Talia glared at them with a rigid face.

“What are you all staring at? Wasn't it hung up there for people to look at?”

At the venomous words, the men clutching their bowls blinked awkwardly and quickly averted their eyes.

Snorting derisively for all to see, Talia pushed Varkas's arm aside and limped toward the carriage.

Varkas followed and seized her elbow. Talia looked up at him tensely.

An ordinary noblewoman would have collapsed in shock or politely turned her eyes away from the corpse. Was he about to rebuke her for displaying behavior unbefitting a Grand Duchess?

As she regarded him warily, Varkas gently turned her around.

“From here on, we will be traveling on horseback.”

Before she could process the unexpected statement, he guided her toward the line of horses.

Talia hastily opened her mouth.

“I can't ride!”

“Do not worry. Your Highness will ride with me.”

At his light whistle, Tork came galloping over from the pasture, his black mane streaming behind him.

Talia stared at the gray warhorse, which looked as though it had been forged from twisted steel, as if gazing upon some hideous monster.

Tork was an entirely different beast from the pureblood horses from Nornek that Gareth paraded around.

Larger than ordinary fine horses, wild-tempered, and arrogantly dismissive of every living creature besides Varkas—

Talia hated this savage horse, which Varkas treasured so dearly.

And Tork felt exactly the same.

The moment he saw her, the stallion snorted. Talia hurriedly turned away from him, only to have Varkas catch her by the arm.

“Let go! I'll ride in the carriage!”

“The road ahead grows rough. If you travel by carriage, you'll collapse before half a day has passed.”

“I'd rather collapse than ride that filthy, stinking beast!”

Several easterners nearby, who had been saddling their horses, looked over as though they couldn't believe their ears.

Their expressions plainly said they found it impossible that anyone in the world could dislike horses.

A people mad about horses indeed.

Talia clenched her teeth.

“Let go of me this instant!”

With a short sigh, Varkas effortlessly lifted her and placed her atop the saddle.

Shrieking, Talia threw herself around Tork's neck.

Climbing up behind her, Varkas pulled her stiff body against his chest. Forgetting all sense of shame, Talia wrapped both arms tightly around his waist.

She was certain Tork would throw her onto the ground at any moment.

“M-Make me get down.”

“Lean back and relax. I won't let you fall.”

Raising her chin high, Talia shot him a vicious glare.

Ideally, she would have liked to slap him, but she dared not move in case Tork started bucking.

Grinding out each word between clenched teeth, she hissed,

“I said put me down!”

Pretending not to hear, Varkas flicked the reins.

Fearing she might bite through her own tongue, Talia immediately snapped her mouth shut.

Her vision swayed with the horse's movements.

Feeling slightly dizzy, she squeezed her eyes closed.

Then a familiar voice sounded nearby.

“Everything is prepared. Shall we depart immediately?”

It belonged to the vassal named Daren.

Varkas nodded toward him.

“Divide the troops in two. Half will follow me, and the other half will escort the supply wagons behind us.”

At his command, the cavalry moved with flawless discipline.

Peeking through half-open eyelids, Talia watched them before noticing several more corpses hanging in one corner of the village square.

She instinctively shrank her neck.

Noticing, Varkas covered her line of sight.

“Do not look.”

His firm voice brushed past her ear.

Turning his horse, he added,

“They raided this village countless times. They were displayed to ease the people's resentment and warn other raiders, not as entertainment.”

Talia said nothing.

Seeing her sit silently with tightly sealed lips, Varkas quietly looked down at her before guiding his horse up the hill.

A breeze carrying the scent of grass swept over them.

Mixed faintly within it was the cry of the beast she had heard throughout the night.

Suddenly, a foolish thought crossed her mind.

Would those criminals also be reborn as beasts and someday sing songs for someone?

Perhaps, someday, I too...

Staring at the lush forest glowing emerald blue, Talia soon let out a bitter smile and cast aside the pointless thought.

* * *

Their tour of the territory was nearing its end.

Having visited every village, large and small, in the eastern and western regions, the cavalry turned north.

Following the river diligently, they eventually arrived at their final destination, Tarlin.

At the sight of the magnificent sand-colored walls rising beyond the horizon, the cavalrymen burst into loud cheers.

“Looks like we'll finally get a comfortable night's rest!”

Reining in his horse and slowing down, Daren called out brightly.

Varkas said nothing.

Instead, he turned his horse and looked over the procession behind him.

Among the long line of supply wagons stood a luxurious traveling carriage.

Whenever the terrain became rough, he had forced her onto his saddle, but she was so frail and so easily frightened that she could barely endure two hours on horseback.

As soon as they left the rough terrain behind, he had no choice but to return his wife to the carriage.

It had seemed better for her to endure the swaying wagon under the effects of sleeping herbs than continue riding.

She was probably enduring motion sickness in a drugged haze even now.

After gazing at the carriage window hidden behind curtains, Varkas finally urged his horse forward.

He needed to reach their destination quickly so she could receive proper rest.

Spurring his horse onward, he increased his speed.

Soon the walls surrounding the city drew close.

As he raised one arm, the cavalry behind him lifted high the banners embroidered with the Black Horse emblem.

The iron-bound gates swung open wide, revealing the bustling city beyond.

“You have traveled far! Welcome!”

As they proceeded along the main road, the city's guards came out to greet them.

Varkas accepted their welcome with a slight nod.

“Who governs this city?”

“Sir Temuran. He was appointed personally by Your Excellency's father.”

The middle-aged man who appeared to command the guards answered calmly.

“Sir Temuran is presently in poor health and recovering within Tarlin Castle. He asked that his apologies be conveyed for being unable to receive Your Excellency in person.”

Varkas looked toward the fortress rising above the center of the city.

Though imposing at first glance, it seemed somewhat inadequate to house hundreds of knights.

Turning to Daren, he issued an order.

“Leave only a minimum number of men here. The rest will need separate accommodations. Find out if an entire inn can be rented.”

“Yes, sir.”

Leaving behind about fifteen elite knights and Lucas Laedgo Siorcan, Daren departed toward the outskirts of the city.

Varkas gestured to his younger brother, who had noticeably grown thinner over the past weeks.

“Stop lingering in the back and come here.”

“Can't I stay at the inn with Daren—”

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

Pulling a miserable face, Lucas slowly approached.

Watching him with cold eyes, Varkas turned back to the captain of the guard.

“Lead the way.”

“Ah... this way, please.”

The captain hurried ahead.

Following him deeper into the city, they came upon a broad square and the massive fortress.

Jumping down from his horse, Varkas walked toward the carriage that had stopped nearby.

Opening the door carefully, he saw a woman slumped limply against the seat.

Climbing inside, he supported her back.

Awakened from a shallow sleep, she rubbed her eyes and spoke in a sleepy, nasal voice.

“...Are we there?”

“Yes. We arrived just now. I will carry you, so please continue sleeping, Your Highness.”

Sliding his other arm beneath her knees, Varkas lifted her impossibly light body.

Ordinarily, she would have thrown a fit and insisted on walking herself.

But for some reason, the woman quietly wrapped her arms around his neck.