The interior of the main castle was crowded with people who had fled from the city.
After scanning the faces of those who had been emaciated by not being able to wash them for weeks, Barcas stopped when he found the bodies lined up on one side of the hall.
Soldiers in gambisons covered in blood and men in plain clothes who seemed to have lost their lives in the rebellion were lying in an upright position.
"Is this all the bodies?"
"Oh, no. The corpses of the soldiers who followed the lord and the mercenaries he hired were piled up in the backyard of the citadel."
The old priest in a black monk's robe, kneeling next to the corpse, responded nervously in a powerful voice.
Barca nodded to the knights standing behind him.
"Go out and check."
Then he looked around the hall with a cold look and added.
"For the time being, we will close the castle and thoroughly investigate the identities of all people living in the city. Only those who have been confirmed not to participate in the rebellion will be able to get out of this place."
A sigh of fear erupted from all sides.
Leaving behind those who were silently sobbing while tightly embracing each other, he climbed the central staircase.
The lord seemed to have met his end in his bed. When Barcas entered the large room in the center of the third floor, a thick bloody smell pierced his nose.
He walked past the carpet stained with dark red blood and walked to the half-shattered desk. On the desk, which was a mess of blood and ink stains, was a mess of parchment paper.
Picking them up and quickly scanning them, Barcas narrowed his eyes when he found a letter asking someone for military assistance.
On the blood-stained paper sheet, sentences close to begging and symbols presumed to be military codes were mixed indiscriminately.
'...Is it a letter to allies? Or...'
He moved his gaze to the bottom of the letter.
The word 'grizzly bear' was written in the recipient's compartment.
If this meant Bjorn Brodar Heimdall, then the assumption that the northern rebels were hiding here in Tallinn was completely wrong.
Roughly scratching his disheveled hair, Barcas threw down the parchment document and rummaged through the desk chest of drawers for other clues.
At that moment, Darren's voice came from the door.
"Did you find anything?"
Barcas, who was looking down at the empty drawer, shook his head.
"Not yet."
"I had some gains."
Darren stood upright on a chair that had fallen on the floor and sat down on it, and continued.
"The soldiers found chests full of gold coins in the underground warehouse. Under the circumstances, it seems that the money was sold to Balto."
Then he added with a long sigh.
"In addition, I found five or six mercenaries who seemed to be northerners among the mercenaries used by the lord. It seems that the rebels brought in for trafficking are clear."
"Are there any survivors?"
Darren shook his head at Barcas's question.
"Those who followed the lord were almost wiped out. Although the butler and some of the guards who were close associates of the lord of the castle survived, it seems that it is not easy to extract meaningful information from them."
"Interrogate them until they tell you everything they know."
Turning around the desk, Barcas gave instructions in an emotionless voice.
"If you pass it on, the same thing will happen again. Anyone involved in this incident will be strictly punished and set an example. Not only will the people living in the castle be investigated without fail, but we will also search every corner of the castle and collect everything that can be used as evidence."
"I'll take your orders."
Darren replied in a heavy and submerged voice, then stood up again and left the room.
Barcas rummaged through the bookshelf a little more and came to the conclusion that he could no longer find any meaningful clues, so he escaped from the chaotic sleeping quarters and passed through the silent corridors.
Then, suddenly, he found a familiar scene through the broken glass window and stopped in his tracks.
Yellow roses were blooming on one side of the garden in the cold light of late autumn. After staring down at it with frozen eyes, he took another step as if erasing the afterimage of her that flashed in front of him.
After several days of harsh interrogation, no information about the rebels' stronghold could be found.
When it became clear that there were no instigators of the northern rebellion in Tarlin, he led the Knights to a small fiefdom located in the north.
It seemed that he was expecting the possibility that Bjorn was hiding in a nearby area. However, Barcas was convinced that Bjorn would have left this place and disappeared completely.
"Judging from the fact that a considerable amount of military supplies were purchased in the East, the forces that follow him are still alive and well."
Now that he has secured the necessary military supplies, Bjorn must move to the northern region, where his base of power exists.
Barcas looked at the trafficking ledger he had found and wrinkled his eyes.
With all the major cities taken away and even the Amasek being captured, the question arose as to how they managed to secure such funds.
There were countless mines and natural forests in the north, but all trade routes were cut off immediately after the war broke out.
Smuggling would have a limit on raising military funds. He thought that perhaps there was secret support from the Emperor in another region.
Barcas felt his head spin and threw the ledger on the desk. Then he leaned back on the back of the chair and pressed his eyes between them.
Considering the possibility of another force's intervention, it turned into a complicated issue.
The most likely external collaborator was Balis, which borders the west.
The descendants of the former kingdom of Balis, who had settled in the northwestern end, were unable to shake off their national desire to completely escape the influence of their long-standing enemy, Leviadon.
Dristan could not be ruled out either. The Dristans, who settled in the southeastern part of the Lobiden continent, have not been able to shake off their long-standing resentment towards the Wedanese people who border the west. It was highly likely that the people also longed for independence.
It has been 150 years since Emperor Darian passed away. This empire of ten peoples was now in a precarious balance that would not be strange if it collapsed at any time.
'....A third force that wants Independence from the empire may be playing tricks behind the scenes.'
This may be why the signing of the Peace Treaty has been sluggish.
He let out a tired sigh and looked out the window at the sky where the dawn was starting to brighten.
He had spent another sleepless night today. His limbs, heavy from accumulated fatigue, began to twitch slightly.
As if to restrain it, he clenched his fists tightly and stood up resolutely. He could feel a tingling sensation spreading to his arms, shoulders, and neck, but the pain was still not transmitted to his brain.
Only the instinctive judgment that it might be dangerous if he didn't take a break ran dryly through his mind.
"I'll have to get sleeping pills soon."
But it seemed that he could hold on for now. After calmly checking his condition, Barcas picked up his coat and left the military barracks.
On the walls of the city hung the corpses of prisoners at regular intervals.
In the past few weeks, only thirty vassals have been executed. It was revealed that the majority of the lords and administrators in the northeast participated in the transfer act.
This created a widespread power vacuum in the Northeast. Hurry up to fill the gap was also a challenge at hand.
Barcas quickly selected the candidates in his head. At the same time as appointing a new lord, he intended to push for Raina's marriage.
If his sister stubbornly refused to marry, one way was to appoint Lucas here.
There is no training ground to learn the practice, so it would not be a bad idea to let them accumulate a track record before announcing an official successor.
He weighed the options in his head and took out a flask from the leather pouch on his waist to wipe his dry mouth.
At that moment, a rumbling sound was heard near the gate.
Turning his head, Barcas frowned at Beirov, who was rushing towards him unarmed. An ominous sensation ran down his spine at his flustered appearance.
"Your Excellency, an urgent telegram has arrived from Kalmor."
The man who came running in the middle of the month gasped and shouted. Barcas straightened up from leaning against the fence.
The man held out a small wad of parchment paper in his hand and added in a voice that seemed to suppress his anger.
"I think you should hurry back. It is said that Lucas Darren was attacked by Her Highness the Grand Duchess wolf and was seriously injured."
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