The Forgotten Field - Chapter 140

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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 140
A fleeting thought crossed my mind—what if Barcas Laedgo Sierkan had married the First Princess as originally planned?
Politically, it would have been far more advantageous. There would have been no discord between House Sierkan and the Crown Prince as there is now.
Yet for some reason, I could not easily imagine Barcas taking another woman as his wife.
“We’ve kept our guests standing far too long. Come, follow me. I shall provide chambers where you may rest.”
Tyron, lost in thought, suddenly snapped to attention. As he turned, he caught sight of Darian personally escorting the Northern visitors.
Darian moved toward the separate building, offering a light rebuke over his shoulder.
“You should go bathe. You look dreadful.”
Tyron scraped away the dried blood clinging to his cheek and exhaled softly.
This was no time to dwell on pointless hypotheticals. He needed to wash away the blood and dust, treat his minor wounds, and return to his duties immediately. Mountains of work surely awaited him—and the security crisis was most pressing.
He recalled the Zrami raiders who had attacked him, and his expression darkened. While he had been extinguishing the flames of war in the Northern Region, the internal problems of the Eastern Territories had undoubtedly worsened.
Tyron swept his disheveled hair back roughly and led his men across the wide inner courtyard with weary steps.
Then, suddenly feeling a cool touch brush his cheek, he looked up at the ash-gray clouds rolling across the sky.
White snowflakes were drifting on the wind, just as the Grand Duchess had foreseen.
It was an unseasonably early snow.
Tyron was seized by an inexplicable premonition.
Perhaps this winter would be unusually long and harsh.
* * *
“Did you fight?”
As we passed through the long corridor, Aria, who had been nestled quietly in his arms, suddenly wrinkled her nose and asked.
Barcas checked whether any bloodstains had soiled his garments. He appeared no different from when he had left the castle.
Then the scent of blood must have clung to his body. She had always possessed keen olfactory senses, and since becoming pregnant, her nose had grown even more sensitive.
He lengthened his stride and replied in an even tone.
“I have merely returned from hunting.”
“That’s a lie. You came back with the Knights just now. Why would you take so many Knights on a hunt?”
“There have been reports of increased bandit activity of late, so I increased the escort.”
Aria scrutinized him with narrowed eyes.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Barcas offered his answer without the slightest wavering, then adjusted her in his arms with one hand and opened the bedroom door.
The air was cool, as if the room had been airing. He went directly to the window, closed the glass panes, and settled her before the fireplace. As he began feeding logs into the dying embers, she tugged at his sleeve.
“Don’t go hunting anymore. If bandits are running rampant, why would you invite danger? You can have the hunters bring game or purchase meat from the butchers.”
He furrowed his brow.
Since becoming pregnant, his wife had grown far more anxious than before. She seemed to believe that if anything happened to him, both she and the child would be endangered.
There was no point in insisting that such a thing would never occur.
After a moment’s consideration, Barcas nodded.
“Very well. I shall not go hunting again.”
Aria, who had been watching him with a tense expression, relaxed and let her shoulders drop.
He would need to ensure the servants held their tongues about the Grand Duke personally bringing back game.
He gazed at the logs beginning to kindle and brushed the dust from his palms lightly.
I understood well enough that employing hunters would be more efficient, as she suggested. Yet I had no intention of abandoning the hunt just now. Something about another man’s kill gracing her table sat poorly with me.
It was a thought I had never entertained before. Meat was merely meat. What did it matter who brought it down? I could not fathom why I acted upon such irrational impulses.
But watching her—a woman who had never touched meat since childhood—sink her teeth into rich, marbled flesh and chew with such vigor, those self-deprecating doubts dissolved entirely.
There was an inexplicable satisfaction in witnessing her consume the sustenance I provided and gradually gain weight. I did not wish to involve others in this endeavor if I could help it.
“So… what did you bring back today?”
She asked suddenly, her tone cautious, as though worried she had been too reproachful.
I worked the bellows to stoke the flames, answering without inflection.
“Pheasant.”
Her eyes brightened instantly.
She leaned forward, her voice rising an octave as she chattered eagerly.
“The same kind as last time? That was delicious. Tell the kitchen master to roast the skin until it’s crispy. And don’t forget the cameline sauce!”
I watched her without blinking.
It was remarkable how she, always wary and bristling with caution toward everything around her, could become so animated over mere food.
Noticing my peculiar gaze, she complained with embarrassment.
“It’s not that I want it. It’s the baby who wants it.”
She cradled her swollen belly with one hand.
My eyes naturally followed, and I clenched my fists hard. Without doing so, I feared I would embrace her with soiled hands and knead her as I pleased.
Whether she knew of my restraint or not, she pouted her full lips and continued her complaint.
“This child seems to have an insatiable appetite. What if it’s born and grows fat as a pig? A chubby baby would be unsightly…”
“Then I shall entrust it to the Nursemaid and ensure it remains out of your sight as much as possible.”
Grasping my scattering thoughts, I spoke carelessly, and her eyes narrowed sharply.
“You fool! Is that what you should say now? You should say, ‘The baby will be beautiful even if plump!'”
“The baby will be beautiful even if plump.”
I offered the desired response immediately, yet her expression did not soften.
Seething with inexplicable anger, she snatched a cushion from the chair and struck my back without mercy.
“And my baby could never be unsightly. It will certainly be incredibly, incredibly beautiful! Even if it grows fat as a pig, it will be the most adorable thing in the world!”
She was the one who had worried about the child being unsightly, yet here she was, furious with me. I could not comprehend her logic, but her pouting face, venting unwarranted anger, was devastatingly beautiful—which troubled me greatly.
I swallowed a sigh and turned toward the shelf. Despite wearing loose trousers, the fabric below grew uncomfortably tight.
It would subside eventually if left alone, so it was not a grave concern, but I worried about making her uncomfortable.
I did not wish to burden Talia with unnecessary worries. I simply wanted her to remain at ease, carefree as she was now.
I drew cold water into a basin and washed my hands and face to cool the heat. Yet my aroused body showed little sign of calming.
‘Perhaps I should go to the Adjacent Room and take care of this.’
As I glanced down at myself with a furrowed brow, I felt warm body heat against my back.
“Are you angry?”
She pressed against me, leaning her head forward to stare intently at my face.
I narrowed the space between my brows.
Was she doing this deliberately?
I regarded her with suspicious eyes before pulling slightly away.
“I likely smell of horses. Please maintain some distance.”
“It doesn’t bother me…”
She pressed her nose against his shirt and inhaled deeply, her breath warm and damp as it seeped through the thin fabric and tickled his skin.
“The scent of mint and your natural warmth—they’re the strongest.”
He was definitely doing this on purpose.
Barcas, who had been clenching his jaw, turned and lifted her into his arms. Then he settled into the chair, cradling her increasingly pliant body with meticulous care as the days passed.
Her fuller breasts pressed against him, and he grasped one gently with his hand, caressing it with deliberate tenderness before moving lower to rest his palm on her swollen lower abdomen.

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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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