Barbarian Quest-Chapter 101

Visit 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐𝘰𝑚 for the best novel reading experience

Regardless of his true feelings, Pahell had to take a strong stance against Urich this time. Being in the middle of the palace, it was also a matter of Pahell's dignity. He was no longer the impetuous prince and had to always show a dignified image to the nobles.

"Well, let's save the scolding for now. Here's the guy who killed Phillion. I don't know how he did it with the deer antler powder though."

Urich dragged Count Kanna to Pahell’s feet.

"...Count Kanna."

Pahell looked down at Count Kanna with a complex expression.

"I-I didn't do it, Your Highness. I swear I am innocent. I often consumed that deer antler powder myself. There's no poison in it. Truly."

Count Kanna pleaded, prostrating on his blood-stained body. He was afraid that he might lose his title and even life.

"So, you still have the energy to lie? If it wasn’t the powder, then why would Phillion just die like that? Might as well confess now. This is your last chance to die without pain."

Count Kanna couldn't fathom Urich's true intention.

‘Is this mercenary really trying to clear my charges, or is he actually trying to kill me?’

Urich grabbed Count Kanna's hand and lifted it.

"Haha, you’re still lying! Maybe plucking out one or two fingernails will do the trick.”

Urich pushed up Count Kanna's fingernails.

Snap.

Count Kanna's fingernail was bent backward and peeled off.

"Argh, ahhhh!"

Count Kanna screamed in agony. Pahell frowned.

"Stop it, Urich."

"Why? He's clearly the one who killed Phillion."

"We don’t have any evidence."

"Since when have I ever looked for evidence? Just say the word, Pahell, let's avenge Phillion right now."

Urich grinned, staring at Pahell.

"Urich!"

Pahell shouted angrily. Urich peeled off another of Count Kanna's fingernails. The screech grew even louder.

"Pahell, you actually don't believe he's the one either. This man didn't kill Phillion. We already know who did."

"Shut up."

"You think the deer antler powder is suspicious? You think Phillion died because of that? If so, let's kill this man right here. Surely he's the one who killed Phillion."

Urich drew a dagger, lightly cutting into Count Kanna's throat. The blade dug deeper, and more blood came oozing out.

"I said stop it! We are going to impose strict punishment through a fair trial! Count Kanna has the right to be tried!"

Urich ignored him. The dagger delved deeper into Count Kanna's throat.

'If killing him helps Pahell come to his senses. And who knows? Maybe he really is the real culprit after all.'

The laughter faded from Urich's eyes. He was genuinely prepared to kill Count Kanna. Urich wasn't one to bluff. If he decided to kill, he killed; if he decided to spare, he spared. Pahell knew this better than anyone else in civilization.

"Uh, uhhh!"

Count Kanna's eyes rolled back. Overcome by extreme fear, he passed out.

"I love my sister, Urich," Pahell spoke earnestly.

"Phillion loved you too. He loved you more than he loved his own life. Does your sister love you as much?" Urich said as he laid the unconscious Count Kanna down.

"I’m going to find that out myself. So, you should..."

Pahell whispered something to Urich as he walked past. Urich nodded slightly.

Urich watched Pahell as he walked away, then sat there for a while before waking Count Kanna who was passed out on the ground.

"You’re an innocent man. Congratulations, Count Deer Antler Powder."

Count Kanna looked up, bewildered. He felt the soreness of the wound in his neck.

* * *

"What about this dress?"

Damia asked her chief maid. She had repeated the process of putting on and taking off dresses several times already.

"It suits you very well."

That was all her chief maid could say. And it wasn't just flattery, but the truth.

'What wouldn't suit the kingdom's most beautiful woman?'

No matter what she wore, Damia's beauty stood out.

"Good, this one it is."

Damia adjusted her dress and rummaged through her jewelry box. She took out a set of earrings and a necklace she had been saving, fearing their light might fade.

'She is truly terrifying.'

The chief maid had been loyal to Damia for a long time, and only she knew who the princess really was.

"My success is your success."

Damia caressed the maid's cheek with her fingernail as if she was scratching it.

The maid grew up with Damia. Her mother was Damia's wet nurse, and they were raised on the same milk. In a sense, she was like a sister to Damia.

'What have I done?'

The maid's hands trembled. Since that day, she has been hounded by nightmares every night. She felt ashamed to face the sun due to the deep guilt of her sins.

"Do not worry. Everything is going as planned," Damia said to her maid with a hug. Her voice was warm enough to soothe the raging anxiety within the maid.

'The royal bloodline.'

The Porcana royal family had an inherent charm. Their voice and appearance easily won anyone's favor. Even knowing it was false, one couldn’t help but follow them when they came face to face with their unparalleled appearance and voice.

"Today, I will change my fate."

Damia smiled.

'Life is a series of despairs, Varca.'

Damia had tasted despair early in her life. Unlike other women, she couldn't just conform to men. She was always full of discontent, questioning everything.

'Why? Why should I be like this?'

'Why can't I do anything?'

'Why is my life's ending already decided for me?'

Even as a princess, being born into this world as a woman meant a predetermined ending. Marrying a good man was supposed to be the purpose and happiness of life. There was no other ending for them.

Damia was not happy with that.

'I choose my own fate.'

Damia opened her eyes that had been closed. Her blue eyes were intense. She remembered the pain of being slapped by her father.

'Varca will be the king.'

That’s what the king said. Since then, a question lingered in Damia's mind, though she never voiced the question aloud.

'Varca and I are equal, so why can't I be the king?'

Varca and Damia were born as twins. As children, they considered each other equals.

'But you can be a king while I am just a man's trophy.'

Their fate was not equal. Damia couldn't change a thing. Her voice was meaningless; no one heeded a woman's words.

‘Uncle Harmatti was the only one who held my hand.'

Only Harmatti, who was driven into a corner, paid attention to what Damia had to say. Perhaps they were drawn to each other due to similar plights.

A strong feeling of inferiority toward a blood relative, so similar yet so different. Had it been someone unreachable, maybe she wouldn't have been jealous.

'Uncle Harmatti must have not mentioned my name before he died.'

Damia sighed in relief several times. If Harmatti, in his despair, had confessed everything, she would have been powerless.

'No personal feelings, Sir Phillion. It's just that you were a more capable knight than I thought.'

It was only a matter of time before Phillion caught that something was off. There were many traces left by Damia in the palace, enough for him to follow those clues right to her feet. From Damia's perspective, she had to kill Phillion before Varca arrived.

"You look beautiful, princess."

The chief maid said to her princess as she withdrew her hand from Damia's necklace. Her voice was trembling because she knew what her princess was going to do that day.

"Your loyalty will be rewarded. I promise you that," Damia got up and headed for the central palace.

"There’s Princess Damia."

"She’s more prettied up than usual. Indeed, the rumors of her beauty weren’t exaggerated."

"She truly is the beauty of the century."

Every time Damia passed by, men's eyes followed her. One of the biggest interests among the kingdom's nobles was Damia's marriage. Who would Damia, now more than old enough to get married, choose? Nobles who were yet to have a wife yet hoped to be that lucky man.

'I heard Varca had an argument with that man Urich today. He must surely be troubled.'

Damia found Urich bothersome. The mercenary was surprisingly sharp-witted, especially for a. barbarian. But most importantly, he wasn't charmed by her beauty. Most men's judgment blurred in front of her, but Urich was different.

Step.

Damia stood at the door. A maid inside opened it, and she entered the room as if she were gliding on her feet.

"I've been waiting for you, sister."

"Just a few days left to call you Varca. You'll be king soon."

Damia replied as she sat down, and the food was served in sequence.

"I remember the times you used to read to me. When I was still playing with wooden soldiers, sister, you had just started reading and were immersed in books. When I asked you what it was, you would spend a long time telling me about the stories from those books."

"That was your strength, Varca. You could listen earnestly to others' stories. Looking into your bright eyes made it so easy for words to flow out of my mouth."

"Were some of those stories made up?"

"I’d say about half were," Damia covered her mouth slyly and laughed.

"See, I had no idea, so I searched here and there for those tales later... I think I read most of the books you did. Perhaps I admired you reading."

"I left you to it because I found it adorable. I often saw you wandering around the library."

"Perhaps my love for books is also thanks to you."

"Since we're twins, our hobbies must have matched as well."

Damia blinked her long eyelashes.

"'Twins come from a single soul.' You used to say that a lot," Varca said as he wiped the meat grease from his fingers with a napkin.

"You remember. I loved that saying and quoted it quite often. Every time I said it, I could feel that you were my other half."

Varca slowly closed his eyes. A smile emerged. It was a pleasant time.

"I believed and followed whatever you said, sister. I might not have felt a mother's touch, but you were my mother and my whole world."

His childhood was coming to an end.

Varca opened his eyes. The boy who had always followed his sister was gone. He wore a mask like when he was facing his other subjects. His eyes turned cold, and a fake half-smile played on his lips.

"I can forgive you for attempting to take my life."

"Where did you hear such nonsense, Varca?"

"...I haven't finished speaking. Do not interrupt me, Sister Damia."

Damia's eyebrows twitched.

"But you really shouldn’t have killed Phillion. Not him."

Varca bit his lower lip, feeling a pang in his heart. He was now finally in a position to bestow things on others, but Phillion was no longer of this world.

"You were always gullible. That's why you get along so well with that mercenary Urich. A king must differentiate right from wrong and know who to trust."

"I trusted you, sister, so I didn’t doubt you for a second. It was almost like how a child never doubts their parents—that’s who you were to me. An absolute good. Even though it was clear who the most dangerous person was..."

"Varca, I..."

"I told you not to interrupt me!"

Varca hurled a glass at the wall. The servants who were serving their dinner had disappeared; only Damia and Varca remained.

Step.

Damia stood up and approached Varca.

"There is a misunderstanding in your heart, Varca."

Damia’s arms wrapped around Varca's neck tenderly. She gently bit his earlobe. Her white fingers freely roamed his body as if she was caressing a lover.

"The royal lineage is strange. After the birth of a son and a daughter, the next generation often has even more blond hair and blue eyes. Ever wondered why, Varca? Why does this trait, the trait that fades in less than three generations in collateral lines, persist in the direct line?" novelbuddy .com

The appealing look of the blonde hair and blue eyes were an advantage for rulers. The ancestors of Porcana must have known this early on. Knowing how much their appearance enchanted people... It was enough to make some even sacrifice their lives.

"Varca... My Varca. The other half of my soul."

Damia breathed into Varca's ear.

Varca held back his tears. He wanted to embrace his sister's warmth right then, but he knew it was poison. It was deception and pretense.