The Forgotten Field - Chapter 152

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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 152
Yet few mourners had come. Since the Grand Duchess had not yet regained consciousness, there were precious few who would spare attention for something so small it could hardly be called a person—merely a bloodied mass.
He took another sip of wine, his emotions a turbulent storm.
After the chaos erupted, his elder brother, who had barricaded himself in the Sleeping Chamber, only emerged once the Grand Duchess’s bleeding had ceased—to confirm the death of the child.
Lucas, who had rushed to verify the situation upon hearing the news, shuddered as he recalled the expression on Barcas’s face at that moment.
The man had stared at the small bloodied bundle wrapped in swaddling clothes with hollow eyes, all emotion seemingly evaporated, until a Handmaiden burst into tears of terror—only then did he issue instructions to bury the child with proper rites before turning away.
His composure had been chillingly serene, yet Lucas felt ice crystallize along his spine.
In his brother’s passing expression, he had glimpsed a shadow as sinister as that which clings to a beheaded corpse.
The man, his face drained of all vitality as though he had shed every drop of blood within him, returned to the Sleeping Chamber and locked the door firmly shut. For the next four days, he kept vigil beside his wife, who lay in a comatose state.
Though matters requiring the Grand Duke’s approval accumulated like drifts of snow, no one dared knock upon that door. None existed who would thrust official documents upon a man who had lost his firstborn child so suddenly and now teetered on the precipice of losing his wife as well.
Yet with the threat of war drawing ever closer with each passing moment, they could not simply stand idle and wait.
‘If my brother does not emerge from his chamber by tomorrow… I shall have to force my way in.’
Lucas, burdened with this onerous responsibility, exhaled a heavy sigh and drained another cup of strong spirits.
At that moment, a clear voice rang out from beneath the City Walls.
“What are you doing in a place like that?”
Lucas turned his head and spotted Raina leading a chestnut stallion through the Castle Gate, his brow furrowing.
She had slipped away from the castle without escort once again and was returning—her hood pulled low—and now stood before the stairs leading to the City Walls patrol route, regarding him with an expression of disdain.
“Is wallowing in self-pity all you have left to do?”
“And what of you?”
Lucas replied flatly, moistening his lips with wine.
“Where are you going, dragging a horse along in weather like this?”
“I didn’t want to stay inside the castle. I was tired of watching all the Servants in the entire fortress acting as though some catastrophe had befallen us.”
At his sister’s harsh tone, Lucas stiffened.
He knew Raina harbored animosity toward the Grand Duchess, but he had never expected her to display such cruelty in the face of tragedy.
Lucas spoke in a tone of reproach.
“The Grand Duchess is bedridden and unconscious. Surely you could show some compassion?”
“When has that woman ever shown compassion to our father or to me? So why should I?”
Whether wounded by his censorious words, a faint glimmer of moisture appeared in Raina’s large reddish-brown eyes.
As though to conceal it, she widened her eyes and spoke sharply.
“Don’t be a hypocrite, Lucas. Isn’t it you who rejoices most in your heart at how things have turned out?”
Lucas’s expression turned bewildered.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand. You are now the sole heir of the Grand Duke’s House. You may well remain the heir for the rest of your life.”
A twisted smile played at the corners of his sister’s mouth.
“With that woman’s frail constitution, she was never going to bear healthy children anyway. Unless our brother takes a new bride, eventually you or your children will inherit House Sierkan.”
He regarded his sister as though she were a stranger.
Though she possessed a willful and headstrong nature, he had never believed her capable of such heartlessness.
Had their father’s death struck her so profoundly?
He studied her face intently, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Perhaps, in the time since their father’s passing, when he himself had begun rigorous training, Raina had felt abandoned and isolated—cast into obscurity where no one’s gaze could reach her. That sense of abandonment may have festered into malice.
He fell into a moment of profound conflict.
Part of him wanted to indulge his sister’s whims, yet he feared she would only spiral further into recklessness.
They were no longer foolish children who could be forgiven for anything they said or did.
“I have no desire to become Grand Duke, nor do I possess the capability for it.”
Hoping to shock his sister back to reason, he deliberately added his words in a cold tone.
“I’m truly disappointed, Raina. I don’t care for that woman either, but… I still feel pity for her. Isn’t that basic human decency? I never knew you could be so heartless.”
“I’m the one who’s disappointed, Lucas. I never knew you could be so foolish.”
Raina shot back with a venomous expression.
“Do you think I’m the only one with these thoughts? The retainers are whispering behind closed doors too. If that woman ultimately fails to produce an heir, they say the only options are to bring in a new mistress or place their hopes on you.”
Lucas fell silent, at a loss for words.
Raina regarded him with a mocking sneer, then yanked the reins and spun her horse around sharply.
“By the way, Darian was looking for you at the Training Grounds.”
She called over her shoulder as if the thought had just occurred to her.
“The Nobility Alliance Council will convene soon, and he asked if you would represent House Sierkan in his stead.”
“….”
“Go on. It wouldn’t hurt to make an impression on the Nobility Alliance Council members beforehand.”
Having delivered her pointed remark, Raina walked leisurely toward the Stables.
Lucas watched her departing figure with a dazed expression, then felt the rain intensify again and pulled his hood over his head.
Lowering his gaze between the Castle Ramparts, he caught sight of the Cemetery being drenched by the downpour. The Handmaidens who had been paying their respects had already departed.
He gazed quietly at the pale bundle of lilies placed at a small grave, then turned away with a bitter sigh. His mouth tasted as though he had swallowed ash.
* * *
A sharp pain pierced through her hazy consciousness.
Talia forced open her eyelids, which clung together as if sealed with glue.
Through her blurred vision, as though submerged underwater, the pale blue-tinged interior of the Chamber gradually came into focus.
For a moment, she believed she had been trapped in a long, agonizing dream. But when her hand unconsciously descended and felt the hollow cavity of her sunken belly, she realized she was trapped in a nightmare called reality.
“Talia.”
As she lay there numbly caressing her throbbing abdomen, a large hand gently cradled her head.
Only after some time did she realize someone was quietly embracing her from behind.
Turning her head without thinking, Talia caught sight of the man she had desperately yearned for throughout half her life, and her eyelids closed slowly.
Those beautiful eyes that had always made her heart ache merely by being seen.
Yet Talia felt nothing. It was as though she had died while still alive.
Perhaps she truly had become a corpse.
“Talia.”
As if to contradict her thoughts, a clear voice resonated from above her head.
It was a strange, strange voice.
Like a small child learning to speak for the first time, mindlessly repeating the same word.
“…Do you recognize me?”
When she showed no response, the man tilted his head to peer into her eyes. Ash-gray hair, grown noticeably longer over the past months, tickled the corners of her eyes.
Talia stared blankly at that sharp face shadowed by desolation, then slowly closed her eyelids.
“I’m cold….”
The man caught her whispered words before they dissipated like wind and wrapped her body in thick quilts without a single gap.
Yet she felt no warmth. It was as though she lay buried beneath cold earth and stone.
Talia wondered why she understood such a sensation. Then, suddenly, she remembered—I had been buried beneath stone and earth once before.
A strange thought seized her: perhaps I have remained there all this time, from that moment until now.
Was it not so? How could it be real that I married Barcas, became his wife, conceived his child, and then lost that child so meaninglessly? I must have been trapped beneath the earth, decaying while lost in hollow fantasies.
Talia felt a single tear trace down her cheek. Yet her heart remained oddly, eerily still.
Mind and body seemed utterly severed. Reality and dream, past and present swirled together in dizzying confusion until nothing could be grasped clearly anymore.
As vertigo crept upon her, she closed her eyes tightly.
If I fall asleep now, perhaps I will open my eyes next in that cold earth, buried beneath stone.
Perhaps that would be better.

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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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