The Forgotten Field - Chapter 14

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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 14
“Won’t you go speak with him?”
The Handmaidens standing beside me grew impatient, frustrated by my distant observation. They all seemed desperate to see Barcas up close, and some of them gazed at him with longing that transcended mere admiration.
Aila chose to overlook their presumptuous feelings. She could afford such magnanimity because she knew Barcas would never spare a glance for any other woman.
‘Of course, he’s never once looked at me with such warmth either….’
A bitter smile crossed her lips.
Barcas had been fundamentally deprived of the capacity to feel such emotions.
He had entered the Imperial Palace at a young age and undergone an education bordering on indoctrination by the Fundamentalist Priests, molded into a loyal servant of the Empire. In that process, he had lost nearly all of his emotions.
When Grand Duke Sierkan’s mother discovered how brutally the priests were disciplining her son, she spared no effort to protect him. Yet the young boy had already lost not only joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, but nearly all the fundamental desires that define humanity itself.
Aila’s expression darkened as she recalled their first meeting. How terrifying that boy had been, with eyes as hollow and vacant as a discarded insect husk.
Barcas had resembled a doll sculpted from hardened wax. He spoke so little that it was rare for him to utter more than two words in a day, and he would neither eat nor sleep unless someone beside him gave the command. Having been subjected to such thorough suppression of all desires for so long, he seemed incapable of feeling even hunger or the need for sleep.
Compared to those days, the Barcas of now appeared far more human.
‘Perhaps he will continue to improve as time goes on….’
She cast a hopeful gaze toward her betrothed. Though she had sworn countless times not to expect too much, her heart stirred uncontrollably whenever she saw him.
That beautiful boy who had steadfastly remained at her dear mother’s side…. How could she not yearn for the man he had become—now the most perfect male in all the Roem Empire?
She knew that countless women harboring feelings for him had suffered the bitter anguish of unrequited love, yet Aila believed herself to be in a far more advantageous position than any of them.
Though their marriage had been arranged to strengthen political alliances, she would soon become his wife and would eventually bear his heir.
If she persisted in pouring affection upon him through the long years they would spend together, might not his frozen heart eventually thaw?
Holding fast to such hopes, Aila carefully approached his side. Sensing her presence, Barcas—who had been standing with his back to the light—turned his head toward her.
In that instant, Aila felt her spine turn to ice. His expression was so cold, as if mocking all her dreams and hopes.
The man who gazed at her with emotionless eyes straightened his head and spoke in a flat, toneless voice.
“What is the matter?”
She steadied her wavering heart and consciously summoned a bright smile to her lips.
“I came to see how the preparations for the journey were progressing.”
“They are nearly complete.”
He lightly stroked the horse’s muscular neck and replied in an indifferent tone.
“The preparation period has grown longer than expected, which concerns me. With the heat intensifying, the journey will be quite arduous.”
“There’s no help for it. The schedule was disrupted because Gareth insisted on coming along.”
Aila spoke cautiously and observed her betrothed’s reaction. Thinking of her brother’s reckless behavior, she felt her face flush with shame and could not lift her head.
Gareth had not only forced his way into the journey but had conducted himself as though he intended to transport the entire Crown Prince’s Palace with him. He had stubbornly insisted on bringing dozens of attendants, not to mention jesters to entertain him during the journey, a personal chef, and even a tailor.
She found herself newly amazed at Barcas’s patience in silently accepting all of her brother’s whims and complaints without raising his voice once.
Her expression grew remorseful.
“I am sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you.”
“Your Highness need not apologize. This was something that would have had to be done eventually anyway.”
He handed the reins to the stable master and added matter-of-factly.
“Compared to what I had prepared myself for, he is actually being quite reasonable. For a brother parting with his precious sister, this level of petulance is quite mild.”
Aila’s expression clouded. His words had brought to the surface a concern she had been deliberately avoiding.
Looking up at the gleaming, magnificent fortress, Aila gripped her skirts tightly. The thought of leaving her brother alone in this Imperial Palace, filled with painful memories, felt as though her heart were being torn apart.
Moreover, there dwelt within these walls a wicked demon who coveted Gareth’s position. Could her hot-tempered brother, standing alone, truly withstand that cunning woman?
“If it would not burden you, I would like to visit the Imperial Palace periodically even after we are married. Would that be acceptable?”
Barcas, who had been examining another horse, turned his gaze toward her. Seeing the faint crease form between his straight brows, Aila became aware of her unreasonable request and felt heat rise to her cheeks.
As the wife of a Grand Duke, managing the vast Eastern Territories and commanding hundreds of retainers was no simple task. Now that they were married, she had to prioritize the affairs of House Sierkan above all else.
Yet Barcas, regarding her with thoughtful eyes, nodded as though it were of no consequence.
“If the long journey does not burden you, you are free to come and go as you wish. After all, this marriage was not arranged to strengthen the Crown Prince’s position, was it?”
Aila’s expression dimmed. For him, this was purely a political marriage, but for her, it was something far different. A pang of disappointment struck her, but she forced herself to appear delighted.
“Thank you for understanding.”
Barcas merely gave a slight nod before returning his attention to the horse’s teeth.
Aila swallowed a sigh and placed her hand upon his forearm, forcing him to look at her.
“I know you’re busy, but could you spare me just a moment? I have something I wish to give you before we depart.”
The man, regarding her with a puzzled expression, soon turned his body toward her. He then instructed the stable master beside him to move all the examined horses into the Stables, and escorted her to a relatively secluded spot.
Thanks to the Handmaidens tactfully withdrawing, Aila was able to enjoy a private stroll with him.
She kept her hand resting upon his firm forearm as they walked along the well-maintained path. As they entered the expansive Garden, a gentle breeze caressed their faces with tender grace.
The Main Palace Garden was blooming beautifully. In the flower beds meticulously tended by servants, vibrant summer flowers unfurled their buds, and the perfectly maintained shrubs were thick with emerald foliage.
Aila gazed upon it all with a melancholic expression. This landscape had always left a wound upon her heart. Yet as the years passed, the Imperial Palace, now filled with Senevir’s traces, had become merely part of daily life, and her mother’s garden had grown increasingly hazy in her memory. That fact was what she found most unbearable.
“What is it you wished to give me?”
Aila, lost in regret, turned to look up at Barcas.
In his childhood, he had spent considerable time in the garden that Bernadette had cultivated. Aila knew that he had found some solace for his desolate heart in that place.
Suddenly, she found herself wondering. Did this man also long for her mother’s garden?
Aila, staring up at his expressionless face devoid of any emotion, soon released a sigh of resignation and withdrew a handkerchief from inside her coat.
“I embroidered the crest of House Sierkan upon it.”
His gaze descended upon the neatly folded cloth. His mouth suddenly went dry.
Aila began to speak in an exaggerated tone, as though to dispel her nervousness.
“It’s tradition to gift a handkerchief of one’s own making to one’s betrothed before a journey. Of course, we’ll be traveling together, but….”
“A most gracious gift.”
The man cut off her rambling words and accepted the handkerchief. A faint smile played at the corners of his austere lips.
Aila felt her heart swell. Though it wounded her pride to be so affected by his every gesture, she was far more delighted that Barcas, who was so reserved with his emotions, had smiled for her.
“I shall treasure it dearly.”
He said this as he fastened the handkerchief to the hilt of his sword. She smiled shyly.
Then, from not far away, came the sound of hurried footsteps.

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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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