The Forgotten Field - Chapter 133

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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 133
“Anything?”
Her cautious tone stirred something restless within me.
During my days as a Guard Knight, this woman had ordered me about with a mere tilt of her chin. I had endured every absurd demand, every unreasonable tantrum, every inexplicable cruelty—and never once had I felt fatigue until then.
It displeased me that she, who had always made outrageous requests with shameless confidence, now hesitated over something as trivial as food.
I grasped her small hand, curled like a snail shell, and spoke with firm resolve.
“Tell me whatever you desire. I will procure it by any means necessary.”
“Then… I want apricots too. Fresh ones, not dried. And candied violets and citron. I don’t like them soggy. I prefer them crisp.”
She rattled off her requests as though she had been waiting for this moment.
Watching her eyes gleam like a child’s as she wheedled for treats, I felt an odd tickling sensation in my chest, as if I had swallowed a handful of feathers.
This was the same woman who would grimace at elaborate feasts as though staring at filth. How many times had I suppressed the urge to pry open her stubbornly sealed lips and force food into her mouth?
Suddenly, I realized I had wanted to see her eat her fill for a very long time.
At the time, I had attributed my irritation to her petulant refusal of food, but the truth was far simpler—I had merely been aching for her.
“And what else?”
As I gently coaxed her, stroking her flushed cheeks that radiated warmth, the blush deepening across her face intensified.
The woman, whose moist eyes darted uncertainly, finally opened her mouth with visible discomfort.
“Why… you know that drink I had during the Eastern Territories tour? The one made from fermented goat’s milk… I want that too.”
Compared to her previous requests, this was remarkably modest.
I had been about to dismiss her reluctant plea for such humble fare—food even commoners enjoyed—when the memory surfaced: I had fed her that very drink myself. My throat tightened.
The sensation of her small, honey-sweet tongue came rushing back, and my lower abdomen hardened like stone.
I drew a deep breath and slowly rose to my feet. If I lingered any longer, I feared I would impose upon her something she did not consent to.
“I can prepare that drink at once. I shall instruct the Handmaiden, so you may have as much as you wish.”
“You bring it to me yourself.”
Her defensively withdrawn hand suddenly clung to the hem of my garment.
I turned to leave, then paused, looking down at her.
Her voice became barely audible.
“Not now. Later, this evening.”
A sensation akin to vertigo swept over me.
I closed my eyes, then opened them. Fortunately, my response emerged composed.
“Understood. I shall bring it myself.”
The woman, gazing up at me with crystalline eyes, slowly nodded and released the fabric she had been clutching.
“Good. Now go.”
Then she tilted her head with arrogant grace.
I could not resist the impulse that seized me. My hand shot out, capturing the nape of her neck.
Her eyes widened in surprise before glazing over. Staring into those viscous pupils like a bottomless marsh, I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth.
The scorching membrane drew me in. No matter how many times I tasted it, the sensation never dulled—my insides felt as though they were melting like wax.
I gripped her small jaw and drove my tongue deep, then withdrew, repeating the motion as though performing an act of penetration.
I continued until my mind scattered, until my body burned beyond endurance, before finally lifting my head.
In the bright light, her eyes resembled a pure mineral unmarred by impurity.
Lost in those impossibly deep blue irises, she pushed against my shoulders, breathing heavily.
“Now go. You said you’d be at the Military Affairs Office in an hour.”
He turned his gaze toward the window. Though it didn’t feel like much time had passed, lingering any longer would make it impossible to leave at all.
Barcas swallowed a sigh and reluctantly pushed himself up.
“Then rest well.”
“…See you later.”
She murmured in a hoarse voice, her face nestled against his knee. He forced his reluctant feet to turn away.
Before entering the Conference Hall, he stopped by the Kitchen first to order the preparation of foods she had mentioned wanting. Fresh fruit would require commissioning from southern merchants, but preserved violets and citron—items that could be stored long-term—would be easy enough to obtain.
He mentally catalogued other dishes she might enjoy. He wanted to feed her nutritious foods like meat and vegetables, but for now, he was satisfied simply that she had begun showing interest in eating.
He instructed the Butler to summon a merchant as quickly as possible, then strode briskly out of the Main Castle.
Upon entering the Cavalry Warrior Building, a utilitarian space devoid of ornamental furnishings stretched before him.
Most of the cavalry warriors were currently stationed on the outskirts of the territory, subjugating monsters and brigands, so the interior of the building was eerily quiet.
He passed through a hall displaying an array of weapons and climbed the stairs.
Three burly warriors awaited in the Conference Hall. After exchanging formal greetings with them, Barcas proceeded directly to business.
The only immediate measures available were strengthening defenses at the Northern Border and secretly stockpiling weapons and provisions.
He drafted orders written in cipher while conveying several precautions to each Knight, primarily concerning discretion.
“Would it not be wise for us to also mobilize additional forces in advance?”
A Young Knight who had been quietly listening to his instructions ventured his opinion carefully.
Barcas stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then slowly nodded.
“We should prepare without drawing attention. Send messengers discreetly to the lords throughout the territories and have them ready their forces.”
Suddenly, a premonition struck him that even this might not be sufficient.
“And gather capable scouts. We should conduct a thorough investigation of the Balto Border Region.”
“…Do you truly believe they will wage an independence war in Balto?”
“Those creatures will bare their fangs at any opportunity.”
Barcas added, studying the map spread across the table.
“The best course is to prevent war from breaking out in the first place, but there’s no harm in preparing for the worst.”
He picked up a quill and quickly marked the investigation areas, then moved on to the next agenda.
To determine the extent of the Heimdal Family’s influence, he would need to mobilize the family’s entire intelligence network.
After that, he would need to carefully eliminate their operatives. One cannot burn down an entire house simply because it’s infested with rats; tedious as it may be, the only way is to apply poison and set traps, gradually eradicating them.
“It would be wise to secure the Guild Master of the White Silver Alliance in advance. Arrange a meeting soon.”
“That will not be easy. The current Guild Master is known to be from a noble family of Balto.”
“Regardless, he is a merchant. If he holds the position of representative in a merchant coalition with such powerful influence throughout the Northeast Region, he must possess the merchant’s instinct down to his very bones.”
Barcas leaned back against his chair and spoke decisively.
“If he’s foolish enough to reject my proposal, I’ll simply replace him with someone from the Eastern Territories. I’ve already noted several suitable candidates during my eastern tour, so contact them simultaneously.”
At his forthright words, surprise flickered across the faces of his advisors before vanishing.
The Questioning Officer nodded with a solemn expression.
“I understand your meaning perfectly.”
Barcas issued several additional orders before rising from his seat.
It was premature to judge, but the Heimdal Family likely had no intention of waging war immediately either. They too would probably want sufficient time to prepare. The general direction would be determined by this winter.
He pressed his burning eyelids shut and left the Conference Hall.
By the time he had attended to several administrative matters and returned to the Main Castle, the sun had already begun to sink beyond the City Walls.
As always, the day had been relentless, yet today it felt exceptionally, painfully long.
Barcas strode into the Great Hall and made directly for the Kitchen. He gathered the beverages he’d prepared in advance and collected several delicacies for her, when a familiar voice reached his ears from behind.
“Your Grace.”
Turning, Barcas’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the taut, anxious face before him. The Family Healer gazed up at him, her eyes clouded with concern.
“There is something urgent I must tell you.”

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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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