The Forgotten Field - Chapter 113

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 113
“Proceed with the funeral arrangements according to protocol.”
Barcas spoke in a measured tone once he confirmed his father’s heart had ceased entirely.
Raina, who had been clutching her father’s cooling hand and sobbing, lifted her head to glare at him. She seemed to resent her brother for not displaying any sorrow.
Lucas, by contrast, appeared remarkably composed. Though his eyes were bloodshot, he had clearly steeled himself for this moment, and he consoled his sister with a calm demeanor.
“Stop crying now. Father has gone to a better place.”
Yet Raina’s sobs showed no sign of subsiding.
Eventually, Lucas wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her from the chamber. Only then did the High Priests waiting outside draw the curtains around the bed and begin washing the deceased’s body with herbal infusions.
Talia watched the ceremonial proceedings in silence until exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she tugged at Barcas’s coat.
“Let’s leave. There’s no reason for us to remain here.”
Though a few cast disapproving glances her way, Talia paid them no mind.
Barcas, who had been gazing down at his father’s pallid face, nodded without emotion.
“Very well.”
He then stepped into the corridor without delay.
Outside the bedroom, servants had gathered to pay their respects to the Grand Duke’s passing, and they all removed their hats in unison to express their mourning.
Talia observed their expressions carefully. Given that most bore sorrowful countenances, it appeared the cantankerous old man had served as a reasonably competent Castle Lord. He had likely been a decent father to Lucas and Raina as well. But for Barcas, he would have been an exception.
Stealing a glance at his profile, Talia carefully opened her mouth.
“What was that… earlier?”
The man gave her a puzzled look. Talia continued awkwardly.
“Your father said something strange just now.”
“Merely the delirious ramblings of a dying old man.”
Barcas spoke decisively, then lifted her into his arms and ascended the stairs.
Talia eyed him suspiciously.
“Why would he speak such nonsense?”
After a moment of silence, the man opened his mouth with a composed expression.
“Your Highness has surely heard rumors about our clan.”
“The rumors that the ancient Sierkan Clan wielded demonic powers?”
At her blunt words, Barcas let out a dry laugh and acknowledged it plainly.
“Indeed, members of the Sierkan Clan have been born with peculiar abilities throughout history. My father believed I would be one of them.”
Talia’s eyes widened.
“Is that true?”
A cynical smile returned.
“What do you think?”
She wore an anxious expression.
The smile faded from Barcas’s lips as he observed her face.
“Unfortunately, I possess no such abilities.”
By now, they had arrived at the bedroom door.
Barcas grasped the handle and stepped into the chamber.
Talia shrank at the cold air, and Barcas immediately set her down on the bed, draping a blanket around her shoulders.
Moments later, several servants rushed into the room, kindled a fire in the hearth, and placed trays bearing wine and food.
As the attendants who had been moving about the chamber withdrew all at once, Talia posed her question again.
“You truly possess no abilities at all?”
Barcas, who had been hanging his coat on the wall, turned to face her, his brow furrowing.
Talia, studying his expression for a moment, pressed on with stubborn persistence.
“According to rumor, Bernadette could read the hearts of others….”
“Those are nothing but baseless rumors.”
His tone sharpened.
“She was merely more sensitive to others’ emotions than most people.”
Though she flinched at Barcas’s cold gaze, Talia sought confirmation once more.
“Then truly, you cannot see anything?”
He fixed his stare upon her face with piercing intensity.
Talia began to understand why the old man had believed his son possessed some extraordinary ability.
Those blue eyes, scattered with silver fragments, gleamed like a living, breathing blade. As that dagger-like gaze seemed to dissect her very thoughts, she stiffened—until Barcas suddenly broke into a twisted smile.
“Are you afraid I might peer into your depths?”
Talia flinched, lowering her gaze.
Barcas approached the bedside and grasped her chin, tilting her face upward to meet his scrutiny.
“I confess, I’m growing curious about what secrets you hide so desperately in that mind of yours.”
“Who said anything about trembling!”
Talia struck his hand away indignantly. Though it seemed impossible, cold sweat beaded on her skin at the thought that he might truly be peering into her innermost heart.
Barcas gazed down at her with an unmoved expression, then spoke with dry precision.
“Your mind is safe, so spare yourself the needless worry.”
With that, he turned away, signaling his disinterest in continuing the conversation.
“First, take your evening meal. If you are to attend the funeral rites tomorrow, you must restore your strength sufficiently today.”
Barcas offered this counsel in his blunt manner, setting a tray of food beside the bed before walking toward the fireplace to stoke the flames higher.
Talia watched his retreating figure in silence, then lowered her eyes to the tray.
Perhaps it was because she had grown accustomed to him feeding her these past days—now, attempting to eat by her own hand felt oddly hollow. She brushed away the feeling and picked up a small piece of bread, forcing herself to take a bite.
As her mind cleared, her absurd suspicion seemed shameful. He could not possibly possess mind-reading abilities. If he did, he would never have felt sympathy or a sense of responsibility toward her.
Had he known how many years she had clung to him, he would surely have been repulsed….
* * *
As her premonition foretold, on the day the funeral began, icy rain poured from the heavens. Yet from the following day onward, clear skies prevailed.
Thanks to this, the late Grand Duke Sierkan was laid to rest in the Cathedral Mausoleum East of Calmor, bathed in brilliant sunlight.
After the family funeral rites were conducted in solemn reverence, a stream of mourners came to pay their respects.
The envoys who had traveled from distant lands attended the grand funeral mass, then remained at Laedgo Castle for approximately a week before departing.
The funeral of a great lord lasted anywhere from one month to three, and during this time the castle transformed into a gathering place for diplomatic exchanges. Talia, in turn, endured an arduous period because of it.
Dressed in the traditional garments of the Eastern Territories, Talia leaned against the railing and gazed down at the crowded hall with evident weariness.
Using her health as a pretext, she had abstained from the banquets and funeral masses, yet she could not avoid presenting herself to the guests.
She reluctantly descended the stairs. As she entered the hall, taking care to conceal her limping gait, hundreds of eyes turned toward her. Her heart sank.
Though she no longer panicked as she once had, the weight of their gazes still unsettled her—even after realizing that most had not noticed the marks upon her body.
She managed to force something resembling a smile onto her rigid face.
“Thank you all for coming such a distance. Please, make yourselves comfortable during your stay.”
“Thank you for receiving me so graciously, Your Highness the Grand Duchess.”
The young man, gazing up at her with enchanted eyes, responded with fervent enthusiasm.
Talia turned naturally away, taking care not to reveal her discomfort outwardly.
In that moment, someone subtly blocked her path.
“I hear the guests have prepared a special gift for Your Highness the Grand Duchess.”
It was Daren Dru Sierkan.
The man, impeccably dressed in formal attire, smoothly guided her toward the Banquet Hall. He seemed determined to drag her into the social gathering of Eastern Territories nobility, despite her attempt to offer a mere greeting and slip away.
Talia suppressed the urge to brush away the hand that touched her forearm as she glided gracefully between the visitors.
Upon entering the lavishly decorated Banquet Hall, Lucas and Raina in mourning attire came into view.
Only upon seeing their gloomy expressions did she recall that this spectacle was indeed a funeral ceremony.
Talia swallowed a scoff and took her seat at the upper dais of the long table.
Raina, seated at a distance, bristled the moment she saw her, her eyes sharpening like daggers.
Pretending not to notice, Talia spoke to Daren in a dismissive tone.
“You mentioned a gift was prepared? Let me see it.”
The man offered a bitter smile at her arrogant demeanor and gestured to the servants. Soon an Elderly Attendant brought forth a large chest.
“It is something Baron Basilar has prepared.”
Inside the box lay fabric of an ethereal hue that was unmistakably crafted by the fairy folk.
Gasps of admiration erupted from various corners at the priceless gift, worth the value of an entire castle. The man who presented it wore an air of triumph.
Yet Talia felt no stirring whatsoever. Ever since her body had been marked with scars, she had lost all interest in adornment.
Talia gazed down at the chest with an indifferent expression and recited a formal courtesy.
“I appreciate it. I shall keep it well.”
The Baron’s face stiffened faintly, as if taken aback by the tepid response.
Pretending not to notice, she was about to rise from her seat when hurried footsteps echoed from beyond the hall. It seemed another distinguished guest had arrived.
She exhaled a weary sigh. Then the Steward’s breathless voice cut through the chamber.
“Your Highness the Grand Duchess, an envoy from the Imperial Palace has arrived.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————