The Sand Bride - Chapter 48

The organizer of the meeting was Greta. Now twenty years old, she had wanted to wage war immediately upon ascending the throne. Though it was an age-old tradition for hot-blooded royals to seek glory through bloodshed upon coronation, Greta was different.

Rather than vague notions of glory and brutality, she pushed for war with meticulously crafted plans and unwavering resolve. This was why the Senate, who would have normally dismissed it with persuasion, was startled into convening this meeting.

When Karzhen entered the conference room, all those who had been whispering rose from their seats and paid their respects. Before sitting, Karzhen slowly scanned their faces. Their cheeks were flushed—whether from heated debate even before the official start was unclear.

Once he took his seat, the meeting began in earnest. The senators bombarded Greta with questions like hunting dogs that had spotted bleeding prey. Each time, Greta flawlessly parried their inquiries.

However, the senators balked at the idea of waging war against a country that wasn’t even a small city-state. Though their nation had been founded through war, that was a tale of turbulent times.

Now, war required justification. Only then could they maintain the tributes from the southeastern regions, the merchants from those lands, and the profits they brought.

Of course, if war broke out based on sheer military strength alone, victory was assured, and the gains would be substantial—but they needed a solid reason first. A pretext to prevent other nations from clucking their tongues in disapproval, from branding Gharyam a mad country that slaughtered without cause and slamming shut the doors of trade.

Greta’s face twisted in disgust at the senators’ fretful objections. She spoke without hesitation.

“How stubbornly rigid you’ve all become. Since when have we lived worrying about their opinions? Especially when half of them share our blood, yet we don’t even care about that.”

The senators’ faces stiffened slightly at her blunt words. Though Greta was outwardly every bit a Kemut, her mother had been a woman from the southeastern regions.

Greta’s mother had been sold—or rather, married off—to Gharyam due to political strife in her homeland, where she bore children before abandoning her life there, unable to endure it.

In a culture that looked down on the weak, epitomized by those from the southeast, Greta’s lineage was a fatal flaw for a ruler. Yet she had overcome it, not just in appearance but by embodying royalty more than anyone else, securing the throne.

However, when Karzhen heard the name of the country Greta sought to wage war against, he studied her with a peculiar gaze.

Was it because she wanted to bury the weakness of her bloodline—being the daughter of a woman from the feeble southeastern lands? Or was it purely for material gain? For now, it was unclear, but his sharp intuition told him Greta’s desire for war wasn’t solely for those reasons.

There seemed to be another motive behind her fervent push for war.

“Your Majesty, times have changed. Starting a war without justification will unsettle other nations.”

“There is a reason.”

At the senator’s concerned words, Greta smiled confidently.

“So before you oppose me, perhaps you should consider something else?”

Tap. Tap. Having finished speaking, Greta drummed her fingers on the table, waiting for Karzhen’s input. Since Hakan had abstained, if Karzhen supported Greta’s proposal, war would be inevitable. Karzhen grinned and spoke.

“Fine, Greta. Then let’s hear this reason of yours.”

Greta smiled assuredly. She ordered one of her attendants guarding the conference room to bring in a certain woman.

The attendant opened the door, stepped out, and soon returned escorting someone. Karzhen’s eyes flickered with surprise upon seeing the figure.

“This is the reason.”

As Greta finished speaking, the newcomer knelt in greeting. A woman with hair as white as snow. Karzhen recognized that face.

“I am Bianca.”

The woman who had been with Greta—and Esther—that day.

* * *

The meeting ended with Greta’s victory. After hearing the origins and testimony of the woman she brought, the senators unanimously approved the war.

Though the official declaration and full-scale mobilization would take time, their victory was assured. The target country, despite its glossy exterior, was rotten to the core.

At the far end, attendants and slaves scattered to clear a path. Hakan watched from a distance as his brother strode proudly down that path.

Despite the considerable distance, Hakan could clearly see the unusual softness in Karzhen’s eyes and the slight upward curve of his lips. Like a predator that had just gorged itself, he looked satisfied.

Watching this, Hakan bit his lip. He knew exactly where Karzhen had briefly stopped before attending the meeting today. That head of sandy hair, that pale, slender body, those turquoise eyes……. Hakan chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously.

The Karzhen he knew would never let a woman live after she had struck him from behind and fled—no matter how intimate they had been. She should have been torn apart long ago.

When Hakan had asked why Karzhen still kept her despite recapturing her, he had assumed it was to inflict greater despair—to kill her at the coronation. But that hadn’t happened either. After the coronation, the woman remained alive, occupying a wing of Karzhen’s palace.

When Hakan pressed why he still kept her, Karzhen had shrugged and said it didn’t matter when he killed her—he’d do it once he got bored. Yet Hakan couldn’t shake the unease swelling in his chest.