To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 152

“This… is a military insignia, isn’t it?” Irel asked in shock.

She recognized it from her time visiting the royal palace, having seen similar markings on the uniforms and cloaks of soldiers. Varkan nodded and explained further.

“More precisely, it’s a mark that’s stamped on military supplies destined for the royal capital’s defense forces.”

“Why would that be in the barbarians’ hideout?” Irel asked, her confusion deepening. Perhaps the barbarians had stolen the supplies? It wasn’t unthinkable, given the harsh environment they lived in.

“If it were supplies from the western forces, sure,” Varkan replied. “But this is from the capital’s defense army, not something easily accessible to a group of barbarians.”

Irel frowned, the situation becoming stranger by the second. “Wait, how can you even tell the difference between military insignias?”

Varkan cast his eyes down, looking somewhat sheepish, before answering, “One of my business ventures involves military supplies.”

What? That didn’t make sense. Why would someone plotting a rebellion be involved in supplying military goods to the very kingdom they planned to overthrow? And why would the royal capital even accept such a deal?

“How is that even possible?” she asked, suspicion growing.

“I have a frontman running the operation for me,” Varkan explained, raising a finger to his lips in a playful, conspiratorial gesture.

That made sense. The kingdom would never have approved contracts with Varkan directly, knowing his ambitions. But with someone else as the public face of the business, they had no reason to suspect anything. It was, in a way, brilliant.

Irel couldn’t help but marvel at how deeply woven Varkan’s deceptions were. How far does this man’s corruption go?

“Know your enemy to win,” Varkan said with a grin, noticing her gaze. “And I have to control the supplies myself to… well, manipulate things as needed.”

Irel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What kind of ‘manipulations’ are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing serious,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Maybe slipping a few rusty swords into the mix. Mixing some of the gunpowder with flour. Painting over moldy arrow shafts to make them look new.”

Nothing serious? Irel could hardly believe how casually he admitted to sabotaging military equipment. But then again, his sabotage was weakening his enemies, which could only benefit their cause. She decided not to comment further.

After all, if the enemy’s forces are weakened, it’s to our advantage. She reminded herself that they were future rebels, and she, too, was now a part of that rebellion. Mother, Father, forgive me, she thought silently.

“So why do these supplies end up with the barbarians?” she asked, steering the conversation back to the mystery at hand.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out as well,” Varkan admitted, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “If we can uncover the truth, it could be a powerful tool to sway the western forces to our side. The king sent me here to die, but why should I go down quietly?”

Varkan’s eyes glinted with the thrill of a challenge, his mind already plotting a way to turn the tide in their favor.

He really enjoys this, Irel thought, watching his eyes light up like he was playing an exciting game of chess. There was something intoxicating about how he could take such a precarious situation and see it as an opportunity.

***

The sun was high, shining brightly over the western lands. Irel wore a light muslin dress, casually twirling her parasol out of boredom. She was just about to let out a yawn when a familiar voice called from behind her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Have you been here long?”

“Varkan.”

Irel turned with a smile, and as always, he was walking toward her looking effortlessly handsome. With the sun behind him, his fiery red hair glowed like a halo of light.

“You look stunning today,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her before adding with a sly smile, “Like a lovely white datura flower.”

“Why, thank yo—wait, what?” Irel’s smile faltered as she processed his words. White datura? Isn’t that a poisonous flower?

Her brows furrowed, and she glared at him as he burst into laughter and playfully nipped at her nose.

“You’re too cute,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Irel heard a sharp tsk from behind just as she managed to tear her eyes away from Varkan’s face. She turned slightly, startled, to see none other than Tarik Varel and Lieutenant Harty walking towards them.

“Good morning, Lord Varel. Lieutenant Harty,” Irel greeted politely, trying to mask her earlier fluster.

As always, Tarik wore a stern expression, his eyes briefly flicking over Irel and Varkan with disapproval. To him, the young couple’s lighthearted demeanor seemed out of place in the harsh reality of the borderlands. Without a word, he brushed past her, hardly acknowledging her greeting.

“I apologize for that, Lady Irel. Good morning,” Harty offered her a sheepish smile in return, softening the tension as he followed after his lord.

Just behind them came Joshua, his usual air of melancholic thoughtfulness in tow.

“Don’t worry, my father’s always on edge before an expedition. Don’t take it personally,” Joshua whispered to Irel, smiling gently before glancing at her with concern.

“You’re really going to go? It could be dangerous at the frontlines,” he said, his voice tinged with worry.

Indeed, Varkan had insisted on leading an official expedition to deal with the barbarians. While the Kitans crawling out of the Abyss were an ongoing problem, the barbarians were a threat that could be addressed directly. He wanted to see their situation with his own eyes and eradicate the threat once and for all.

Tarik Varel had been deeply conflicted, still reeling from the loss of his eldest son at the hands of the barbarians. But Lieutenant Harty had supported Varkan’s suggestion.

“This is a good opportunity, my lord. It’s time to root out the barbarians once and for all,” Harty had said, his trusted words giving Tarik the push he needed.

Thus, the decision was made. Today, they would venture beyond the border to the frontlines, determined to find and destroy the elusive barbarian stronghold.

“I wish I could go with you,” Joshua muttered, looking truly regretful. But with Tarik leaving, someone had to remain behind to manage Namiève Fortress. Joshua’s role was to stay and ensure everything ran smoothly in their absence.

“Don’t worry, Joshua. Varkan will be with me,” Irel said with a soft smile, trying to reassure him. But before Joshua could respond, a voice from above chimed in.

“I’ll be there too, Lady Irel,” Yan Louis said, hovering nearby.

“You’re no good in a fight, Yan Louis,” Irel replied without hesitation, her tone as matter-of-fact as ever.

Yan Louis’ pale face visibly deflated at the cold truth, and he looked like he might vanish into thin air out of sheer offense.

“Joshua,” Irel continued, ignoring Yan Louis’ sulkiness. Her voice softened again. “I’m leaving Phaesus and Jin behind to help guard the fortress. If anything happens, you can count on them.”

Originally, Jin had intended to join them on the mission as her bodyguard. However, in this situation, Yan Louis’ abilities were more useful in locating the hidden barbarian base. The fortress would still be well-defended with Phaesus and Jin stationed here.

With so many people leaving the fortress for the mission, it was natural to worry about the safety of Namiève and its people. But with Jin and Phaesus guarding the rear, they would be ready to deal with any Kitans that might crawl down from the mountains.

Joshua relaxed at Irel’s words, smiling as the tension in his shoulders eased. “It’s the first time we’ve had so many Ha Mash gathered in the west. It feels reassuring,” he said, trying to stay optimistic despite the grim reality that such a concentration of Masakas meant the situation in the west was dire. Still, Joshua had a talent for finding hope even in the darkest of times.

He’ll make a better leader than he thinks, Irel mused, watching him. But before she could dwell on the thought, someone else stepped forward, visibly displeased.

It was Masaka Erich, the last of their group to arrive. His pale blue hair contrasted starkly with his ashen complexion, making his discomfort at the mission—and at Varkan’s presence—painfully obvious. And it was no surprise. After all, during their first expedition together, Varkan had thrown Erich into the middle of a Kitan swarm to “test his abilities.”

“That’s all just an act, you know. Playing the victim,” Varkan whispered quickly, preemptively defending himself. Irel could only smile at his attempt to play innocent as she climbed into the carriage.

“Take care, Irel,” Joshua called out, his voice carrying the weight of genuine concern. “The borderlands are dangerous.”

“So,” Erich interrupted with a skeptical expression, “what’s the exact plan?”

Varkan, who had been waiting for this question, eagerly spread out a map. It showed the border and the vast, unforgiving sand dunes where the barbarians were believed to hide.

“The desert is a flat, open landscape, so mirages appear frequently. Mirages, however, are merely distorted reflections of something real. If we search the area thoroughly, we’ll likely find the barbarians’ base hidden within,” Varkan explained, marking the map with an ‘X’ where Yan Louis had found the military insignia.

He drew a large circle around the area. “Somewhere within this perimeter, the barbarians’ hideout is located.”

“That’s a pretty wide area to search,” Erich said, his tone sharp with frustration. It was clear the previous tension between him and Varkan hadn’t disappeared. Yan Louis, standing nearby, looked nervous.

“He’s going to blow up, isn’t he?” Yan whispered anxiously.

“Shh, don’t say such things. And for the record, my fiancé does not blow people up,” Irel whispered back, giving Yan a look of innocence that contradicted the tension around them.

Varkan, however, was ready with a retort. “If I knew the exact location, do you think we’d be doing this the hard way?” His smile was as bright as ever, but there was an edge to it.

“I’ve been here less than a week, yet you’ve been stationed here for over a year. If you haven’t figured it out yet, perhaps the fault lies with your abilities, not my plan.”

It was a sharp jab, delivered with a smile, but it hit its mark. Erich’s face reddened with anger as he jumped to his feet.

“You—! Ever since last time, your attitude has been—!”

“Enough,” Tarik Varel’s commanding voice cut through the rising tension as he fixed his sharp gaze on Varkan. “Is there more to this plan, young Ha Mash?”

Varkan, recognizing the importance of staying respectful, immediately dropped his teasing tone. His face became serious as he responded, “Have you ever hunted rabbits, my lord?”

Tarik’s eyebrows knitted together, curious but wary. Lieutenant Harty clapped his hands, answering eagerly, “Ah, yes! You set fire to the burrows, forcing the rabbits to flee so you can catch them.”

Tarik’s expression shifted, suspicion dawning. “You’re not suggesting…”

“Exactly,” Varkan said, a pleased grin spreading across his face. He pointed to the map again, this time drawing his finger around the perimeter of the marked area. “We’ll burn this entire section, from here to here.”

The meaning was clear: Varkan intended to set fire to the outer ring of the desert and flush the barbarians out of hiding—essentially burning half the territory to the ground.