Feeling disgusted by his own reaction, he straightened his bent body, but someone stood in front of him.
"Your Excellency, you must be weary from your long journey. Why don't you rest first?"
He looked down with a cold gaze at the man who had cunningly stepped in to cut off the space between her and him.
Edric Rubon, dressed in neat civilian clothes, was watching his reaction with a tense expression and one hand on his chest.
For a moment, a sense of disbelief arose at the attitude that seemed to be trying to protect her from him, but Barcas suppressed his seething displeasure and turned around. Then, he walked past the woman, who was standing stiff as a statue of ice, and crossed the hall.
As he walked straight down the hallway and stepped into the bedroom, the head butler, who had followed to attend to him, cautiously struck up a conversation.
"Do you need anything?"
"Bring water to wash and a change of clothes."
As soon as the order was given, the man bowed respectfully and quietly left.
As the dull sound of the door closing echoed, he took off his coat, draped it haphazardly over the back of the chair, and walked to the window.
As he pulled back the curtain, the landscape of the garden, where the lingering snow had not yet melted, unfolded before his eyes. Spotting a familiar figure from behind amidst that desolate scenery, Barcas pressed his temple against the windowpane.
Two maids and Edric Robon were closely following behind Thalia as she walked slowly along the path. It seemed they were there to support her if she, with her leg disability, were to stumble.
As the man spoke to her while looking at her with worried eyes, a faint smile briefly crossed the face of the woman, who had been furrowing her brow in annoyance.
Barcas looked down at that soft profile without blinking, then heard the sound of something tearing and lifted his head. Before he knew it, the curtain had been ripped off.
He scratched his bangs back and stepped back from the window. Just then, servants entered the room carrying a bathtub full of hot water.
With the help of his squire, Barcas disarmed himself, immediately cast off his sweat and dust-stained clothes, and immersed himself in hot water. Although it was a luxury he hadn't enjoyed in fifteen days, the unpleasant sensation did not easily go away.
He leaned his head against the edge of the bathtub and looked up at the ceiling, where deep shadows were cast.
Why on earth do I feel so bitter?
The woman, who had been acting erratically, unable to control her anger, had finally regained her composure, so she should have been relieved.
Considering the time when she used to lock herself in a dark room and cause a ruckus while out of bed, wasn't this an encouraging change? It seemed that the terrible resentment directed at him had subsided, so there would no longer be any need to waste energy on exhausting arguments.
Barcas, muttering to himself, scooped up water with both hands and roughly washed his face.
As he finished his bath and stepped out of the tub, a servant waiting behind the partition approached with a towel and dried him from his back. Shaking off the bothersome touch, Barcas loosely threw on a linen shirt and cotton trousers and sank deep into a velvet chair. Just then, a rough voice mixed with metallic grating was heard from outside the door.
"Brother, may I interrupt for a moment?"
He answered without even lifting his head.
“Come in.”
Shortly after, Lucas opened the door and stepped into the room.
Barcas scanned his younger brother with a calm gaze.
Lucas's skin glowed with a healthy, bronzed vitality, as if he had fully recovered his strength over the course of two seasons. However, in contrast to his robust, energetic physique, a somber aura permeated his face.
As he quietly observed his gloomy expression, Barcas approached in a blunt tone.
“What’s going on?”
"I came because I have a favor to ask of you, big brother."
He spoke in a tense tone. Barcas casually glanced at the tip of his chin.
“Try it.”
Even though permission had been granted, Lucas was unable to speak for a while.
With a tense expression, he pressed his lips together, and his younger sibling slowly opened his mouth.
"Please entrust me with the management of the eastern border region."
At the sudden request, Barcas, who was picking up a bottle of liquor to fill a glass, stopped abruptly.
He narrowed his eyes and asked back.
"Why?"
"You told me... that I needed to develop my political skills, didn't you? Since there is currently a shortage of nobles to manage the northern border region... I thought this was a good opportunity."
Lucas spoke calmly, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.
As he stared intently at him, Barcas placed the wine bottle on the table and asked.
"Have all your memories returned?"
For a moment, something like a dark shadow flashed across his younger sibling's face.
Lucas moistened his parched lips and slowly shook his head.
"It’s not all of it. Just fragmented memories passing by sporadically."
Barcas said in a dry tone as he watched his younger brother with the glass brought to his lips.
"We have already appointed a new master to manage Tarlin. We can't back out now."
"It doesn't have to be Tarlin. It doesn't matter if you entrust me with another territory in that region..."
"Are you saying that the second son of the Grand Duke's family should be placed in an administrative position in a small village on the frontier?"
His younger sibling's lips were tightly closed.
Lucas, who had been silently looking down at the floor with a pensive expression, raised his head again.
"In that case, please send me to the northeastern region. If you hand over command of the external patrol to me, the unresolved Zram problem..."
"It is commendable that you are trying to do something, anything, but the timing is not good."
Barcas, silenced by strong wine, continued speaking calmly.
"You must have heard the news of my injury, too. My retainers are deeply worried that I might die in battle without leaving an heir. So, at least you stay quietly at Raedgo Castle until the war ends."
"But you have returned safely, brother, haven't you? The war will be over soon, too."
"It's not completely over yet. There is no guarantee that a sudden crisis like last time won't occur again."
Barcas, leaning diagonally against the armrest, let out a long sigh and continued speaking.
"Wait until next year. As soon as the civil war subsides, I will give you suitable land. I have told you before, but if you and I go back and forth to the battlefield at the same time without a designated successor, our retainers will collectively rebel."
"..."
"If you understand, you can leave now."
Even in order to expel him, his younger brother did not budge.
Barcas raised his eyes and looked up at him.
“What else?”
"I fully understand your wishes, Brother. However, I do not wish to remain in Kalmor any longer. If you are concerned that my leading the punitive expedition might fuel the anxiety of the retainers, please allow me to stay in the southern border region for the time being."
Deep wrinkles formed on Barcas's forehead.
He asked interrogatively.
"Why do you want to leave this place so badly?"
"That..."
Lucas finally opened his mouth after pausing for quite a while, as if hesitating about something.
"As long as I stay in Kalmor, I will never be able to escape being a spoiled young master. I am also getting sick of being treated like a patient that everyone has to pitch in to look after."
As he grumbled dissatisfiedly, Lucas suddenly added in a cautious tone.
"And I think it would be better for her, my sister-in-law, for me to leave this place. I also don't feel comfortable letting her continue to be criticized because of an incident I barely remember."
"Who is blaming her?"
Barcas, having set his glass down with a clack, asked in a low voice.
When he showed signs of embarrassment, his younger sibling immediately brushed it off in a light tone.
"It’s not that anyone has come forward to publicly criticize her. It’s just a bit of whispering behind her back."
"So, I'm saying who is running their mouth so carelessly."
Lucas avoided his gaze and lowered his eyes.
That embarrassed look was enough of an answer. Surely, Raina and the child's personal maids must be running their mouths carelessly.
Barcas swept back his still-damp hair, leaned against the back of the chair, and let out a heavy sigh.
"I understand what you mean. I'll find a position for you to take up soon."
Lucas did not look very happy, even at the answer that he would grant his request.
Lucas, who had been looking down at the floor with a gloomy expression, soon bowed his head once and left the room.
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