Silence filled the room, broken only by the faint crackling of burning wood in the fireplace.
Vaerik stood beside the bed, looking at the weakened girl before him.
Her skin was paler than that of Empire people, carrying the cold tone unique to the north.
Her silver-white short hair was slightly disheveled, her eyes a deep blue, giving a mysterious feeling.
Though slim in build, muscle lines were hidden beneath her taut skin, like a cheetah ready to pounce.
And even in her predicant, her gaze was neither servile nor overbearing, carrying a barely perceptible wariness.
Vaerik asked: "What's your na?"
Siv quietly looked at him, not answering.
"Where are you from?"
Still silent.
"Where were you going?"
The firelight reflected on the girl's calm, undisturbed face. She remained silent as if she hadn't heard.
The kind-hearted lady beside her sighed, gently patting Siv's hand.
Her tone carried so pity: "Poor child, don't be afraid. We're all good people here. The lord saved you and won't harm you."
However, Siv's thoughts were racing.
She knew very well that if she fabricated an identity, she might be exposed.
And if she tried to evade questions, it might arouse suspicion.
The best solution she could think of was to play dumb, not knowing anything when asked.
She didn't want to reveal her true identity, so she simply remained silent.
Unexpectedly, the other person's reaction was even more understanding than she had imagined.
Vaerik pretended to ponder thoughtfully as he looked at her.
After a mont, he seed to reach a conclusion and said calmly: "It seems she has amnesia?"
Siv was montarily stunned, not expecting Vaerik to proactively offer such an explanation.
She slightly lowered her eyes, neither confirming nor denying, tacitly accepting this statent.
Vaerik looked at her silver-white hair, saying casually: "Since you have amnesia, you can stay here for now."
Then he thought briefly, the corner of his mouth revealing a smile with an indiscernible aning: "Your hair is white, so from now on, I'll call you 'Little White.'"
Instantly, Siv's pupils constricted, anger rising fiercely in her heart.
Little White?!
She was the princess of the Cold Moon Tribe, raised with royal education, taught by her father king that she carried noble blood and bore the future of the tribe.
Now she was being given a pet-like na by a southern barbarian?!
Her nails dug deep into her palms as she struggled to contain her anger.
Siv told herself not to reveal her emotions, not to let him perceive her true identity.
So she continued to remain silent, gritting her teeth, not saying a word.
But in her heart, she had already silently noted this southern barbarian who had insulted her.
"Can you read?" Vaerik asked casually, as if rely ntioning it in passing.
Siv, who was controlling her anger, instinctively nodded.
But almost simultaneously, she realized she had made a mistake.
This reaction was too quick, too natural.
In the Cold Moon Tribe, only the noble class had the opportunity to learn southern people's writing and language.
Therefore, although Siv's father extrely hated southerners, he still hired a southern teacher to teach her language and writing.
Now this had beco a potential flaw that might expose her identity.
Siv raised her eyes to secretly observe Vaerik's expression, trying to judge if he had noticed anything.
Vaerik seed unaware of her slip-up, nodding thoughtfully: "Then you'll be my secretary from now on."
"Secretary?"
Siv didn't imdiately understand, as this was a word she had never heard before.
Vaerik explained: "It ans helping record things, handling so miscellaneous matters. Don't worry, it's not difficult, and you won't have to do anything dangerous."
Siv lowered her eyes, falling into thought.
Secretary, it didn't sound like a slave or prisoner status, nor did it seem like dangerous work.
At least compared to being imprisoned, tortured, or even directly executed, this arrangent was much better.
And she didn't seem to have better options.
So Siv nodded slightly, tacitly accepting this arrangent.
This wasn't submission, but endurance, Siv told herself.
Seeing this, the corner of Vaerik's mouth lifted slightly, and then he stood up: "You just woke up, rest well first. We'll talk more when your body recovers."
Having said this, he spoke no more and walked toward the door.
Siv watched Vaerik's retreating figure, her fingertips slightly tightening on the bedding, her eyes complex.
This man hadn't shown obvious malice, but he couldn't be called truly kind either.
What was he thinking?
She couldn't judge for now, nor did she dare to jump to conclusions.
But one thing she was very clear about: no matter what, her ultimate goal would not change.
Survive, then revenge!
On the other side, Vaerik left the room, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, seeming to be in a good mood.
Having Siv as a secretary was indeed a good idea.
Vaerik wasn't concerned about Siv concealing her identity.
He had already learned about Siv's identity through the intelligence system.
Who she was didn't matter; what mattered was that now she was nothing.
Even if there was an opportunity to use Siv's identity in the future, he wouldn't need her consent.
As long as Siv was now within his territory, under his control, that was enough.
Vaerik even found Siv's deliberate concealnt sowhat cute.
Like a stray dog brought ho, not daring to bark, but always vigilant, with its tail slightly tucked.
Neither willing to get close, nor daring to act rashly, afraid that one careless move would result in being slaughtered for at.
As for her ability to write, that was an unexpected bonus.
This way, Hilco's workload could be greatly reduced, and he could finally stop complaining about being drowned in paperwork.
Besides, having a white-haired beauty around would surely improve his work mood, right?
He walked forward in high spirits, turning to the craftsn's workshop, planning to discuss castle-building matters with Mike.
Construction in the Crimson Tide Domain was in full swing.
Thanks to the ease of building semi-subterranean communal dwellings and the hard work of slaves, rows of neat houses had sprung up, the semi-subterranean communal dwellings already taking shape.
It could be called a miracle in the construction history of the Northern Province.
Now knights each had independent rooms, soldiers shared two to a room, free people three to a room, slaves six to a room, and households with families could even apply for independent residences.
Such living arrangents were already a trendous blessing in the barren northern territory.
At least when winter ca, no one would be holess, freezing to death in the snow.
This was almost unimaginable in other territories, but under Vaerik's governance, it had all beco reality.
However, rely settling residents was far from enough.
Now that the foundation of the Crimson Tide Domain was gradually stabilizing, it was ti to allocate half the craftsn and labor to begin building a true lord's castle.
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