemorrhage, it would surely have fallen at some nearby point.
He dismounted from the saddle and searched the surroundings with piercing glances.
The freezing wind blew through the pines that stood like spears.
He felt something cold brush against his cheeks, so Varkas raised his head and looked toward the sky, tinged with black.
The light emanating from the torch dimly illuminated the snow particles that resembled cotton balls.
It was the first snowfall of the season.
He stood contemplating it, lost in stupor for a moment, before noticing a strange aroma blending with the wind that almost cut the skin.
He turned his head as if attracted by something.
And among the pines that shone palely, a dark silhouette emerged.
As he approached, his eyes fell upon the Dire Wolf lying on the ground.
He meticulously examined its huge chest, which rose and fell with difficulty.
The spot where the arrow was embedded was completely awash in blood.
It was surprising that it remained alive after such a loss of blood.
He gripped the hilt of his sword immediately. Although it would not manage to stay alive for long, it was imperative to cut its breath definitively.
He drew his sword and slowly approached the wolf’s head.
Only then did the beast’s heavy eyelids rise.
And when his eyes met those pale, glowing blue pupils, Varkas involuntarily stopped his advance.
In the animal’s moistened pupils, a mixture of desperation and affliction, of pain and resentment, was drawn.
In that instant, the echo of her bitter plea struck his ears:
“You will know if you look into Kan’s eyes. Kan is our son. Our son, who did not get to take his first breath, has returned to life!”
He tightly squeezed the knuckles of his numb hand.
All of that was nonsense.
Mere fantasies of a woman mired in superstitions.
He repeated that to himself in his inner core as he raised his sword high.
The wolf looked with resigned eyes at the blade suspended above it.
And a white snowflake descended upon that pale pupil.
The snow crystal melted in an instant and slid down, moistening the wolf’s eye socket.
Varkas contemplated that scene motionlessly, as if the wolf were shedding tears, and then lowered his sword.
—
### CHAPTER 207
The extermination unit returned to Raidgo Castle as the bluish light of dawn began to tinge the earth.
The cavalry warriors, exhausted from searching the forest all night long, entered through the castle gate with heavy steps.
The soldiers and servants who were on the night shift came out to the esplanade to receive them, and among them were some vassals.
Edgar, the commander of the cavalry unit, advanced with accelerated steps through the training ground toward the Duke and opened his mouth cautiously:
“Are you well? Did you suffer any harm?”
Varkas replied to him with a dry voice as he dismounted from his horse:
“I am fine.”
“And what happened to that wolf?”
Varkas’s features tensed subtly upon hearing the pressing question.
Seeing that he did not answer, everyone’s faces hardened, including those of the butler and the warriors who had come out to confirm the results of the extermination.
At that moment, Perov took a step forward:
“The extermination operation concluded successfully. His Lordship the Duke dealt with that wolf properly, so do not worry any longer.”
“Did you perhaps bring its head?”
Everyone’s gazes diverted toward the source of the sudden voice.
Modrian, wearing his ordinary clothes, was advancing across the esplanade backed by his men. He said in a tone that denoted open distrust:
“There is no doubt that you have not returned empty-handed, is that so?”
It seemed that the man suspected that the Duke, who showed himself excessively condescending toward his wife, had freed the beast only to return and lie to them.
Varkas let out a low sigh and nodded his head.
In that instant, Perov untied a large leather sack from the saddle and threw it in front of him:
“See for yourself.”
The old knight immediately pulled the leather cord that closed the sack.
And the animal’s head appeared, soaked in bright red blood.
The man, who examined it with squinted eyes, exclaimed with a look of satisfaction:
“Incinerate it in the middle of the inner wall courtyard so that everyone can see it!”
The warriors gathered on the esplanade unleashed a thunderous clamor full of resentment.
Varkas remained observing the scene in silence, and then slowly turned his body.
And as he walked away from the esplanade with steps as heavy as if they were made of lead, Perov followed him in a hurry, raising a question:
“What punishment will you impose on Her Grace the Duchess?”
He stopped his pace and turned toward his assistant. The man, whose shoulders were trembling, added with a firm tone:
“If this matter is overlooked once more, all the vassals will rebel. You must impose an appropriate sanction on Her Grace the Duchess to appease their indignation.”
Varkas answered nothing and continued his march.
And meanwhile, the morning sun was beginning to break, illuminating the enclosure.
—
### CHAPTER 207
Varkas crossed the garden, which had frozen with the white tone of the first frost, and entered the great hall.
In that instant, his vision suddenly blurred.
He brought a hand to his forehead.
He had not had sufficient rest for about half a month.
And as if that were not enough, he had not ceased riding for five consecutive days, concluding with an entire night in the forest.
It was not strange that his body had reached its extreme limits.
He pressed his eyes to clear his vision, which looked blurry as if it had a layer of ice over it, and climbed the stairs leisurely.
Upon reaching the second floor, he spotted the door to Lucas’s room from the hallway railing.
He contemplated for a brief moment the light emanating from the chamber, and then climbed to the third floor.
He advanced through the corridor until reaching the door of her room, causing the lined-up guards to bow their heads in unison.
He ordered the soldiers to withdraw and then pulled the doorknob.
And with the slight sound of friction from the hinges, the layout of the mournful room enveloped in a bluish light appeared before him.
He advanced inward with long steps and discovered Talia sitting on the edge of the window.
Her long hair fell carelessly and she wore that delicate attire he had seen the previous night, while she leaned her body against the window.
Varkas fixed his gaze on that slender back as if he were pinned to the spot, and then crossed the room, deliberately accentuating the sound of his footsteps. The woman seemed to have transformed into a petrified statue.
While she leaned her forehead against the window glass without making any movement, he cast his words toward her back with a dry voice:
“I will strip Her Grace of all her prerogatives as Duchess. And furthermore, she will remain confined in the annex pavilion until Lucas regains consciousness.”
She showed no reaction.
She looked outside, lost in stupor, as if all her emotions had been extinguished.
Varkas turned his head following her gaze involuntarily, and his spine tensed.
Hundreds of soldiers were gathered in the middle of the esplanade lighting a bonfire.
And they threw something into the middle of the red, glowing flames.
Immediately afterward, a column of black smoke rose.
And over the face of the woman who contemplated that scene, a single tear slid down.
Varkas looked with a hardened face at the woman, who wept peacefully as if she had forgotten even how to sob, and then turned around.
And when he was preparing to leave the room, the echo of a mournful voice resonated behind his back:
“I will never forgive you, even if I die.”
Varkas turned backward once more.
He was faced by a face devoid of expression, a countenance from which all emotions had been erased.
She added, projecting a shivering gaze from her deep blue eyes:
“I will not forgive you until I die.”
The transparent tears slid down her cheeks without interruption.
He remained observing her in silence, then turned his back to her and left the room.
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