Lucas immediately turned around and ran off.

Watching the scene nearby, Daren clicked his tongue with a worried expression.

“Wasn't that a little excessive? What if he ends up harboring resentment toward Your Grace?”

“Lucas is currently the Grand Ducal House's only heir. If something happens to me, that boy will have to carry on the family.”

Varkas answered blandly.

“Rather, I'd like to ask what everyone was thinking, leaving him unattended until he became like that.”

“Your Grace is still young and strong. Why should the second young master be prepared as the heir?”

Daren shrugged lightly.

“Besides, now that you've married, won't you soon have direct descendants of your own?”

Without replying, Varkas opened the waterskin hanging at his waist and moistened his throat.

Amid the soldiers busily coming and going, fourteen baggage wagons and a large four-wheeled carriage made for travel stood in sight.

A quarter-dwarf carrying a large basin approached the carriage. It seemed he intended to help his wife wash herself.

Suddenly, an astringent taste spread through his mouth, as though he had bitten into old metal.

Ever since injuring her leg, Talia had reacted with extreme sensitivity to exposing her body. She would not even allow anyone besides that woman and the healing mage appointed by her mother to touch her leg.

As the image of her convulsing every time he tried to inspect the wound himself came to mind, the bloody taste coating his mouth intensified.

After pouring another mouthful of strong liquor down his sandpaper-dry throat, he deliberately changed the subject.

“Anything unusual inside Dorkaen?”

“We couldn't find anything particularly suspicious. It seems they invited us simply to establish ties with the Grand Ducal House.”

Daren stroked his beard and continued calmly.

“While Your Grace was meeting privately with the lord, I inspected the training grounds as well. It seems true that they're lacking soldiers.”

“Is there any particular reason their forces have diminished?”

“I believe it's because of financial difficulties.”

Daren let out a deep sigh.

“It seems the Lord of Dorkaen lacks talent for governing. Unable to properly pay stipends, he drove away many warriors, and with raiders running rampant, they've suffered severe losses. I don't think that man intends to oppose the Grand Ducal House.”

Lost in thought, Varkas gazed at the grasslands dyed crimson by the sunset.

His own judgment differed little from Daren's. While his father remained bedridden, the local lords had each expanded their forces and increased their influence.

To a castle lord lacking a proper army, neighbors growing stronger by the day would naturally seem threatening.

For his own survival, the man had probably decided that supporting the new Grand Duke was the wiser choice.

The question was whether that man would actually be useful.

“Are you considering supporting Darken to keep the other vassals in check?”

As Varkas weighed the matter in his mind, Daren posed the question.

Varkas slowly shook his head.

“I'll decide after meeting the other lords as well.”

“A wise decision.”

Ending the conversation, Varkas headed toward the center of the camp.

By now, the soldiers had gathered around the campfires and were eating. After surveying the camp, he turned toward his own tent.

The moment he stepped into the dim interior, the heavy scent of rose oil and a sticky sweetness stung his nose.

Stopping at the entrance, Varkas shifted his gaze toward the candlelit bed.

A woman wearing a loose blue linen nightgown lay sprawled limply atop the blankets.

Cold air suddenly seeped between his ribs.

He strode over to the bed and placed the back of his hand against her cheek. Her smooth skin, like lacquered porcelain, was damp with a thin layer of cold sweat.

Was she suffering from pain again?

Frowning, Varkas stood up and searched through the cabinet. If she was in enough pain to suffer even in her sleep, it would be better to burn some herbs.

He pushed a bundle of thoroughly dried herbs into the small censer the healer had prepared in advance.

Just as he was about to light it, a faint voice came from close by.

“...Varkas.”

Turning his head, he found hazy eyes not yet free from sleep.

Seeing her appearance, as though intoxicated by something, he narrowed his eyes.

Had she already burned sleeping herbs?

Leaning over her, he pressed his nose against her collar, but he could detect no trace of smoke.

Instead, a sweet bodily scent so rich it made his throat sticky filled his lungs.

The overly dense stimulation blurred his thoughts for a moment. It felt as though senses that had long since rotted away were awakening all at once.

Struggling to shake off the strange feeling, he carefully raised his head and saw her shoulders hunching tightly, uncomfortable with how close he had come.

Pretending not to notice, he asked in an even tone.

“Do you perhaps have a fever?”

Pulling the blanket up to her chest, she answered bluntly.

“I'm fine. I just accidentally fell asleep.”

“Have you eaten properly?”

“I ate a little while ago.”

She gestured toward the tray beside the bed.

Looking down at the dishes still filled with food, he frowned.

There was barely any sign that she'd eaten. Most likely she'd only swallowed some honey wine and a few pieces of fruit again. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Feeling the strange sensation that had been disturbing his nerves abruptly transform into irritation, he roughly ran a hand through his hair.

Talia observed him carefully.

The sight of her fidgeting only made his nerves grow sharper. It would probably be better to stay outside until she fell asleep again.

He turned toward the entrance of the tent.

“You should rest now.”

“Va... Varkas!”

At that moment, a frantic hand reached out behind him.

Turning around in surprise, he saw Talia clutching the sleeve of his coat tightly. Her eyes darted nervously before she forced out a cracked voice.

“My... my leg hurts.”

When he showed no reaction, Talia swallowed dryly and continued with difficulty.

“Give me my medicine.”

Blinking blankly, Varkas lowered his gaze to her lips.

The swollen red flesh looked like crushed pomegranate seeds.

He remembered the sensation of taking them into his mouth and sucking on them. The feel of the soft, moist flesh wrapping around his tongue returned vividly.

Suddenly, a burning thirst rose in the depths of his throat.

He slowly walked over to the shelf and picked up a small glass bottle.

Holding it in his hand, he sat down on the bed, and deep anxiety appeared on her face.

As though testing her, he held up the bottle.

“This?”

A rosy blush spread over her skin, so translucent it seemed light could pass through it.

Her ears and the back of her neck flushed red as her eyes wandered before she gave a small nod.

He immediately opened the bottle and filled his mouth with the thick liquid.

Wrapping a hand around her slender neck, fragile enough to break, he felt her rapid, powerful pulse.

It reminded him of holding a small bird in his hand. Just as he had felt the vigorous heartbeat pulsing beneath its soft, delicate flesh, an anxious feeling washed over him.

Cradling her exquisitely sculpted chin, he brought his lips to the plump flesh that looked as though it had been fashioned from drops of blood.

As he slipped his tongue through the slightly parted opening, a moan like the whimper of a sick cat tickled his throat.