A Barbaric Proposal Chapter 91

※The Return of Weroz※

—The King stole the power of the gods.

The thought was a jagged stone in her mind.

Was such a thing even possible?

How could a mortal man reach out and siphon the very essence of the earth’s waters?

Lost in the labyrinth of her own theories, she didn't realize she was gripping her hair in frustration until a rough, calloused finger brushed against the space between her eyebrows.

She flinched, her eyes snapping open.

[Liene] “What…?”

[Klima] “Ah! I—I—no! I mean—my hand!”

Hw looked more terrified than she was. He scrambled backward, his large hands waving frantically in the air as if trying to erase the last five seconds from existence.

[Klima] “My hand just… I didn’t mean to… It was just… You looked so pained. The frown… the wrinkle in your brow…”

[Liene] “Oh.”

She nodded slowly, the realization sinking in. She let out a soft breath.

[Liene] “I see. I understand what you were doing, Klima. But… please, don't do that again.”

It was exactly what she had done for Black earlier that evening—smoothing away the tension that made him look so weary.

While Klima’s intentions might have been just as pure, that kind of intimacy was a territory she reserved for only one man.

[Klima] “I—I understand. I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

Klima hung his head, his shoulders slumped in shame.

[Liene] “I’m not angry that you cared about my comfort. I’m just saying it isn’t necessary.”

[Klima] “Yes, Your Highness. Understood.”

Klima retreated further, his face a mask of apology.

It was only then that Liene realized how close they had been standing in the cramped space of the archives.

Seeking to break the stifling awkwardness, she searched for a neutral topic.

[Liene] “You were with Madam Henton before you came to me, weren't you? How is she? Has she improved?”

[Klima] “Yes, yes. Mother is… she’s much better now. She’s…”

Klima stopped mid-sentence. His eyes sharpened, the shy boy vanishing and being replaced by a predator.

In one fluid motion, he lunged forward and clamped a hand over Liene’s mouth.

[Liene] “—!”

[Klima] “Shh.”

Liene tried to pull away in shock, but Klima leaned in, his voice a barely-audible ghost of a whisper against her ear.

[Klima] “Someone is outside.”

[Liene] “...?”

Without making a sound, Klima reached out with his free hand and snuffed the candle flame between his palm and the wick.

Suffocating darkness swallowed the room.

*****

[Black] “It’s still bothering me.”

The unfinished stairs of the temple were beginning to blur into the twilight as they rode.

Despite the thunderous pace of their horses, his voice carried clearly to his companion.

[Fermos] “And what, pray tell, is the problem now, my Lord?”

Fermos was used to this. Black was a man who gave neither his enemies nor his subordinates a moment’s peace.

[Black] “Henton. Or Sir Renfel, as he’s calling himself now.”

[Fermos] “Our dear little duckling? What about him?”

He shot Fermos a look of utter disbelief.

[Black] “Dear? Duckling?”

[Fermos] “The men have taken a liking to him. He’s the youngest of the Tiwakan now, in spirit if not in age. They find his earnestness… charming.”

[Black] “He’s obsessive.”

[Fermos] “And isn't that why he’s so ‘charming’? He follows you around like a hatchling imprinting on its mother.”

[Black] “The problem is that he’s imprinting on Liene, not me.”

[Fermos] “Ah. I see. So that’s where the shoe pinches.”

Fermos suppressed a groan. It wasn't a secret that Klima was fanatically devoted to the Princess.

During training, the man—who usually possessed a terrifying level of focus—would occasionally get distracted and take a blow to the head, and always because Liene’s silhouette had flickered in the distance.

He had become the 'youngest' of the Tiwakan not out of a lack of skill, but because of his singular desire to be the Shield of Arsak.

Fermos didn't see it as a problem. An assassin’s past made him a perfect bodyguard, and a devotion that bordered on worship would ensure he never failed his post.

[Fermos] “Surely that makes her safer? The boy doesn't have an irreverent bone in his body. He wouldn't dream of… well, anything untoward.”

[Black] “I knew that.”

[Fermos] “Then what is it?”

[Black] “It bothers me. It doesn't matter who it is—having anyone hovering that close to her is an irritant.”

[Fermos] “Ah…”

Fermos, who was notoriously illiterate in the language of romance, finally understood.

So that’s it. My Lord is simply a jealous beast who wants everyone out of his territory. 

[Fermos] “Shall I replace her guard with someone else, then?”

[Black] “...No. Renfel is the best man for the job.”

[Fermos] “Exactly. We’ve already settled this, haven't we?”

[Black] “Still bothers me.”

[Fermos] “...”

Deciding it was best to change the subject before Black started listing the ways he wanted to maim his own subordinates, Fermos pivoted to the task at hand.

[Fermos] “The Cardinal. Do you actually trust him? You were the one who elevated him to the position, after all.”

[Black] “I don't trust him. He was merely… convenient. He helped us navigate the wedding and that gods-forsaken treaty.”

[Fermos] “True. But twenty-one years ago… was he on their side?”

[Black] “As I recall.”

In Black’s mind, a memory flickered—the voice of Sir Henton as he held the young Prince in his arms.

—God will remember what you have done.

A member of House Kleinfelter had sneered in response.

—Will He? I suspect the priesthood will see things our way. Since it was the gods who cursed the Gainers' line, we are merely the instruments of divine will.

That was when Black had realized that the temple was not a sanctuary.

The Cardinal was the Voice of Gods; whether the gods offered a blessing or a curse, it was the Cardinal who delivered the verdict.

[Fermos] “Then his current state—those horrific scars—must mean the alliance soured.”

[Black] “Either it soured, or he was a pawn intended to be discarded from the start.”

[Fermos] “Both are likely. But those marks weren't meant to kill. They looked like the aftermath of prolonged torture. The Kleinfelters must have thought Manau knew something.”

[Black] “They likely did. And when torture failed, they installed a new Cardinal to seize control of the temple. Still, we have to talk to him. He might be the only one who knows what 'the key' actually is.”

[Fermos] “Indeed.”

They reached the foot of the temple stairs. From here, they would have to continue on foot.

*****

Thump. Thump… Thump.

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed in the corridor and then stopped.

Knock. Knock.

[Unknown] “Your Highness? Are you in there?”

[Liene] “...?”

Liene recognized the voice. It was the Captain of the Castle Guard. She signaled Klima to remove his hand from her mouth, and he obeyed, looking sheepish as he stepped back.

[Liene] “Yes. Come in.”

The Captain entered, blinking in the darkness.

[Captain] “Your Highness? What are you doing in the dark? And who is this…?”

[Liene] “I was going through the records when a candle tipped over and went out. We were just fumbling in the dark. This man is my personal guard, assigned by Lord Tiwakan.”

[Captain] “I see. I hadn't heard anything about a personal guard…”

[Liene] “It was a recent arrangement. Regardless, why are you seeking me at this hour? Has something happened?”

[Captain] “Yes, Your Highness. Sir Weroz has returned. I thought it best to inform you immediately.”

[Liene] “Good heavens! Sir Weroz?”

The man had been missing for over a month. Liene stood up abruptly, her heart racing.

[Liene] “Is he in the castle? Where is he? Did he ask for me?”

[Captain] “There is… a problem, Your Highness.”

[Liene] “What kind of problem?”

[Captain] “He is severely injured.”

[Liene] “Injured? How badly?”

[Captain] “He can barely move. We’ve set up a bed for him in the guard’s quarters for the time being.”

[Liene] “Then I’m going to him. Lead the way.”

[Captain] “Of course, Your Highness.”

The Captain bowed and turned to lead.

Klima reached out, tentatively catching the edge of Liene’s sleeve.

[Klima] “Perhaps… perhaps it would be better to wait until morning?”

[Liene] “Why? Is there a reason to wait?”

[Klima] “No, just… It’s very late. And the atmosphere is…”

[Liene] “Sir Weroz is a dear friend and a loyal subject. I won't turn my back on him just because it’s late.”

[Klima] “I… I understand.”

He let go of her sleeve, but the tension didn't leave his face. He looked uneasy, his eyes darting toward the shadows of the hallway.

[Klima] “Please… be careful, Your Highness.”

Liene dismissed his concern as nerves. This was his first real assignment as a bodyguard, after all. He had reacted as if an assassin were at the door, but it was only the Captain.

[Liene] “I’ll be fine.”

She gave Klima’s hand a brief, reassuring squeeze before following the Captain.

She still couldn't believe Weroz was finally back.

******

[Captain] “In here, Your Highness. He hasn't regained consciousness yet.”

Weroz was a patchwork of splints and bandages. The sight made Liene’s breath hitch.

[Liene] “Gods… what happened to him?”

The air in the guard’s quarters was thick with tension.

Ever since the Tiwakan had been named the official Knights of Arsak, a simmering resentment had grown between them and the original Castle Guard.

The Tiwakan saw the guards as obsolete; the guards saw the mercenaries as invaders.

The fact that every mercenary had been knighted while only a few guards held titles made the friction even worse.

Fermos and Randall had begun restructuring the defense protocols, which improved security but deepened the guards' bitterness.

Weroz’s return had only added fuel to the fire. He hadn't returned alone; he had been brought by strangers—men who carried swords and wore the hardened expressions of warriors.

Tiwakan were naturally suspicious, watching the newcomers with predatory eyes. The Castle Guard, however, insisted that these men were heroes who had saved their brother-in-arms.

[Captain] “We don't know the full story. The men who brought him say they found him collapsed on the road. When he woke briefly, he begged them to take him to Nauk.”

[Liene] “I see.”

Liene looked at Weroz, her heart heavy.

In a way, Weroz’s month of suffering had been for nothing. The secrets he had tried to uncover about Lord Tiwakan were now things Liene knew and accepted—scars they were healing together.

She feared he would feel a sense of futility when he finally woke.

[Liene] “Where is the physician? Is he on his way?”

[Captain] “I was actually waiting for your permission to send for one, given the hour.”

[Liene] “Send someone immediately. He’s clearly been treated, but we don't know how long ago that was. He needs a physician now.”

[Captain] “Yes, Your Highness. At once.”

[Liene] “And the men who brought him? What is the plan for them?”

[Captain] “They are staying in the quarters. They seem to expect a reward, but I needed to consult you… Though Tiwakan is insisting we pay them and throw them out tonight.”

The Captain’s expression hardened into a mask of cold resentment.

[Captain] “Even though they are guests who saved one of our own.”

[Liene] “And why is Tiwakan insisting on that?”

[Captain] “They claim the men's identities can’t be verified. But they brought Sir Weroz home! What better verification is there than that?”

[Liene] “What do these men want?”

[Captain] “They are exhausted. They want to rest and recover. It’s a long journey, and finding lodgings outside the castle walls at this hour is impossible. Money is useless if you have nowhere to spend it.”

[Liene] “I will speak with Tiwakan. For now, get the physician. The Guard’s only focus should be Weroz’s recovery.”

[Captain] “Princess… surely you aren't taking the side of Tiwakan again?”

[Liene] “Captain. You are aware that 'Tiwakan' is now the name of the Arsak Guardian Knights, are you not? To speak of 'sides' is inappropriate.”

[Captain] “...I misspoke. I will do as you command.”

He retreated, though his loyalty was clearly clouded by his distaste for the newcomers.

Liene turned away from him and took Weroz’s hand.

[Liene] “Sir Weroz… you’ve been through so much. Please, come back to us.”

Under the flickering candlelight, Weroz’s eyelids gave a tiny, almost imperceptible flutter.

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