He quickly exited the hallway and went down the stairs. As he went outside through the back door, he saw densely intertwined shrubs obscuring his view.
Barcas, who was passing through them with impatient steps, spotted Thalia sitting under a red barberry tree and stopped in pause.
When he saw her sitting on the ground in a thin gown, his throat tingled as if he had swallowed a piece of glass.
He swallowed the words that came up from inside and strode in front of her.
"What are you doing in a place like this?"
The woman, who was staring blankly at the flower bed, slowly raised her head. Her unclear eyes slowly groped into the air. Barcas twisted his eyes.
"Did you burn the sleeping candle?"
"...I didn't burn it. It's just because I'm a little tired."
Thalia, who retorted in a languid voice, lowered her gaze back to the flower bed.
Following the gaze, Barcas spotted a limp bird among the long blades of grass and frowned.
He could see the intestines infested with ants through the torn belly skin, as if bitten by a wild cat.
In the past, she was a woman who made a game just by looking at a bug. A woman who hated dirty things to the point of mysophobia and liked beautiful things to the point of being accused of being extravagant began to pay attention to ugly things. The strange change was annoying.
He lifted her up with a rather rough hand.
"If you're tired, you should rest in your room. Why are you doing this?"
"...I was frustrated, so I came out to get some air. It was strangely hot in the room."
Thalia muttered as if making an excuse.
Barcas, who had been giving her a stiff look, put the back of his hand on her forehead.
He didn't feel the heat. Perhaps because she was wearing thin clothes and was exposed to the cold wind, her skin was rather cold.
Barcas let out a small sigh and took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulder.
"Just go in. Your body is cold."
"Yes..."
He wrapped his arms around her and was about to take a step towards the back door, but a tight voice grabbed his ankle.
He lowered his gaze again. Shadowy blue eyes filled his vision. The woman, who was biting her lip as if hesitating about something, continued with difficulty.
"Before..."
"You're in a place like this!"
At that moment, a booming voice interrupted her words.
Barcas turned his head towards the sound from which he had come. Darren Dru Sheerkan, with five or six men, was trampling on the flowers around the narrow walkway across the garden.
Darren has something to report urgently. When he went to the inn, he met Informants from the capital, and they said that the trend of the Imperial palace was unusual. Apparently, the Empress is expanding her power in earnest...
The man, who had been speaking hastily, belatedly found Thalia and kept his mouth shut.
Barcas examined Thalia's complexion. Her face, which looked defenseless like a lost child, was coldly frozen.
She took a step back, muttering in a low, sunken voice.
"I'm going up to the room, so you can take care of your business."
"I'll take you to your sleeping place."
"I can go alone."
"Didn't I tell you that you can't go alone without an escort?"
A faint hint of dissatisfaction crossed her beautiful face as if reprimanding him.
She glanced at the knights behind Darren's back and pointed to the smallest man.
"Then put that person as an escort."
The soldier who was pointed out shrank his shoulders with a bewildered face.
After Thalia attempted to pull out Lucas' tongue, the family's warriors treated her as a key figure. The man who was accused also crouched down as if he was reluctant and only looked at Barcas.
Barcas let out a sigh of annoyance.
"What are you doing standing still? Don't hurry up and take care of Her Highness."
When his Instructions fell, the soldiers rushed over.
Barcas reluctantly untied the arm that wrapped around her. Thalia walked away from him without hesitation.
Barcas, who had been staring at her back for a moment, turned his gaze to his vassal. Darren immediately pulled a wad of parchment from his bosom and held it out.
"This is a document that records what happened in the capital after Your Excellency left the imperial palace."
He read the document carefully. The report stated that there was a rift among the conservative aristocracy and that the Empress had begun to openly gather supporters of the Second Prince.
Barcas wrinkled the corners of his eyes.
'She doesn't look like her.'
The Emperor was still strong. If there were no changes, Beerus Roem Gurta's reign would continue for more than 10 years. But why doesn't the Empress wait for the Second Prince to become an adult?
There was a strong sense of caution about the incomprehensible move. Just as she used her daughter to provoke Gareth, this time she may be trying to incite a rebellion by using her younger son. If the woman is inducing Gareth to go on a rampage, there must be a much greater danger lurking behind this marriage.
As he read that the engagement between the heir of the Heimdall family and the first Princess was being discussed in earnest, Barcas folded up the parchment.
Strengthening relations with the North is not bad in itself. However, it is dangerous to leave Ayla's personal affairs to them.
Northerners were a different people with an obsession with their bloodline. In order to preserve the platinum hair and red eyes characteristic of the ancient giants, they did not hesitate to marry Indigenously for generations.
There was no way they would accept the black-haired Princess as their mistress. There must be other intentions.
Barcas, who rubbed his temples with a thoughtful expression, soon left the garden.
When he entered the office under the guidance of the butler, a young servant brought him a writing instrument. He sat at his desk and wrote a few documents. It was an order to thoroughly investigate the size of the army summoned by the Heimdall family and the flow of funds.
After sealing it and handing it over to the messenger, he wrote two more telegrams to be sent to the capital. One was to the Marquis of Oristine and the other to Gareth.
Barcas, who wrote a sentence warning of the dangers of the north in the most euphemistic tone, put his signature and sealed it at the end of the document.
Darren, who was watching from the sidelines, asked in an awkward tone.
"Do you intend to stop the marriage of the 1st Princess?"
Barcas looked at him with a puzzled look.
"Is there any problem?"
"That... If Your Excellency dissuades her, won't it look a little strange?"
Darren scratched the back of his head.
"The world may think that Grand Duke Sheerkan has a grudge against the First Princess."
Barcas let out a dry smile.
"You're talking nonsense."
Gossip was fine. Rather, it was more important to stop Gareth before he caused trouble.
He rolled up two pieces of parchment paper and stamped them with a seal.
"Choose the one who is the fastest and send him to the capital."
The man, who looked down at him with a strange gaze for a moment, immediately took the parchment and went outside.
Barcas leaned back in his chair and looked out the window.
Before he knew it, the sky was pouring down thin streams of rain.
Suddenly, the afterimage of Thalia standing in the garden flashed through his mind. What was she trying to say then?
When he thought of the devastated eyes that looked at the dead bird, he felt an uncomfortable sensation in his chest. Barcas, who was knocking on his desk with an unknown nervousness, soon left the office.
The hall was full of noise as if they were preparing for a welcome ceremony. He climbed the stairs, past the servants who bowed their heads.
When he opened the bedroom door, he saw a small woman lying crouched on a wide bed.
He approached the side of the bed. He could see a faint blush rising above her graceful, curved white cheeks. It had been drooping like a sick chick all day, and eventually it looked like it had gone sick.
Barcas let out a long breath and picked up a clean towel from the shelf. He was a bout to wipe her face with it, but suddenly a strange smell brushed the tip of his nose.
He stopped moving. A dark red stain spread across the corners of her mouth. He stared at it from a distance, then gently shook her lying body. The nape of her neck, soaked with night sweat, hung down helplessly.
Only then did he see the red marks on the pillow. Barcas, who had been blinking his eyelids slowly, carefully lifted her head.
A thick, bloody smell pierced his nose. A red liquid from the corners of her mouth flowed down his frightened throat.
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