The Crown Prince's face contorted miserably at the cold attitude, which showed not the slightest sign of hospitality.
The Princess, gently comforting her sibling, spoke softly.
"Now, let's go inside."
Then, he gave instructions to the attendants lined up on one side of the garden in a calm yet dignified tone.
"Leave only a minimum number of personnel behind and have the rest wait at the campsite."
Immediately, the attendants began to scatter in an orderly fashion.
The two members of the royal family who had been watching this soon climbed the stairs and stepped into the main castle. Barcas, who had entered the hall first and was giving a few orders to the servants, spoke to them in a dry tone.
"As post-war recovery efforts are in full swing, we are unable to arrange a grand welcoming ceremony. We ask for your understanding."
"We have not come here to be treated like guests. We are fully aware of the Grand Duke's situation. You may skip the cumbersome procedures."
A generous smile appeared on Ayla's lips.
Barcas glanced briefly at that neat face and gestured to the maids lined up along the wall.
"Advance the guests to their rooms. Pay special attention to ensure they experience no discomfort during their stay."
As he stepped toward the stairs as if he had done her duty, the Princess, who had maintained a relaxed attitude all along, tightened her lips.
Gareth, who had stepped forward toward his twin sister, urgently grabbed him.
“Wait a minute!”
Barcas looked back at him over his shoulder. At the look of clear annoyance in his eyes, Gareth's dark skin turned noticeably red.
The man, who normally would have unleashed his fiery temper at any moment, gritted his teeth and took a deep breath as if suppressing his sense of humiliation. Then, he continued speaking in a much calmer tone.
"I have something important to discuss with you, so please arrange a private meeting."
“Speak now.”
"It won't take long. You can spare that much time for someone who has traveled such a long distance."
Gareth raised his voice with a choked-up expression.
Barcas, looking down at his cousin with a gaze heavy with fatigue, spoke with a sigh.
"Please unpack your bags first. Let's talk after I have finished my official duties."
“I want to do it right now...!”
“Gareth.”
The Princess gently restrained her younger sibling, who was about to rush in hastily with an indignant look on their face.
"We came to help the Grand Duke's family. How could we interfere with the Grand Duke's duties?"
Gareth's eyes narrowed fiercely at the tone, which sounded as if she were scolding a naive child.
However, perhaps realizing that being stubborn any longer would only tarnish his reputation, he released her grip on the forearm. Then, he let out a loud shout at the servants.
"Didn't you hear? Hurry up and lead me to the room! What are you doing!"
The servants, who had been watching the situation with tense expressions, rushed out in a panic like horses struck by a whip.
"Um... please follow me. I will guide you to the room."
Gareth, who had been sending a burning gaze toward him, soon followed the servant.
Ayla, who had hesitated for a moment as if to say something to him, also went up the stairs leading to the guest room, guided by the maids.
As the uninvited guests disappeared from sight, Barcas resumed his steps.
As he walked down the dark hallway and entered the office, the cool air, heavily scented with ink and candles, seeped hazyly into his blood-heated head.
Feeling his vision suddenly turn pitch black, he leaned on the doorpost with one hand.
He wondered how long he had been standing there. The strangely rippling vision subsided.
Barcas sat down at his desk as if nothing had happened and picked up the official documents piled up next to it. Just then, a cautious voice was heard from nearby.
"Your Excellency, shall I get you some tea to help relieve fatigue? You haven't eaten anything all day..."
He flinched and lifted his head. Only then did he realize that there was someone else in the room.
Barcas narrowed his eyes and looked at the small-framed man standing by the door.
He couldn't readily recognize who it was. Perhaps due to overexertion over the past few months, human faces sometimes looked like pale lumps of plaster.
He pressed his fingertips between his eyes and waved one hand somewhat nervously.
"I don't need you, so you can go away."
The man, who had been hesitating for a moment, soon opened the door and went out.
Barcas lowered his gaze back to the parchment document.
The city reconstruction project was proceeding smoothly. The hordes of looters that had been running rampant for some time were all at once
Thanks to the eradication of the looters, the flow of logistics began to run smoothly, and the end of the civil war in the North was also acting as a catalyst to revitalize the economy of the East.
Although the investigation into the forces behind all this chaos has been sluggish, having witnessed the Heimdall family's downfall, they, too, must have no choice but to play it safe.
Unless a major variable arises, the era of the empire will remain steadfast.
After finishing signing the budget for building new trading facilities throughout the East, Barcas put down his quill pen and leaned back against the back of his chair.
Before he knew it, it had become noticeably dark outside the window. He didn't know if it was because the sun had set or because dark clouds had gathered.
It was impossible. Since at some point, the sky always took on a dark gray hue.
Staring blankly at the plains gradually turning black, he suddenly felt intense dizziness and covered his eyelids with the back of his hand. Then, at some point, it seemed as though he had let go of the thread of consciousness.
Barcas, who snapped open at the sound of knocking on the door, looked around the darkened study with a bewildered expression. For a while, he could not perceive where he was.
Weren't you preparing to set out in the barracks?
He was clutching his throbbing temples and struggling to sort out the jumbled mess in his head when an impatient knock struck his ears again.
"Y-Your Excellency, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince is requesting an audience. Uh, what shall we do?"
"What do you mean! Get out of the way!"
A rough voice rang out from outside the door, and soon after, a pitch-black shadow infiltrated the room.
"What on earth are you doing in such a pitch-black place?"
The man who barged in without permission shouted at the servants standing at the door.
"What are you doing not lighting the fire right now!"
Immediately, pale lights rose from all corners of the room. Only then was Barcas able to recognize the identity of the man standing before him.
Gareth Roem Guirta.
Come to think of it, he visited the castle earlier today.
It was a strange thing. Why had I forgotten that fact?
Barcas, who had been frowning, soon stood up from his seat.
"Is this the story you want to tell?"
"Come sit here. This isn't a conversation we can have while standing."
Gareth, perched on a long chair in front of the fireplace, picked up the glass the servants had prepared and gestured arrogantly with his chin.
Barcas, who had been quietly looking down at that arrogant face, soon sat down in the seat opposite him.
"I would appreciate it if you could wrap this up quickly. I'm quite tired."
"Don't worry. I have no intention of dragging this out either."
Gareth, having gulped down the wine, spoke in a stiff voice. Unlike his composed exterior, he appeared quite nervous on the inside, as the knuckles of his hand gripping the glass were white and stiff.
"I sent a formal letter of apology to the Blesston family."
After quite a while, he broke the silence.
"If necessary, I intend to go find the Lady of the Blesston family in person and court her. I understand by now that the only way to appease the public sentiment in the North is to make a daughter of the family representing Balto the Crown Princess..."
"That's really fast."
Barcas, bringing the cup handed to him by the attendant to his lips, sneered cynically.
Gareth, who had been glaring at him with a choked-up expression, took a deep breath as if trying hard to suppress his temper and continued speaking.
"I apologize to you right now. I made a mistake. I should have followed your judgment, but I didn't. This will never happen again."
Barca wiped the sneer from his lips and stared intently at his serious face. Gareth, tapping his knee nervously with his fingers, added in a low, subdued voice,
"I've decided to trust you no matter what happens from now on. No matter what anyone says, you're on my side."
“Is that so?”
Barcas tilted his head as if hearing it for the first time and asked back.
Gareth's face instantly flushed red.
"You can never betray me. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't. Isn't that right?"
Barcas did not say anything.
A triumphant smile spread across Gareth's lips as he accepted the silence as an affirmation.
"I used to be unsure... but this incident has convinced me. You are physically bound to something. That is why you can never stand by and watch me or Ayla be in danger. Am I right?"
The man, who had been leaning against the backrest of the chair, leaned forward and added with a grin.
"But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate your devotion. I still... I consider you like a brother to me."
"That is very touching."
Barcas let out a low sigh as he placed the wine glass he was holding on the table.
"Is that all you want to say?"
"I haven't even gotten to the point yet."
Gareth, having completely regained his confidence, continued speaking with a relaxed attitude.
"I want to fix our broken alliance."
Barcas raised one eyebrow.
Gareth, realizing that the other person did not understand his intentions, added impatiently.
"I mean that I want to push for your marriage to Ayla again. I have already received His Imperial Majesty's approval. If you just accept, everything will proceed smoothly."
Barcas did not show any reaction for a while.
Leaning against the armrest and pressing his temples, a wry laugh finally escaped his lips.
"I was wondering what you were trying to say by rambling on like this..."
Barcas shook his head, stood up from his seat, and picked up his coat.
"I have heard enough nonsense. It seems I have fulfilled my courtesies as a subject, so I shall take my leave now."
As he turned to leave the study, Gareth urgently grabbed his shoulder.
"If you need time to sort out your feelings, you can postpone it until next year. If we proceed with the marriage after about a year, people won't be gossiping. Ayla can wait that long, too..."
“Please do something.”
Barcas harshly shook off the hand placed on his shoulder and glared at him with an annoyed look.
"As I have said many times, I will never divorce her. If you have come to make such an absurd proposal, please leave this castle immediately."
"What are you talking about?"
Gareth looked at him with a confused expression.
"Divorce? What divorce? If you just marry Ayla..."
Gareth, who had been stammering with a blank expression, suddenly opened his eyes wide as if he had been shocked by something.
Barcas, who had been looking down at his cousin with a look of sheer sickness, let out a sigh and turned away. He couldn't even remember the last time he had gotten a proper sleep. He had no energy left to endure this man's unreasonable demands.
He slowly walked across the room and grabbed the doorknob.
Then Gareth roughly turned his body around.
"You don't mean... do you still believe that woman is alive?"
Barcas's eyes froze cold at the remark that crossed the line. He grabbed Gareth by the collar with one hand and warned him in a sinister voice.
"Don't speak ill of my wife. I made it clear. If you want me to stand by your side until the end, don't even think about harming her."
Gareth, who had been opening his mouth in utter despair, suddenly contorted his face fiercely.
"Damn it. You're completely lost your mind!"
He screamed, veins bulging in his neck.
"Snap out of it! She's dead. Thalia Roem Guirta no longer exists in this world!"
At that moment, Barcas heard the sound of something snapping inside his head.
A hand reached out before he could even realize it and mercilessly pushed Gareth's body away. Before he knew it, his two hands were mercilessly strangling the Crown Prince's neck.
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