Chapter 89

Chapter 89

Blonde hair and blue eyes, along with stunning beauty, were the characteristics of the royal family of Porcana. Pahell had blue eyes and was known for his good looks, and even Duke Harmatti was also a handsome man with blonde hair.

Princess Damia possessed all these royal traits, making her a rare beauty. Even her perplexed and frowning face had its charm purely because of her outstanding looks.

What is Princess Damia doing here?'

Pahell's camp had expected the princess to be in the royal castle. Urich was puzzled.

"Make a sound, and I'll wring your neck in a second. Got it?" Urich threatened with a smile. Damia nodded.

'I feel like Im going to throw up.'

Damia had never encountered such a foul smell. She felt nauseated.

"Cough, cough."

Urich removed his fingers from Damia's mouth. The princess leaned over to spit out the brown-tainted saliva as she gagged from the foul stench and taste.

"Do you have any water I can wash myself with? I had to roll around in a pile of shit so Im feeling extra disgusting right now."

Urich looked around and found a basin with water. He washed his hands and face first.

"Who are you?" Damia said as she drew her self-defense dagger and pointed it at Urich. She didn't rashly call for guards.

"My name is Urich and just put away that childrens toy. You siblings are the same, huh? The first thing you do when you both see me is pull out your little knife."

Urich strode forward toward Damia and grabbed the dagger by the blade.

Clang!

Damia couldn't match Urich's strength. The dagger flew against the wall.

"Ah, ah."

Damia stared at the dagger which now lay on the floor.

"Save your toys for when youre playing house."

Urich's palm, which had grabbed the dagger by its blade, showed no blood, only slightly split calluses on his bearpaw-like hand.

"If you belong to the prince's faction, you will kneel before me. I am Damia Lineu Porcana. If you serve Varca, you should serve me equally as you serve him!"

Damia spoke stiffly, struggling to withstand Urich's imposing aura. It felt like her legs were going to give way any moment now.

"Nope, I'm a mercenary. My employer is Pahell... err Varca, that's all. I only listen to what my employer tells me. So, I have no reason to listen to you."

Damia's eyes widened. She had heard the rumors about Pahell hiring a group of mercenaries in his effort to escape the Porcana kingdom.

'Urich's Brotherhood.'

She now clearly understood who she was dealing with.

"Mercenary Leader Urich."

"You know me?" Urich spoke, briefly checking the corridor outside the room. Nobody was around the room.

Click.

After scouting, Urich locked the door. The sound startled Damia, and her eyes were filled with fear. The man in front of her was a mercenary who was solely driven by money. Loyalty or chivalry was too much to expect from such men.

'The worst-case scenario... I dont even want to think about it. Such a beastly man.'

Damia knew her own beauty. Any sane man would desire her. Blonde and blue-eyed beauty, the rarity of royal blood. Any man would feel the urge to conquer her.

"Sit down. I won't talk long. I'm here for Duke Harmattis head. Guide me to him. You seem to be a hostage, and since youre Pahell's sister, I think I can trust you. Ah, when I say Pahell, I mean Varca. He talks about you a lot."

Urich was endlessly arrogant. His boundless confidence was rooted in his physical strength. He always trusted his body, which had never betrayed him thus far. If there was something that Urich wanted to do, he did it.

I dont think youve heard what I said but this isnt something for a mere mercenary to do. I compliment your effort to sneak in all the way here, but if I shout now, you will be dead in minutes."

Damia tried to regain control of this exchange by using threats. Urich only scoffed.

"Youre going to scream? If you even gulp a little louder than normal, my hand will snap your fragile neck. Itll be easy, too. You think I can't kill you? Maybe if I was a knight, but I'm a barbarian. Ruthless, heartless, no morals or conscience. I'll tell your precious little brother it was an accident, and he'll believe me."

Urich's shoulders moved with his breath. His eyes were fierce like a buffalos and his toes were twitching, ready to pounce at any moment.

To Damia, Urich was an entity beyond her understanding. She was terrified of him.

"Take me to the prince. That by itself will be a great achievement. Assassination is nothing but a hopeful suicide. Mercenary leader Urich, I will give you a way out of here. Seems I've found my own salvation too."

Damia bit her lower lip lightly. Urich pondered, then spoke.

"Since you're Pahell's sister, I'll trust you. But remember, no one who lies to me stays unharmed."

Urich warned. He realized something while talking to Damia.

'Shes a temptress.'

Old tribal warriors always advised caution with thoughtful women. Men never understood women, and that made them an enigma to them. The unknown always brought curiosity and fear.

* * *

The nobles staying at the Harmatti Castle all had a dream in common: to possess the greatest beauty of Porcana, even if just for one night.

Princess Damia's stay at the Harmatti Castle was an open secret. Though she was called 'lady' by the nobles, they all knew her identity.

In the midst of what might be our last days in this tragic era... what comes to mind is your gentleness. If you bring your boat beneath the garden tonight, I will gladly run barefoot to lower the rope of joy. The flower of pleasure, remembering our meeting, waits with its bud closed.

Count Zairon, who was still unmarried, was thrilled to receive this note, handed over by an illiterate maid.

"She noticed me!"

Count Zairon had seen Princess Damia before at the Harmatti Castle. He had greeted her with his eyes, but she turned her head away, seemingly ignoring him.

'She wasn't ignoring me, she was just shy! What a feisty woman.'

Two years ago, Zairon had met Princess Damia at a banquet. They conversed at length with both sides seemingly enjoying each others company, and he even thought if things went well, he could have led her to a secluded garden.

'If only Prince Varca hadn't interrupted... That foolish prince! Always in my way, even with this war!'

At that time, Prince Varca had cheerfully intruded between Damia and Zairon. The mood was broken, and since then, Zairon had no chance to face her again.

"Our eyes felt a sense of connection. She must have been waiting for a chance to meet me."

The war was leaning against them, but Count Zairon, a loyalist to Harmatti, had no other plan. Harmatti still held his lords with a strong grip.

'If luck turns sour, even my head might roll.'

Even if Prince Varca wins, minor lords like Zairon wont be killed. Executing all lords after a rebellion creates administrative gaps and provokes backlash from interconnected noble families. Key conspirators like Duke Harmatti or Duke Sever would be executed, and others might be freed after a ransom. That was the nature of noble civil wars. The only real casualties were always the commoners.

'If the princess is truly smitten by me, perhaps I can aim for a consort position.'

In a royal family, a princess was often used for arranged marriages that would benefit the family, but exceptions did exist.

"A ray of light in the darkness."

With his groin region already excited, Zairon envisioned the lovely princess vividly. He chuckled, already imagining their marriage and later life.

"Even her handwriting is seductive. Can't wait to see if she's as enticing in bed. Heh."

Zairon carefully folded the note, tucking it into his pocket. He ordered his servants to prepare a small boat and brought out his cherished wine. For dinner, he prepared some meat, which was now a rarity.