But the gleaming eyes remained glued to her face.
Looking down at her with an expression mixed with confusion, fury, and so strange heat, the man muttered,
“Who in the world are you...?”
“Can't you tell just by looking?”
Talia lifted her chin and sneered.
“I'm that ‘vile woman born a bastard’ you were barking about.”
The man's face turned red.
Only now did everything seem to fall neatly into place inside his head. The haze of shock vanished from his eyes, and clarity returned.
Blowing hot breath through his nostrils, he shouted heatedly,
“No matter what, what kind of outrage is this?! I am both a knight and a noble! Where in the world are nobles treated like this—”
“And where in the world is there so law permitting people to openly insult imperial royalty?”
Twisting her lips, Talia cut him off.
“If you humiliate an Imperial Princess in public and commit insubordination against the future ruler, you'd have no grounds for complaint even if your head rolled. You should be grateful I ended it with nothing more than a wine bath.”
“I rely spoke out of loyal devotion—!”
“Go bark to a dog.”
Her eyes glittered viciously as she lashed out at him.
“Loyal devotion? Honest counsel? Don't make laugh. You were just barking out your complaints however you pleased.”
Overwheld by the venom she exuded, the man flinched and retreated a step.
Watching him with mocking amusent, Talia spoke in that soft voice she always used when deliberately scraping at people's nerves.
“If you pity Aila so much, why don't you run off and comfort her yourself? Who knows? Perhaps the perfect princess adored by the whole Empire will bestow her favor upon you.”
She slowly looked him over from head to toe and let out a frivolous laugh.
“Actually, no. You won't do. My sister surprisingly cares a lot about appearances.”
His face now looked as though it were on fire.
Varkas quietly watched the heat in the man's eyes transform into fierce hostility.
Temptation turned into enmity.
Desire swiftly beca rage.
That was usually how n reacted after encountering her.
Veins bulged across the whites of the man's eyes as he leaned forward as though ready to charge her.
That was enough.
Varkas pulled the hood back over her head and covered the back of her small head with his hand, drawing her tightly against his chest.
Talia sucked in a startled breath and flailed her arms.
Holding her firmly when she tried to pull away, he carefully studied the man's face.
Despite panting with humiliation, the man looked almost desperate to snatch the woman back from his embrace.
Grinding his teeth hard, he shouted,
“Hand her over this instant! I cannot let this insult pass!”
“And what if you don't? What are you going to do, cross blades with ? Or perhaps—”
Talia, who had been pushing away his hand and yelling at the man, abruptly fell silent.
It seed she had finally sensed the sinister atmosphere surrounding him.
Varkas carefully concealed her face beneath the hood and examined the reactions of those gathered.
Most were simply stunned.
Yet among them, not a few pairs of eyes glead with interest and curiosity.
There were also plenty openly displaying hostility.
It seed his plan of gradually securing his retainers' obedience and establishing his foundation without flaw had already gone awry.
Suppressing a sigh, he turned back toward the giant man.
“I suppose I must repeat my wife's question. What exactly will you do if you don't let it pass?”
“I demand an apology for the insult!”
Varkas stroked his chin as though seriously considering the demand.
Alex Gutvan was an influential figure in the southeastern regions.
Among the warriors of the Khan tribes who revered martial prowess, there were many who followed this man blindly.
Having established himself firmly as a local lord while commanding hundreds of powerful mounted warriors, he had probably convinced himself that so inexperienced youth in his early twenties could be bent to his will.
His appearance imdiately after Varkas's return and the commotion he caused were likely attempts to seize the initiative.
Varkas crooked the corner of his mouth.
“You insist on receiving an apology?”
“Yes! Apologize respectfully before everyone for mocking and humiliating !”
“And what do you think?”
Varkas lowered his gaze to Talia.
“Do you intend to grant his request?”
At once, a betrayed look flew toward him.
The chandelier lights danced across the deep blue irises that always scraped at the depths of him.
“I'd rather die. I'd bite my tongue off first!”
“So she says.”
As he shifted his indifferent gaze back toward the man, he could see sinister malice blooming within the bloodshot eyes.
The man spat out the words.
“Then, Young Master, you shall apologize in your wife's place. No matter what, I will collect compensation for the insult I have suffered.”
Sharp breaths were sucked in throughout the hall.
Even those who had attempted to test him seed shocked by the excessive demand.
Varkas paused before slowly opening his mouth.
Then—
An urgent hand stopped him.
Lowering his gaze, he frowned when he saw her bloodless face.
Gripping his arm tightly, Talia cried out in a cracked voice,
“Don't. If you apologize, I won't forgive you!”
Sothing churned inside his stomach again.
Until now, he had assud that sensation was disgust.
But perhaps...
Perhaps it wasn't.
Removing her hand, he slowly walked toward the man.
The fool's eyes still remained fixed upon her.
Blocking that gaze with his own body, Varkas spoke softly into the wine-scented face.
“We are easterners, are we not? If there is sothing you desire, you seize it with strength.”
“That ans...”
Suspicion appeared across the man's panting face.
Varkas calmly continued.
“Let us settle this by traditional ans. A duel. If you win, I shall apologize respectfully before everyone.”
Excited murmurs swept through the banquet hall.
Contrary to expectation, the man did not imdiately seize upon the offer.
Instead, he scrutinized Varkas cautiously.
Perhaps half of this man's violent behavior was rely an act.
Finally, with crafty eyes, he spoke.
“Do you even understand what a duel ans? A duel in these lands is not so childish ga played in the Imperial Palace. For us, a duel ans a desperate struggle with our lives on the line.”
Talia inhaled sharply and seized his coat.
Ignoring her, he replied indifferently.
“So, are you afraid?”
Thick veins rose across the man's broad forehead.
After openly sizing him up, he sneered.
“At least your spirit is worthy of an easterner.”
“Your answer?”
“Very well. I accept.”
The mont he answered, voices burst out everywhere.
Varkas nodded toward Daren, who stood frozen in bewildernt.
“Prepare the horses and armor.”
“The sun has already set. Let us wait until dawn tomorrow—”
“Why drag this out until then?”
Interrupting Daren, Varkas looked up at the man provocatively.
“The Khan people learn to ride and fight before they can even walk. Does the setting sun pose any problem for us?”
“Not the slightest.”
The man growled in reply.
“You there! Bring my armor and weapons imdiately!”
“Sir Gutvan, please calm yourself and discuss this tomorrow—”
When a young man who appeared to be his aide urgently intervened, Gutvan struck him in the face with his fist.
“Don't make repeat myself!”
Clutching his bleeding nose, the youth hurried out of the hall.
By now, excitent had begun spreading throughout the room.
The man himself was equally worked up.
Enunciating every word, he declared,
“The duel shall be fought before everyone. If I win, you will kneel and apologize with your forehead pressed to the ground. A contest fought with our lives deserves at least that much compensation.”
“V-Varkas!”
Frozen by the situation spiraling out of control, Talia stepped in front of him.
Only then did he turn his eyes toward her.
In a faint voice, she muttered,
“I-I'll apologize... I'll apologize, so... don't do sothing pointless...”
The moisture in her voice scraped rcilessly at his insides.
Pulling her robe tighter to conceal her face even more carefully, he lifted expressionless eyes toward the man.
“Very well. I'll grant your wish.”
A deeper smile spread across the man's face.
It was the face of soone already certain of victory.
Like a bear savoring the al before it, Alex Gutvan licked his lips and asked,
“And if you win, Young Master, what will you demand?”
Just then, servants rushed into the hall carrying armor.
Receiving a gauntlet from a nimble young page, Varkas tilted his head slightly.
Even to his own ears, his answer sounded devoid of emotion.
“There is nothing I wish to demand from you.”
Sliding his hand into the steel gauntlet, Varkas slowly added,
“Because if I win...”
“You will never speak again.”
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