He leaned against the edge of the bed, his words heavy as lead. Just as he was about to raise his upper body, a single, eardrum-piercing scream shattered the silence.
"...Your Excellency! Are you awake?"
He turned his head toward the sound and saw the butler running into the room, holding a large kettle. He tossed the kettle onto the shelf and ran straight to the bedside.
"Thank you, God! I was so anxious that you might never wake up again...!"
The butler, muttering in an agitated voice, placed a pillow behind his back.
Barcas leaned his head against the back of the bed and pressed hard against his eyelids, which stung as if shards of broken glass had been poured into them. The head butler, seeing this, hurriedly rang the bell on the nightstand and summoned the other servants.
"His Excellency has woken up! Bring the doctor now!"
Soon, a clamor of footsteps echoed, and three or four servants and a priestly doctor burst in. While they surrounded the bed and made repairs, Barcas closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the sense of helplessness that weighed on him to subside.
How long had it been like that? The priest, who had been infusing divine power into his body, exhaled wearily and spoke.
"Fortunately, it seems like you've completely overcome the crisis. The mana flow that was so chaotic has completely returned to its original state."
Barcas opened his eyes and looked at the priest. The priest, wiping the sweat from his forehead, added in a heavy, grave tone.
"There's no other way to explain it than by heaven's help. Throughout history, there have been only a handful of instances of people surviving after ingesting Aghor's venom."
Venom.
Barcas repeated the words, staring down at the veins on the back of his hand. Countless questions flooded his mind, clouded by the turmoil of the night. Barcas, conscious of them, pushed them aside and let out a muffled voice.
"...How long has it been since I woke up?"
"Your Excellency has been unconscious for exactly eight days, no, today."
Before the priest could respond, a heavy voice echoed from the doorway. Barcas turned his head. A haggard-looking Bayrov was striding across the room.
He added in a heavy, hushed voice as he approached the bedside.
"For the first four days, you were in such a state of shock that it wouldn't have been surprising if your heart had stopped beating at any moment. I'm so relieved you're awake now."
"...How did the expedition go?"
Barcas ignored his aide's concerns and asked a dry question. The aide, who had been staring at him with a stern face, glanced at those surrounding the bed and cautiously made a request.
"Would you mind taking a look around for a moment?"
"Your Excellency, you have just regained consciousness after struggling between life and death. Please wait until you have fully recovered your strength."
“It’s okay, go away.”
Barcas nodded to the priest, who was anxiously trying to dissuade him. The priest looked back at him with pensive eyes.
"If you overdo it and your condition worsens again..."
"Don't make me say it twice."
The priest, appalled by his chilling aura, quickly shut his mouth.
Soon, all the servants, including the priest and the butler, left the room.
Barcas straightened his body, heavy as a wet cotton ball, and gazed at his aide. At that silent urging, the man's tightly clenched lips parted.
"The suppression operation... was a failure. I am truly sorry."
"Explain in detail."
Barcas demanded calmly, without any apparent agitation. The man, who had been observing his complexion with a stern face, immediately continued his report.
"Immediately after Your Excellency's fall, thugs took advantage of the chaos to infiltrate the castle. They raided the dungeon, freeing the prisoners and preventing a rebellion within the castle. Upon hearing the news, Master Lucas hurriedly led his men to the scene, and the situation was quelled..."
"The expedition didn't go as planned, I guess."
Barcas interrupted him. The man nodded slowly.
"The villains were surprisingly skilled. They effortlessly broke through the siege lines, slipped out of the castle, and disappeared in an instant. As a result, the troops waiting in the Armund Forest had to surround the Kalmor area and search for them."
"So, did you catch the intruders?"
"...I'm sorry. I searched all night, but they had already disappeared."
The man confessed with a gloomy expression. Barcas's lips twisted cynically.
"In the end, both the intruder and the plunderer were lost."
"...I'm really embarrassed. I should have seen through the fact that they were just buying time..."
"Raise your head. Who am I to blame for being in such a pathetic situation of being poisoned?"
Barcas let out a self-deprecating laugh. Observing his expression, Bayrov cautiously shifted the subject.
"Do you remember how you were poisoned?"
Barcas looked at him with a blank expression, his smile fading. Bayrov swallowed hard and continued speaking with difficulty.
"It seems Her Highness the Grand Duchess was in cahoots with a pagan group. They were trying to sabotage this suppression operation by putting drugs in Your Excellency's glass..."
"Is there any concrete evidence?"
Bascas cut him off in a dry tone. A moment of bewilderment appeared, and Bayrov's face immediately hardened into a cold grimace.
"There is no doubt that the Grand Duchess took the poison."
"I asked if there was any concrete evidence."
"Her Highness herself confessed."
Barcas simply stared at the man with eyes as cold as ice. Feeling frustrated by his stubborn attitude, Bayrov raised his voice.
"And that's not all. Many objects symbolizing the Great Spirit Cult were discovered in Her Highness the Grand Duchess's bedroom. Her Highness is determined to save the cultists and is trying to harm Your Excellency!"
Suddenly, a dull, cracking sound echoed in Barcas's head. It felt as if a part of his brain, unable to withstand the intense pressure, had burst open. He clutched his forehead with one hand, as if trying to shake off the eerie sensation, and managed to force a calm voice from within his constricted throat.
“Where is she now?”
"She was detained at the top of the tower."
Bayrov responded coldly.
"All the vassals of the Grand Duke's family rose up and demanded that she be guillotined immediately, but Master Lucas barely managed to calm them down. Even if she were a great villainess who tried to poison her husband, it would be impossible to put the Emperor's daughter on the execution stand without a proper trial."
Barcas clenched his fists so violently that his knuckles turned white. A rage of unknown origin churned through his gut. Barcas glared at his aide with bloodshot eyes, then gave instructions in a voice as cold as ice.
"Bring her to me right now."
Bayrov, who had been casting a cautious glance as if trying to gauge his intentions, soon nodded and left the room.
Soon, armed soldiers entered the bedroom, carrying Thalia. Barcas, who had been looking up at the sky, which was turning a deep blue, slowly turned his gaze.
Even in midsummer, she looked chillingly cold. Seeing her prisoner-like appearance, Barcas felt a rage that made his brain evaporate, and he took a deep breath.
Even a cursory glance revealed that she had been treated harshly. Her once radiant blonde hair was a tangled mess, weighing heavily on her slender neck and spine, and her thin silk dress was covered in cobwebs and dust.
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