The Forgotten Field - Chapter 110
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 110
“Since this situation arose because of the Sierkan Healer, this much is necessary.”
Lucas’s expression darkened. The thought of Tiuran confined to a solitary cell weighed heavily on his heart.
“What kind of punishment do you think Tiuran will receive?”
“Hard to say. Since the Grand Duke recovered safely, it will likely end with imprisonment.”
Darian replied in a dismissive tone.
“That woman was fortunate. If the Grand Duchess’s condition had been more serious, she would have faced the gallows.”
Lucas frowned, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
Tiuran had been a loyal retainer of House Sierkan for over a decade. Hearing Darian speak so casually of her death stirred a faint resistance within him.
“The woman was simply too frail—that’s what caused this. Why must she be punished so harshly?”
“Young Master Lucas.”
A note of warning entered Darian’s voice.
He tossed a leather purse of silver coins to a merchant before dragging Lucas to one side of the hall.
“I am well aware that you harbor resentment toward the Grand Duchess. But you must cease displaying such hostility openly.”
“I’m not particularly——”
“You are more concerned with the fate of a mere Healer than with the Grand Duchess’s health.”
He spoke as though chiding a child.
“She is the Emperor’s daughter and the mistress of these Eastern Territories. By law, merely harming her warrants capital punishment. That she received only confinement is an extraordinarily lenient judgment.”
Lucas stared intently at Darian’s face.
“You acknowledge the Second Princess as the mistress of the East?”
“What does my acknowledgment matter? It is already so.”
Darian shrugged his broad shoulders.
“We cannot undo a marriage arranged by the Emperor himself. We must accept it, whether we like it or not. What matters now is strengthening the unity of the Eastern Territories.”
Lucas met Darian’s serious gaze with equal weight.
Traveling through various regions of the East with Barcas, he too had come to understand the situation.
The local leaders of each region were preoccupied with consolidating their own power while neglecting security, and as a result, bandits ran rampant throughout the Eastern Territories.
There were capable administrators, but they too seemed to subtly resist rather than offer unconditional loyalty to the new Grand Duke.
Just as Tyron had warned, the order of the Eastern Territories was crumbling silently. Perhaps they should be grateful for the arrival of a powerful new leader like Barcas.
Having reached an unwelcome conclusion, Lucas struggled to lower his rebellious gaze.
“I know that already.”
Still, not wanting to be treated like an obedient child, he added sharply.
“I just need to behave while my brother disciplines the Eastern nobility.”
“Please do exactly that.”
Darian rumbled like a bear.
Lucas refused to yield, offering a smile tinged with sarcasm.
“I’m already doing it. Haven’t you noticed me dodging around like a rat in the sewers to avoid clashing with that woman? I’m keeping my head down even in front of you.”
Unconvinced, Darian raised his thick brows.
He crossed his arms over his chest, hunched his back, and sent a threatening glare.
“That is insufficient. Show proper respect to the Grand Duke and his wife in official settings as well. If you continue speaking disrespectfully, the discipline of the Eastern Territories will——”
“Fine, fine. I understand. So stop nagging me.”
Lucas ascended the stairs with a dismissive snort.
Beyond the railing, he caught sight of Darian glowering at him with undisguised malice.
As if to spite him, Lucas let out a derisive laugh and bolted down the corridor, only to skid to an abrupt halt upon spotting a group of Handmaidens.
The Grand Duke’s attendants were carefully transporting trays laden with dozens of dishes.
‘She’s practically a queen unto herself.’
Lucas’s lips twisted into a sneer, but his expression suddenly darkened.
He couldn’t fathom why he harbored such animosity toward that woman. After all, wasn’t it he who had crossed the line first?
He irritably ran a hand through his hair.
Lucas was acutely aware of his own baseness.
Yet when he recalled the moment of their quarrel, irrational fury surged before guilt could take hold. Perhaps it was the way she had looked at him.
‘…as though I were vermin.’
The instant he met those eyes—eyes that gazed upon him as though he were the most abhorrent thing in existence—he was consumed by an ugly impulse he had never before experienced.
He wanted to break that arrogant woman. He wanted to reduce her to tears.
Such base desires churned within his blood, and he found himself unable to restrain them.
As Lucas retraced those intense impulses, a wave of revulsion washed over him, and he turned away. A horrifying realization struck him—his avoidance of her stemmed not solely from Barcas’s warning.
If he drew near her, he feared he would witness something vile within himself that he could never bear to confront.
As though to shake off that ominous premonition, he hastily withdrew from the dimly lit corridor.
* * *
“Just one more bite.”
Talia stared at the man extending the spoon as though he were a two-headed monster.
Could some malevolent nightmare have donned Barcas’s skin and assumed his identity?
Whether or not he sensed her suspicion as she observed him, the man pressed forward in his characteristically impassive tone.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“…That’s enough. I’m done.”
“Just one more spoonful.”
“I said no.”
As she turned her head sharply to evade the spoon hovering near her lips like an annoying gnat, he wrapped his other hand around her chin, holding it firmly in place.
Talia’s face flushed with indignation as she glared at him.
But Barcas didn’t so much as blink.
“Once you finish this, I’ll have your favorite fruit brought for dessert.”
“That’s ridiculous! I don’t want to eat any of this…!”
As she opened her mouth to protest, the spoon slipped past her lips.
Talia’s eyes widened in shock.
He pressed the spoon against her tongue, urging her to swallow.
She had no choice but to gulp down the mushy substance. The sickening sensation of the lukewarm porridge sliding down her throat caused her face to contort involuntarily.
She shot him a venomous glare.
Unbothered, Barcas rose from his seat with an unhurried expression and cleared away the bowl.
The naturalness of his movements sparked a different suspicion.
This was a man who had spent his entire life being attended to by others. A man who had never bowed his head to anyone outside the Imperial Family—so why was he so adept at serving meals?
“Have you perhaps fed someone before?”
Talia’s eyes narrowed as she pressed the matter abruptly.
Barcas, arranging bowls of food on a tray, cast an indifferent glance over his shoulder.
A flat response followed immediately.
“Tediously.”
Shock stiffened Talia’s body, and in the next instant, her eyes blazed with fury. The food she had forced down her throat threatened to surge back up.
She forced a smile onto her convulsing face.
“How unfortunate. To abandon a fiancé who devoted herself so completely, only to find yourself reduced to playing nursemaid beside a woman like me….”
“The First Princess was never a woman who required such extensive care.”
Barcas set the tray by the door and spoke without emotion.
“The one I fed was not a person, but a horse. Young Torque required far more attention than Her Highness ever did.”
Talia’s expression turned dumbfounded.
She could not determine whether she should feel relieved by his words or furious.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Sailor_pluto
🤣🤣🤣 his response at the ending lmao