The Forgotten Field - Chapter 19

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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 19
Having driven away every servant sent from the Main Palace, the Separate Palace now had fewer than ten handmaidens in its employ. Since she had forbidden them from approaching her vicinity, the number of attendants she could bring along was barely enough to count on one hand.
As a result, Talia found herself surrounded by servants sent by Senevir, forced to embark on a long journey. By nature, she would have cast them all out, but witnessing Gareth and Aila commanding hundreds of attendants, she could not bring herself to do so.
Talia glared at the throng surrounding the Crown Prince’s and First Princess’s carriages, her lips pressed together in irritation.
She despised having anyone linger near her—for years, she had permitted no one but Barcas and her Nursemaid to approach. She refused to surround herself with those who might trample her at any moment, unpredictably and without warning.
Yet as her half-brothers commanded hundreds of servants each, flaunting their imperial dignity without restraint, the thought of traveling with merely three or four attendants filled her with such revulsion that her stomach churned.
Ultimately, Talia had no choice but to accept the handmaidens Senevir had sent. However, she could not relax for a moment, uncertain what schemes they might orchestrate. She watched their every movement with obsessive vigilance as they transferred her belongings.
Then, from nearby, came a voice tinged with exasperation.
“Do you truly intend to bring all of these possessions with you?”
She looked up at the man who had approached her side, her eyes sharp as a blade.
Not long after she had dismissed the witless Imperial Guard who had fawned before the Crown Prince, this newly assigned knight spoke to her without hesitation. And Talia found his manner deeply disagreeable.
She regarded the man, who scratched the back of his head with an awkward expression, and replied coldly.
“Do you find fault with my luggage?”
“I understand your desire to maintain dignity as a member of the Imperial Family. But is this not excessive? Hundreds of dresses, precious jewels and ornaments… Unless you intend to change clothes five times daily, these are unnecessary burdens.”
“You understand nothing. I plan to change clothes not five times, but ten times a day. Traveling by carriage all day long, I shall be covered in dust, and I have no intention of letting soiled garments touch my skin for even a moment.”
“Surely you jest…”
The knight offered an awkward laugh, apparently still unaware that she never spoke in jest.
Talia abandoned the foolish-faced man and walked toward the carriage she would occupy.
Her carriage, positioned at the rear of the long procession, was as grand and elaborate as the Crown Prince’s own.
The doors and roof were ornately decorated with gold and ivory, the interior furnished with seats so spacious they could serve as a bed, layered with thick wool felt and silk cushions.
She climbed into the carriage and drew back the curtains spread behind the seat, revealing a sizable changing area and a large storage cabinet.
Talia opened the drawers connected to the storage compartment and examined them meticulously. She had brought every fine dress and ornament from her collection, yet nothing satisfied her. It would not be enough to outshine Aila.
She rummaged through the drawers haphazardly, biting her lower lip in frustration.
She should have stolen the diamond necklace Senevir had received from the Emperor. No—she should have taken her mother’s entire jewelry box.
Senevir seemed to hope that she would break Aila’s engagement. Had she not been openly encouraging her for that very reason? If asked to lend clothes and jewels to achieve that purpose, Senevir would have gladly complied.
‘Should I return to the Empress Palace now?’
As Talia gazed down at the drawers with anxious eyes, she descended from the carriage. Turning her steps toward Senevir’s residence, she caught sight of Barcas in the uniform of the Roem Knights among the soldiers.
Talia froze as if turned to ice. Though there were more than one hundred fifty men in identical uniforms in the Inner Courtyard, her eyes saw only Barcas.
Her persistent gaze clung obsessively to his rigid back, his broad shoulders, and the faintly luminous ash-grey hair.
Barcas crossed the courtyard with measured steps, issuing orders to his subordinates. He appeared to be inspecting the procession before departure.
Talia swallowed hard. As Barcas drew incrementally closer, her throat stung as though she had swallowed a handful of glass shards.
The indifferent gaze that had followed the long procession from the Castle Gate finally fixed upon her carriage.
Even from a considerable distance, Talia could see the faint furrow forming between his brows—the expression he always wore when facing her.
That cold visage, which caused her such exquisite pain with every encounter, drew gradually nearer.
“Have you not yet completed your preparations for departure?”
Barcas rebuked his own knight without acknowledging her. The man scratched the back of his head with an uncomfortable expression.
“As you can see, we shall need to procure an additional supply wagon.”
At the knight’s weary response, Barcas’s pale blue eyes turned toward the servants struggling to force the mountain of luggage into the carriage. Talia could see irritation spreading across his expressionless face.
At last, his gaze fell upon her.
“This procession will pass through six major cities. Necessary provisions can be obtained along the way, so please reduce any superfluous baggage.”
She lifted her chin sharply, as if to prove a point.
“I refuse. I know exactly what I’ll need.”
“In any case, it’s hardly a matter of clothing or jewelry.”
He spoke in a measured, austere tone.
“The Northwestern Region boasts many cities with thriving commerce. You’ll have ample opportunity to purchase whatever your heart desires once we arrive at the Castle, so I suggest you refrain from exhausting the servants before we’ve even departed.”
Talia let out a derisive laugh.
“Don’t be absurd. You’re trying to make me look like a dissolute princess indulging in luxuries during a pilgrimage, so they’ll compare me to Aila, aren’t you? Did you really think I’d fall for that?”
“Since when have you concerned yourself with your reputation….”
His lips twisted into a faint, incredulous smirk.
“Besides, no one would ever place you and the First Princess in the same breath. So spare yourself the unnecessary worry.”
Those were words I never wanted to hear from his mouth.
Talia’s face flushed with rage as she raised her hand to strike. But Barcas was not the sort to simply accept such a blow. He swiftly seized her wrist, then gestured to the servants with a sharp tilt of his chin.
“Leave only what’s essential. Remove the rest. We depart in an hour—make haste.”
“How dare you!”
Talia thrashed against his grip with all her strength, her voice shrill with fury. Yet the man remained unmoved.
Her venom rising to a crescendo, Talia lashed out at his shin with a vicious kick.
“What gives you the right to order my belongings removed? Do you think you’ve already become something grand? You’re not even a Duke yet! You’re nothing but an Imperial Guard knight—a mere knight! How dare you presume to speak thus to the Empire’s princess!”
“Why aren’t you hurrying?”
He ignored Talia’s tantrum entirely, fixing the servants with a glacial stare. At once, they scrambled nervously to unload the luggage from the carriage.
There could be no clearer demonstration that Barcas’s orders—as the future Duke of the Eastern Territories and Commander of the Imperial Guard—carried far greater weight than the commands of a princess in name only.
Her eyes blazing with fury, Talia lost all restraint and lunged at one of the handmaidens.
“Take your hands off my belongings at once! If even one of my things goes missing, I’ll have you all hanged!”
Her threat went unfinished. Barcas hoisted her effortlessly with one arm and thrust her into the carriage as though disposing of troublesome baggage.
Forced onto the carriage seat, Talia’s face burned crimson with rage.
Barcas was a man whose very marrow was saturated with loyalty to the Imperial Family. He would never lay hands upon Aila in such a manner.
The reason he could treat me so carelessly was because he did not regard me as true royalty.
The injustice of it burned so fiercely that my eyes stung with tears. The way this man maintained such impeccable courtesy toward my half-sister while showing me nothing but contempt was unbearable.

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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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